Captains Blog

2007-09-03T15:33:00.000+01:00

Cant talk. Long.

Command crew; All dead.

Deep Space Nine. Falling through. Atmosphere of Bajor.

Hideous replicator malfunction.

Life. slipping away.

Oh my...

2007-08-20T10:58:00.001+01:00

According to Starfleet, my handling of the new Kobayashi Maru scenario 'further blurred the line between madness and genius'.

I don't really know what that means.

Anyway, not long after I finished my Deep Pan Double Tribble Surprise (With Extra Hair), A Holo-Admiral from Starfleet command called me on a an ultra secure emergency frequency and requested that I power down my phasers immediately and return to Deep Space Nine.

I said that the Holo-Sisqo had gone mad and that I really ought to destroy the station before an intergalactic incident occured. Holo-Admiral sounded incredibly distressed and after a long silence he told me I had passed the test. I asked him whether my thinking could be perceived as being highly original. After another long pause he agreed that it could be and that I would get a certificate with my name on it and some vouchers - which they don't usually provide.

I shouted loudly and did a forward roll/karate chop to celebrate.

Sadly, I managed to rip my shirt on the rough edge of a Klingon gantry.

Apparently, there was some kind of fault with the Holo-Deck so the Holo-Admiral said that I had to 'end the simulation manually'. This meant docking with DS9 and going directly back to my cell because ending the simulation any other way would 'interfere with my brain pulses and alpha thought pattern tidal waves'.

I think that's what he said anyway.

Admirals are paid to know a lot of useless jargon like this so I thought best not to argue and just head back to my cell.

There was a burger waiting for me - another gift for my strategic brilliance. It tasted funny, but I was hungry. I fell asleep shortly after that. I was pretty tired from all my original thinking.

When I woke up, the command crew were present and seemed quite relieved.

They were probably worried that I had been hurt.

2007-08-08T11:32:00.000+01:00

The Kobayashi Maru Scenario went rather well.

Sisqo put me in the Holodeck thing, which is just a big room with grids on the wall. At first I thought the game had changed and I just had to find my way out, so I started punching the walls to find gaps. This proved to be a poor tactic when the simulation started and I accidentally punched out my 1st officer as she appeared in front of me.

She fell onto one of the control consoles and hit the 'photon torpedo spread' button, destroying the Kobayashi Maru - the ship we were meant to be protecting.

I received a hail from one of the Klingon Battlecruisers asking what was going on. I had a flash of inspiration and said that I was planning to defect and turn over my ship, and that my first officer was a romantic gift to the Klingon High Council.

Suddenly, the funny grids reappeared and Sisqo walked in through a door. He said that my action 'was the grossest act of misconduct ever witnessed in the scenario' and that 'even if I was the real Berk, I would go to the gulag of Rura Penthe for my breathtaking insubordination'.

Well, there's no fooling Captain Berk.

I punched out the Holo-Sisqo and made for the Klingon Warbird, curious about this new twist on the original Kobayashi Maru scenario.

Along the way, I managed to acquire a phaser by punching out a hologram of that Bajoran Command Officer whose name escapes me, and after I had stunned three or four of those menial guard types (the ones who used to get saddled with the different coloured uniforms on my away missions) I made it to the Warbird and got myself some blood wine from the replicator.

I fired up the engines and managed to melt myself free from the belly of Deep Space Nine.

My guess was that - in this new scenario - Sisqo had gone mad and was using the old test to demoralise young cadets into thinking they were unworthy of Starfleet. This was a new test; a test of questioning authority, and when it should and should not be done. I replicated another blood wine and a tribble pizza, then locked the photon torpedos onto the station and requested they surrender.

I won't repeat the language Holo-Sisqo used in response.

2-0 to me!

2007-08-01T12:09:00.000+01:00

Sisqo said he will release me as long as I stop stealing his food.

Starfleet told him to test whether or not I am a clown (obviously I am not) by having me sit the Kobayashi Maru scenario - a funny game where you have to fly into a nasty place and get into a big fight. I would have thought that getting me to ride a miniature bicycle through a loop-the-loop would have been a better test, but no-one seems to think that is a good idea, especially Sisqo, who becomes more and more convinced that I am a clown every day.

I still remember when I sat The Kobayashi Maru scenario as a cadet.

During the load up screen I tried pressing the following buttons; Left, Right, Up, Down, ABC, ABC because it made multi-coloured alien females appear in an old video game I read about in a 20th Century 'magazine'.

It didn't work, but after about 3 hours of play the simulation was stopped because the supervising officer claimed I was 'cheating' - whatever that means. I explained that he was just jealous because a cadet was skillfull enough to destroy 300 Klingon Warbirds without sustaining anymore than a 1% loss in shield strength. He also disapproved of my conduct during the battle, saying that 'it's not gentlemanly to rip off one's shirt, tie it around one's head and forward roll/karate chop the video screen during battle'. I said that such behaviour was an important part of my winning strategy. Later, they found out about my attempt to make ladies appear onscreen.

They gave me a commendation for original thinking - even though it didn't work.

Starfleet - never the smartest organisation in the galaxy.

Anyway, no-one knows how I really did it - blood wine and lots of forward rolls - so it looks like I'll get to relive the whole experience again in something called a 'holodeck'.

2-0 to Berk?

We'll see. But probably 'yes'.

2007-07-30T12:32:00.000+01:00

I am still in the holding cell.

Apparently, Starfleet command believe that I am a clone.

Sisqo has been questioning me to see if it's true. I told him that just because a Captain can juggle, it doesn't mean he paints his face and wears baggy trousers. He said that I misunderstood him; a clone is an exact copy of somebody. I said that sounded quite dull, and that small children were unlikely to be enterained by two people who just look the same - you need a car that falls apart when you beep the horn, and balloons.

He went a funny colour and threw his dinner against the wall.

After he left, I reached through the bars and scooped up the remains of his meal.

Commander Sisqo - hungry
Captain Berk - not hungry

1-0 to me!

2007-07-19T12:18:00.000+01:00

I am onboard a Starfleet base called 'Deep Space Nine' - which sounds like a rude Ferengi film I heard about (but didn't see).

When I mentioned this similarity during a discussion with the crew of The Nine about my docking procedure, it didn't go down too well, so I abandoned any further attempts to lighten the mood.

After all the shouting died down and everyone put away their phasers, I was told that I was now on a space station near Bajor.

I have only been to this sector once before and I remember little about it- ending up here after a game of Transporter Roulette; a drinking game Khan invented. I think we had to leave quickly because Khan thought it would be funny if we taped toast racks to our noses and threw hourglasses at the locals. It turned out that wasn't particularly funny, judging by the fanatical mob that tried to lynch us. Damn that blood wine.

Anyway, a rubber faced man with bad hair asked me to give my name rank and serial number but I refused - just in case.

You never know what's lurking in the memory banks.

After a long stand off, a funny looking bald man emerged from his hiding place and told me his name; Sisqo. I asked him whether he was descended from the famous 20th century musical artist of the same name.

There was more shouting and a brief firefight (which I lost - because my phaser ran out of batteries), then Sisqo had me escorted to the holding cells whilst he 'tried to figure out how he was going to remove a Klingon warbird from the belly of his station'.

I think it looks quite good - like a young tribble suckling it's mother.

2007-07-18T09:27:00.000+01:00

Ah, it's working. Good.

It's now an incalculable time since I was last able to complete an entry; I have no watch, and I'm not quite what those point things mean in the stardate.

Anyway, the computer on this Klingon Warbird is rubbish when compared to Stafleet's finest.

It's running something called 'Super Mario Brothers' instead of the Klingon standard 'Ms Pacman', which is extremely irritating. It means that I couldn't spend these last few months bettering my high score. On a less inconvenient note, it also means I have been unable to maintain this private log, as the computer says 'no information can escape a black hole'.

Khan must have rewired it.

Since my last entry, I've been quite busy.

On my way to meet The Remans to introduce myself for some freelance mercenary work, I fell asleep on the control desk and accidentally spilled whisky on the console, causing the computer to change course - inadvertantly guiding the warbird into a black hole. The computer refused to provide me with an A-Z of black holes, claiming something about 'their dimensions being infinite' and 'the event horizon representing the point of no return'. Usually, pounding on the console and screaming loudly sorts out these problems - an officer usually assists, or the admiralty get involved.

Not on this hunk of junk.

Luckily, the Black Hole spat the ship out somewhere, which the computer said was 'technically impossible'. I responded by pointing out that it had actually happened, so it was not technically impossible, therefore making the phrase 'technically impossible' an oxymoron - which is defined as a phrase uttered by a moron that is just a waste of oxygen.

I won't repeat what the computer said in response.

The computer was annoying me, so I took control manually. The scanners indicated there was a Starbase nearby and I figured it would probably sober me up to try and maintain a course to dock with it. There isn't much you can crash into in space, so it's a pretty good hangover cure. Just don't try it on your way out of a starbase. That can get you in all sorts of trouble.

Eventually, I arrived and asked the computer to open a hailing frequency (and get me another bottle of whisky).

Before it could comply, a message came over the comm-link:

"This is Deep Space Nine. Please approach the docking bay in the usual manner, rather than in reverse as you appear to be doing"

Deep Space Nine?

2007-01-31T11:57:00.000Z

It feels pretty good to be Captain of a ship again. But more on that later.

My absence is due to that rotten space weasel - Khan.

I guess I should have had my guard up when he agreed to let me blow up the Travel Lodge that had been serving as my hide-out. Right after the torpedo's ploughed into that god-awful lobby and blew the place to kingdom come, he stunned me with his phaser as I was dancing around with glee. When I woke up in a holding cell, my mobile phone was gone. The footage of his micro-length - my only bargaining chip in this seemingly endless game of intergalactic man-poker that we appear bound to play out - was gone.

Gah!

But I was not to be beaten. 2 months of carousing the female jail attendant eventually paid off. One day, clearly caught in the throes of infatuated awe for me, she tripped over as she was backing away from my cell, banging her head on the floor. Thankfully, it was an old ship, so bars were used in the absence of forcefield technology, so I was able to reach between them and drag her towards me. I picked her up, pressed her finger on the print-id door lock, and set myself free. Why they put these door release mechanisms right next to the cell, I will never know. Anyway, After a quick frisk of her tight, young body, I found that she had no weapons of any kind. I frisked her again, just to be sure, then again, just to be more sure. Then, I stole her uniform so that I could blend in with the crew, and attempted my escape.

I made my way to the bridge and burst in as subtly as I could. My benefactor probably fulfilled a caring role of some kind, so tried I to stand around looking concerned. This didn't seem to work, as the crew just looked at me open-mouthed. At that moment, Khan walked in. I shouted his name very loudly to startle him. It worked, so I incapacitated him with a forward-roll/karate-chop combination, which I was quite proud of, considering the restrictive nature of the ill-fitting uniform and the heeled shoes. I got his phaser and, crucially, the mobile phone, which he was still carrying around for some reason. He even had the footage I had taken as a screensaver.

"Surprise, Mon Capitan!", I yelled triumphantly as he looked at me in shocked silence. "No federation bounty for you!"

"Transporter Room, this is the Captain. We are going on an away mission that you need not know the details of. Everyone on the bridge except for the attractive female officer that occasionally frequents the prison quarters are to be transported to the nearest class M planet."

There was a deathly hush as the crew realised the fiendishness of my plan.

"Berk, you fool," said Khan. "That's a primitive Earth communication device you have to your ear, not a Starfleet Communicator. Even if it were, you are aboard a Klingon Warbird, you imbecile!"

I shot Khan in the face, knocking him out cold.

The best time to strike an opponent is when they think you have been stupid. It catches them off guard, so I was able to phaser-blast the remaining crew members with relative ease before they could get to their weapons. All those hours I racked up on 'Duck Hunt' on the NES hadn't been 'a waste of time' like my instructor at the academy said after all. If only he could have seen me - dressed in womens clothing with a Klingon Warbird entirely at my command. I think he would have been grudgingly proud.

After taking out the rest of the crew with some well placed seduction/phaser blast combinations, I dragged them all to the transporter room and piled them up on those funny little circles that make you disappear. This took hours, and I was pretty much exhausted afterwards. This made me angry, so when I beamed them down to the nearest planet, which turned out to be Alpha Ceti VII (much nastier than V and VI), I made sure they would all appear with funny moustaches, and become the laughing stock of whatever foul species awaited them there.

Then I had a long sleep in a torpedo tube.

I might go and get changed in a bit.

2006-11-08T13:06:00.000Z

Hello? Is this thing on?

I am in a 'Ferengi Internet Tavern.'

It would seem that I don't need Starfleet Comms to post my logs as previously thought. It seems that computers exist outside the Federation. That hacking device Starbuck gave me seems to be working a treat.

I bumped into him again at wArP nightclub a few weeks ago. I was disguised as a multicoloured alien female to evade capture (not for my own pleasure) and he tried to chat me up on the dancefloor. I gave him a hipfull of cold steel and told him he would get a mouthfull of hot lead if he didn't help me out. He agreed, but only on the condition that I perform an act that will never be spoken of again.

Anyway, a month ago I was forced to flee the Travel Lodge in Barnstaple when an unwanted visitor showed up.

Someone had given away my position. It was probably one of the staff. They didn't like me because I complained about the lack of Blood Wine with my breakfast, the absence of a decent tanning booth, and the lack of any Phaser charging sockets. It was either that, or my refusal to give them my 'credit card', whatever that is. I told them if they wanted credit, they should go to the academy and beat the Kobayashi Maru scenario. Then I would write and sign a card for them personally. They just looked at me blankly and said they would call 'The Police.'

I explained that I was pretty sure that they had disbanded, but they could go ahead and try.

Not long after that, I got a call from reception telling me that a representative from the Gas Fire conference I was attending had arrived in the Foyer. Confused, as I do not know what a 'Gas Fire' is, I headed for the front desk via the stairs. I daren't use the lift in case any klingons might be hiding inside.

As I forward-rolled into the Foyer, I saw the so-called 'representative' and realised that I had been rumbled. Either that, or the man sat nonchalantly before me in the lounge area had changed his career somewhat. I figured I had better get the first word in.

"Khan. Long time no see."

He carried on reading Hello! magazine, seemingly unaware of my presence. Judging by his lack of a business suit, and the presence of those weird brown clothes he always wears, I rightly deduced that he had lied to reception. I don't know much about conference representatives on Earth, but I find it unlikely that they dress in this fashion. I made a note to highlight this for the reception staff to avoid any future confusion. After an awkward wait, I realised he had his headphones in, so I spoke again.

"KHAAAAAAAAAAANNNN!!!!"

He leapt out of his seat and drew his phaser. I drew mine, but I appeared to have grabbed a Braun Multishave by mistake. Khan sneered at me, giving me just enough time to forward roll under his phaser blast and karate chop his belt. His trousers fell down, revealing his Forward Thruster to the unfortunate civilians checking in. He froze on the spot, totally surprised by my equivalent of the Picard manouvre. Khan doesn't usually 'go commando.' Now I know why.

I guess some things don't need to be genetically modified to improve a species.

Inspiration hit me, so I whipped out an Earth communication device called a 'mobile phone' which I had stolen from a small child. I videod Khan's shamefull appendage and the resultant guffaws of the assembled crowd.

"Surrender, Khan. Or this goes out on all sub-space channels."

He was reluctant at first, but he agreed when I threatened to expose his miniscule genitalia to the whole Quadrant. He pulled his pants up and surrendered, confessing that my repeated winning at our ongoing competitions had finally pushed him to the edge. When Starfleet had offered a reward to track me down and bring me in for breaking out of prison after my drunken shuttlecraft pilot training accident, he jumped at the chance. His thirst for vengeance had already lead to the mistaken destruction of Travel Lodge's in Sidmouth, Linton and Leighton Buzzard. I think that's somewhere on Rijel 4.

Anyway, I demanded that he ferry me through hostile space to the safety of the Ferengi homeworld, where I can get some Latinum owed to me, find myself a spaceship and start contracting for the Remans.

Again he was reluctant, but it didn't take too many shamefull replays to twist his arm.

He even let me blow up the Travel Lodge from orbit.

2006-06-02T11:41:00.000+01:00

This will be my last entry.

Starfleet have fired me, following allegations about some regulations I may have breached.

Something to do with 'immoral interference with a inferior species.' Such frivolities never bothered them when I was mopping up their bad decisions in the Delta quadrant. They happily turned a blind eye so long as their foul little secrets were never outed. But now there's a new boss in town who's cleaning up Starfleets image, so guess who his minions are holding accountable for all their colossal muck ups. Yours truly of course.

Hypocrites. Every last one of them.

And they're making me the escape goat.

Except there's no escape, because there can be no appeal against the verdict. I was held in contempt of court, whatever that means. I was told that I will never Captain another vessel again. I even have to be supervised with a rubber duck in the bath. And not by a pleasant multicoloured alien female, I might add.

Anyhow, when the man in the funny hat told me I was guilty on all charges, and that my utter disregard for all that is morally decent within the starfleet code rendered me unsafe to Captain even a netball team, I tore off my shirt, forward rolled across the courtroom and dropped one of my extra special 'photon torpedos' on the courtroom floor.

As the missile steamed majestically on the glistening wood surface and the open-mouthed press pack showered me with flashbulbs, I stared the wizened old coot directly in the eye and smiled.

"How about that for a dishonourable discharge?" I said.

So, from the comfort of the luxury retirement apartment that I blackmailed my superiors into giving me, I leave you with this thought:

Being a Captain is not about wearing a badge or a uniform. It's about taking charge and doing whatever the hell you like.

Make it so.

2006-05-23T12:16:00.000+01:00

I wedgied Spock whilst he was looking into that periscope/science thingy on his desk a week ago.

He locked me in the brig, hence my absence.

I'm thinking about reporting him, but unfortunately he's too good at his job for me to do without. I spent my time in the cells writing an idea for a starfleet stage play.

It's about a male Romulan who falls in love with a female Starfleet cadet. Their love is pure and strong, but their respective organisations refuse to acknowledge their union. They plan to fake their own deaths but it all goes wrong. A staged warpcore explosion turns into an actual warp core explosion and they die.

It's called: Romulan and Juliet.

2006-05-12T14:27:00.000+01:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eBXal1GAA4A

2006-05-08T14:21:00.000+01:00

After the best part of a month away, I finally made it back on board the ship.

I was the only survivor.

When the storm first hit, there was a general sense of camaradarie as we all huddled together and played campfire games to keep our spirits up. However, the mood turned sour after a few days.

The storm blew itself out, but the instruments said that we could not transport due to excessive irons in the atmosphere.

I suggested to the crew that maybe we could reduce the amount of irons by fashioning a board out of some dead trees, then using my torn shirt as bait. That way, there would be less irons in the sky to crease up our signals if they were all busy ironing my shirt.

They just looked at me.

I wished some of my senior officers were present to assist in explaining this radical idea to these naive young cadets. The concept was too much for their fragile young minds, so they just went back to playing with their tricorders.

2 days passed.

By now, all the batteries in the equipment were dead so we could no longer monitor the number of irons in the air. Even my Gameboy was no longer functioning. That high score on Tetris shall forever elude me.

3 weeks passed.

There was barely enough food and water to keep us alive. Eventually all the expendable crew members perished because the Starfleet Handbook indicates that all food supplies must be given to the senior officers of any away team.

Well, it does now.

There was some protest at the time as the handbook we had on the planet was old and hard to read. Some people claimed that this wording wasn't there, some people claimed I was hoarding and some were hallucinating etc.

Anyway, that's beside the point.

Once they had all passed on -some peacefully, some not so - I arranged the uneaten bodies into a rudimentary SOS sign. An immeasurable time passed before I fainted, tired from all the jumping and waving.

I woke in sick bay to find Spock red faced and gushing apologies.

Sulu had apparently struck a deal to make a lucrative TV show with a Ferengi whilst drunk. The premise was this; An away team would be stranded on a planet, then as we tore each other apart in the name of survival, we would be watched in record numbers by millions of Ferengi who would bet increasing amounts on the eventual survivor. The Ferengi had offered Sulu a 30% cut if he would participate in the ruse.

Spock told me that Sulu had been fiddling the sensor logs to hide our whereabouts. He had also switched the Energizers in our equipment for supermarket own brand batteries, which further crippled our already heavily disabled chances of escape.

I ordered him to get me Sulu

When he arrived I ordered Sulu to demand a higher cut of the profits from his contact, otherwise I would blast the Ferengi homeworld to smithereens and blame the whole affair on him.
Spock's mouth hung open and he jabbered something about 'a massive breach of conduct'. I told him that he could object to my orders if he fancied being courtmartialled for losing his Captain for three weeks.

I also asked for some batteries for my Gameboy.

2006-04-07T16:21:00.000+01:00

The crew and I were stranded on an away mission the other day. I forgot to pack our emergency transport beacons, so whilst we were waiting for a window in the weather, they spent a few hours punning Star Wars references into popular 20th Century songs. It was most entertaining. Here are some of their pearls of wisdom:

Show me the VADER amarillo
JABBA's delight
BOTHAN a feeling
YODA one that I want
Taking care of BOSS NASS - Bachman Turner Hyperdrive
ATAT's the way (I like it)
I would do ANAKIN for love (but I won't do that)
RED LEADER of the pack
WINDU beneath my wings
The Frog CORUSCANT
CALRISSIAN walkways
LANDO hope and Glory
CAROBONITE - By Desmond Dekker
Fog on the PALPATINE
Stuck on NABOO
LEIA lady, LEIA
Sir DOOKU

Got any more?

2006-03-28T12:17:00.000+01:00

I was made to look a fool today.

We were on a diplomatic mission to Faghita 7. The local dignitaries had laid on a spread of roast fencepost and deep fried skillets, which is a local delicacy apparently. We all sat round chewing carefully so as not to splinter our pallates.

Bones suggested that I offer a tour of the ship to our hosts. They all looked on as I announced my intentions.

"If you would all do me the honour, I would like to give you a tour of my ship. We have a fine crew and some fantastic cupboards you can snack on, should you get hungry".

There was a general murmur of agreement.

Excellent, I thought. A chance to show off that new starfleet badge communicator I obtained in a game of chance. I puffed up my chest and tapped it firmly.

"Scotty. Beam us up"

Nothing.

"Scotty! Put down the bottle and beam us up!!"

Still nothing. I tapped my chest again.

"Scotty!!!"

By now, all the dignitaries were looking at me aghast. The rest of the away team were laughing uncontrollably. I looked down at my chest.

Someone had swapped my communicator for a doorknob.

I looked down the table to see one of the Aliens happily covering it in ketchup and sticking it in a wooden bun.

Later on, I questioned an evasive Scotty about it, as the only way the swap could have taken place without me knowing about it would have been when I tore my shirt wrestling with him earlier in the day.

My interrogation was fruitless.

On an unrelated matter, I wonder why Spock refused this away mission.

It's the first time he's ever done that.

2006-03-20T17:05:00.000Z

One of the Admirals came on board for an inspection today.

I was quite upset. Nobody told me.

After yelling at Spock for a bit, I composed myself and headed for the transporter room. I hoped the Admiral wouldn't notice the large white stain on my torn uniform and that he would forget the rather embarrassing 5 minute wait I had forced him to endure.

Admiral N. Surance introduced himself gruffly and looked at me like I was a dog biscuit.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been listening to this drunken idiot prattle on about the highlands for 5 minutes whilst you finished off some unspeakable act with a junior officer in your quarters, by the look of it."

I explained (rather well, i thought) that the stain wasn't what it looked like, and that I had a pet goat in my quarters. He looked even more horrified. I explained that it was the milk of the goat adorning my uniform and not the goats reproductive juices as he probably thought.

A horrible silence ensued

"Right. I've seen and heard enough already. It's testament to your reputation as the most woefully inadequate Captain in the fleet that I don't even need to leave the transporter room to know that you are completely incapable of performing your duties on this ship. You and this pathetic excuse for an officer are suspended. I'm turning over your captaincy to Science Officer Spock. What do you have to say for yourselves?"

There was more quiet unpleasantness.

Scotty asked if anyone fancied a belt of Scotch.

The Admiral turned to leave, without saying a word in passing i might add. As he did so, I had a flash of inspiration and shot him in the back with my phaser. He dropped quicker than a pop idol winner.

Scotty looked at me, boggle eyed.

"Ya cannae do that, Cap'n! You'll be courtmartialled."

I told him that if he valued his job, and the luxury of drinking whilst upon it, he would beam the Admiral down to the nearest class M planet with the necessary memory adjustments and tell the rest of the crew a story about the admirals crippling drink addiction and how we had to beam him off the ship for being unruly. We would be hailed as heroes by friends of mine in starfleets internal affairs division. They always wanted fresh meat. Especially from the top of the pile.

Scotty shook his head in disbelief and reached for the buttons.

Problem solved!

2006-03-09T10:35:00.000Z

Khan and I played Squash yesterday.

He's been trying to goad me into a game for the last few months.

We have this tradition of competing every time we meet. Normal people just go out and chat, but somehow we always get sucked into a game of some kind.

Last time it was go karting.

He was about to secure victory when one of his tyres mysteriously exploded just before the finish line. I managed to sneak past and win. He claimed that I phaser blasted his off side rear wheel, but I think he's just a sore loser.

The time before that we went paintballing.

He was about to secure victory for his team by shooting me in the chest. Unfortunately the gas canister on his gun ran out. He claimed that I had deliberately lent him a half-empty one after his mysteriously went missing. I told him that I could never be so treacherous. I shot him in the eyes, just to be sure of the win.

Anyway, I won again yesterday.

We set up a Squash court in one of the larger transporter rooms. He was just about to secure victory by winning the final point when his racquet mysteriously disappeared mid-swing. Needless to say I won the point and the game. Khan was furious, claiming that I had beamed the racquet out of his hands just so I could win. I pointed to the ground where the racquet was and told him he must have dropped it. He asked me why the racquet was a different colour.

Heh heh! Different colour, indeed.....

Crazy genetically modified man!

2006-03-02T12:15:00.002Z

Some fellow called Q visited me the other day.

I was on the bridge of the Enterprise listening to the greatest hits of MC hammer (a 20th Century rap legend) when a man appeared on the bridge out of nowhere.

I was quite annoyed because I was practising for an upcoming karaoke competition. I told him to go away.

He started banging on about how I was going to complete a number of tasks to prove that humankind was worthy of continued existence in the galaxy. If I failed he said he would destroy all humans in the universe. To prove it, he said he would destroy the Klingon Warbird we were currently sharing an orbit with unless I agreed to his demands, rendering the peace talks due in a few days redundant.

I munched thoughtfully on a bagel, considering my options.

I told him that i'd seen fridges packing more heat than him and he couldn't destroy a meat waffle.

He blew up the Warbird.

"What do you think of me now?!?" he bellowed, laughing wildly, clearly gleefull at the thought of yanking my strings.

"I think you're very helpfull" I said, giving Sulu the nod to flee at maximum speed. "You saved me a few photon torpedos there. Thanks!"

"But.. wha?...." he stammered.

"Well, I generally prefer war to peace" I mused, taking another bite out of my bagel. "There are so many more opportunities for me to do forward rolls and tear my shirt off. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to practice my Hammer dance."

He disappeared in a huff after that.

I guess the puppetmaster doesn't like being puppeteered like one of his puppets.

2006-02-24T12:11:00.000Z

Something went wrong with my night-time waste beam.

Usually all our waste is beamed out into space whilst we sleep, creating big dung rocks for future species to populate. We passed one by accident once, and it had developed its own atmosphere and a race of crazy space beetles.

Anyway, this morning I woke up with a strange desire to despatch an away team from my cargo tube.

I left my quarters in a desperate panic, hoping to reach the transporter room before an unauthorised departure occurred.

I arrived to find everyone else had the same problem. The smell was terrible. Some of the crew didn't have such unwavering control as me. That's what makes a Starship Captain great. Good bowel control.

Scotty was emptying people in batches of five. I asked him how it was going

"I cannae keep up the pace, Captain. I don't have the power!"

I told him that I would go to the bridge and divert power from the shields to help him if he removed the klingons from my starboard bow, so to speak.

He squeezed me in, leaving an unfortunate ensign to relieve herself in the corner whilst I took her place. She was pretty. Especially when she was angry.

After Scotty beamed out the invaders, I sidled off back to my quarters to think about that ensign and get some more sleep.

He looked quite upset when I saw him later.

He said the diversion of power from the shields hadn't made any difference at all. He had only just finished cleaning up after everyone and now he was on his way to the bridge to shout at Spock for not doing his job properly.

I sweated nervously for a moment, then inspiration hit me. I performed a vulcan neck pinch on him.

I figured I could intercept Spock and get him to take the blame. He's three times as strong as me, which meant he might just be able to quell one of Scotty's legendary whisky fuelled rages.

"What are ye doin?" Scotty said, looking at me in utter confusion as I felt his collar.

I ran away and hid in a torpedo tube.

2006-02-17T12:38:00.000Z

Yesterday I faced my oldest Nemesis.

The only man capable of mating with the same galactic panache as me.

I was on shore leave at the most infamous of Rijel14's universally renowned nightclubs; WaRp.

Anyone who's anyone goes there. I was lucky enough to get an invite. Lucky in the sense that I managed to steal Khans invite a few days ago without him spotting me. I had lunch on his battlecruiser and....well that's another story.

Anyway, I was at the bar waiting for a drink, listening to some Ferengi trader butchering 'Livin on a Prayer'. It wasn't long until a group of Klingons in the front row blasted him to oblivion, cheering raucously as his boots steamed conspicuously in the spotlight.

I took a long pull on my beer and glanced around the room.

The alien space talent on show was exceptional. Everywhere I looked there were orbital beauties of every colour and persuasion grinding their tubes against hungry wayfarers. I was just about to crack my knuckles and wade into the fray when my eyes fell upon a familiar sight. Shaking his enviably trim behind in the face of three knockout honeys, I saw the immaculately coiffeured bonce of my arch enemy.

Starbuck.

We had grown up like brothers, thrown together in the same backwater dustbowl, fighting over ladies, accolades and bears. We were like Tango & Cash, Thelma & Louise and Bonnie & Clyde all rolled into one.

But we hadn't spoken in years. Not since 'the incident'.

'Hey there Berk" he hollered.

"Like my Escorts? I bought them off one of the pirates in the Galactica's prison bays. They make great bait for snagging the real thing."

'No', I said. "I AM the bait, my friend. I got a worm so big I could fish for Jaws."

The girls laughed and I sneered to myself. Still got it.

'Don't pay any attention to them. They're programmed to do that. Check it out: Syphilis!!'

There was a chorus of sychophantic giggles from the ladies. Starbuck looked at me with disdain as I laughed along with them.

"What are you doing?"

"That WAS pretty funny. Syphillis. Heh heh. Look, just stay out of my way and let me get on with my sharking. I won't tread on your toes if you don't tread on mine, okay?"

I turned on my heel and sidled off into the crowd as Starbuck started telling the girls his joke about the Hitler and the Pope.

They laughed at the punchline a little too early. Always a dead give away on the cheaper model holographic escorts.

I learned that the hard way!

2006-02-13T12:55:00.000Z

I have spent the last few weeks stranded in space.

The ships computer developed a fault. Maybe it was something with the bacon sandwich I accidently dropped into it's central processor during a particularly long game of hide and seek that Khan and I got into last month.

Anyway, the computer wouldn't go to warp speed without spending an hour running self-diagnostics first. I was late for every appointment for a 2 day period.

It only got worse.

Instead of the high tech cast iron & bakelite control panels I was used to, I wandered onto the bridge one morning to find they had all been replaced with what appeared to be a lone computer. It was rubbish. When I turned it upside down, all the keys fell out.

I still can't find the '#'

I asked the computer what happened, but there was no response.

Spock said the computer had developed Obsessive Compulsive Disorder combined with Alzheimers v5.0. To alleviate the problem, he had dug out his Sinclair Spectrum ZX81 to bypass the main system and use what little memory we had left. 48k to be exact. I could run 'Wonderboy' but not the gravitational field simulation software that Spock needed for his science project.

I tried to console him with the high score i got, but it didn't seem to work. He evacuated the ship and suggested that I try and sort the problem out, as I had caused it.

This morning I got my highest ever score.

No one was around to see it though.

Shame.

2006-01-30T14:20:00.000Z

I have spent the last three weeks narrowly avoiding a courtmartial at Starfleet headquarters on Earth.

It all started when Spock stole my fake tan "for analysis". He said it smelt of Uranium. I had no idea that it was dangerous. Anyway, I beamed him down onto a passing asteroid for a laugh. Nobody told me that Asteroids don't have any atmosphere (kind of like Spocks birthday parties). Luckily, Scotty beamed him back up before he suffocated.

He reported me to Starfleet Command and I ended up in New Brussels on trial.

Unfortunately, on the last day of the case I got a little carried away. At first, the jury were putty in my hands as I strode about the courtroom emoting passionately on the introverted torture of my suntan addiction. But they started to look a little confused at the climax of my closing statement when I fell to my knees and sobbed as the powerful strains of 'Moonlight Sonata' materialised as if from nowhere. Even the judge looked peturbed at being unable to locate the source of the music.

Sensing that I was losing them, I forward rolled into a crouch and yelped like a puppy to express the pain and solitude of my crippling condition.

There was silence.

I had them!

But no..

Everybody was staring not at me, but at the floor. The tape recorder hidden inside my shirt had fallen to the ground and shattered, spilling its guts everywhere. Somehow, my top had mysteriously torn.

I got away with it though. I'm back on board and Spock has a restraining order so that he cannot go within 5 metres of me or my washbag. It makes away missions a bit of a logistical nightmare, but I don't care. He's not happy.

Ha ha!

It's amazing what the promise of an Romulan Erogenous Magnification Generator and incriminating CCTV will do to grease the impulse engines of power......

2006-01-04T12:09:00.000Z

Everyone else is on Christmas/New Years shore leave.

It's just me and the computer left, so I am a little bit bored.

We spent this morning playing hide and seek.

I went and hid first. Whilst the computer was counting to one hundred (at the rate of the average human child), I chose a hiding place. The torpedo tubes seemed like a good bet, so I hid in there. It was greasy but I didn't mind. The soiling of my garments and the lack of fellow officers gave me an excuse to strip off and run wildly to the supply deck for new clothes when I was eventually discovered. I had no doubt the computer would be unable to locate me for some time in such an unusual hidey hole.

I waited for a while and then I leapt from the tube screaming 'Victory!' at the top of my voice.

The computer said it had taken 0.000000001 seconds to find me, but when it had tried to contact me via comms over an hour ago, I did not respond.

I accused the computer of being a sore loser and a crybaby, as I had received no messages. It said 'sore loser' and 'crybaby' did not compute.

Tearing off my oily top, I ran off to the supply deck in my pants, whooping and hollering, the thrill of success coursing through my veins.

Later, the computer made me go back to the weapons room. I found my comm link on the floor by the torpedo tube.

I must have dropped it when I ripped my greasy top off.

2005-12-20T15:48:00.000Z

Today I had to attend a federation funded 'Negociating in the Workplace' seminar.

What a load of mindless space garbage.

The course blurb was something about treating your enemies like your colleagues to create a happier working envirnoment. The guy who was running it (Chad) was a jumped up, blue flame, quarterback punk.

He kept warbling on about 'self actualisation' and 'negociating with a can-do mentality'. Everyone else seemed to be buying into this tripe except me.

He asked me to participate in a roleplay with him.

He was to be a klingon leader and I was to be me.

"Okay lets begin" he said. "I'm not very happy about your violation of the neutral zone, and I would like you to apologise. I feel affronted by your disrespect for our mutual boundaries."

I responded by forward rolling towards him and landing a karate chop on his arm. Luckily, my shirt got torn in the attack, which added to the authenticity of the scenario. He fell to the ground, whining like a ferengi. I was pleased with my performance, so I got up and punched the air.

There was silence as Chad quietly sobbed on the floor.

I was mystified. I had quelled the attack, and no-one had been hurt except the enemy.
Later, Chad explained that my response was 'reactionary' instead of 'pro-active', whatever that means.

My frustration peaked during a group logic exercise.

We had to get a fox, a chicken and some grain across a river in a boat. Everyone else presented silly answers that revolved around ferrying them across. In my presentation, I highlighted that the boat may well be a klingon decoy filled with explosives. I drew complex diagrams to indicate how a tractor beam could be used to move the fox, the chicken and the grain over the river. This would free up crucial defensive time to retaliate against a klingon assault on the colony.

Chad was not impressed.

He said that whilst he appreciated my 'thinking outside the box', I was missing the point and I should be using 'only the resources to hand'. I told him that a small wooden boat and handfulls of grain were no defence against a klingon battlefleet.

He told me to sit down.

I threw a chair at him.

2005-12-19T16:33:00.000Z

Spock bought his sister on board today.

I didn't even know he had one.

She was hot, hot, hot.

Spock gave me the dirtiest look when I kissed her hand and offered her a tour of the ship. She readily accepted and eyed me like she was going to eat me for dinner. After I had showed her the usual suspects, I asked her if she would would like to see the inside of my quarters.

I stole a moment to myself and asked the ships computer to set my room to 'mating ambience.'

We got to my quarters and sure enough, Marvin Gayes 'lets get it on' was oozing out of my custom made speakers. (they're in the shape of my face.) We sat down on my officer class Sofa. I elected to use my subtlest tactics and my smoothest moves to seduce and carouse this classy alien lady.

"Would you like to mate?"

"I would."

"Excellent."

I found out that Vulcans only mate once every 7 years. I also found out that Vulcan ladies like having their ears pleasured by federation manhood, especially 'custom shop models'. Looks like my modifications were worthwhile after all. She said her last time was rubbish and she ended up with a baby. She had to give it up for adoption due to tragic circumstances; She didn't want it. Needless to say, I promised her no such mistakes would occur on my watch and our time together would be strictly recreational.

I spent another few days in sick bay.

She got quite positionally creative. I forgot that vulcans are 3 times as strong as humans due to the gravity on their planet. That's why they rarely mate outside of their own kind.

Spock is embarrased and is not talking to me now because rumours of my performance have spread throughout the ship.

Haa ha!

2005-12-14T14:47:00.000Z

Today I tried increasing the size of my manhood in the transporter.

I read in 'Self Diasgnostic' magazine that you could make subtle alterations to your transporter signature to increase or decrease(?) the size of your member.

I sneaked down to the transporter room on my lunch break and had a fiddle with the controls. It had been a while since I had used them myself, so I had to wing it.

I made a few adjustments, set the timer, and quickly hopped on the platform. Sure enough, after beaming to transporter room 2, my girth had encreased three fold, and my length had doubled.

I was extremely happy. However, just as I was checking to make sure everything was still in working order, Scotty walked in.

"What are ye doin' Captain?"

I quickly fumbled my tractor beam back into its housing.

"Uh, just checking everything is in working order. With the transporter, I mean. Nothing else. As you were."

"oh. erm.. Right Captain. I hope ye did nae encounter any problems."

"Far from it Scotty, far from it"

I caught him glance at my nether regions for a moment. Disbelief momentarily flickered across his face, but he quickly composed himself.

"Do ye feel alright Captain? You look a little pale?"

I was feeling quite faint. I had developed an enormous erection, mainly due to the embarrasment of the situation. This always happened, and tended to cause a viscious cycle which I rarely escaped from. The massive increase in size meant that a lot more blood was needed to maintain 'Red Alert', as it were.

"I errrr.... ahhh. ooooh"

I woke up in sick bay.

Again.

2005-12-07T11:00:00.000Z

My head hurts. I have a crease in my face that makes me look like Ernst Blofeld.

I went to a christmas party last night on Picards ship. It must have been fantastic, because I woke up this morning in a cell.

That's always the sign of a good party.

At first I thought I had been slashed, but it seems I acquired the marking from sleeping face down on the floor.

Some vaguelly familiar bearded hot shot came down to see me and outlined my 'unacceptable behaviour' from the previous evening.

His face was bright red.

He yelled something about my terrible singing and his indifference to my stage dive. He seemed to expect an apology or an admission of shame or something. I wearily told him that he should have read up on his starfleet history before inviting me. Some of my more public misdemeanors were well documented in the starfleet logs. God knows enough of them were published in 'Self Diagnostic' magazine.

His face turned purple.

He exploded with rage, yelling obscenities and pointing to the dishevelled figure slumped on the floor across the cell from me, her pretty uniform torn in all the right places.

A memory picked itself up from the dark corner of my mind, dropped it's bottle and danced wildly before my eyes.

It's all coming back to me now...

Fly boy over there and the tasty young morsel in my cell had been slow dancing to 10cc's 'I'm not in love'. I recall that she was quite wobbly, singing loudly and pointing to Beard Master in an overly emphatic manner. He looked rather awkward, and his face was red. Must be his favourite colour.

Anyway, to save him any more embarassment I asked the band to play something a little more upbeat, and I cut in on him. She seemed to like the insistant funk of 'Stayin Alive' and we got down to it big style.

Man, she moved like a Nebula class starship at maximum warp.

I remember that I had my hand on her perfect little buns and I was just about to reach round to stroke her Tribble, but then everything went black. I was nowhere near my limit so my away mission must have been cancelled without my say so by the hairy cornflake here, probably with a well placed phaser blast.

Number 1 my ass. He's more like a number 2.

2005-11-29T12:31:00.000Z

Today was perhaps the greatest day of my career.

I touched Uhuru's private area.

We went on an away mission, and she became distressed after an alien insulted her colouring. I attacked the alien with a forward roll/karate chop combination, then made a big speech about how we should all love each other.

Simply love each other.

Just love each other.

It was my most favourite speech ever.

When we beamed back to the ship, I accompanied Uhuru back to her quarters. She hugged me, and then we kissed.

Passionately.

I slipped my hand down to her cargo bay, but just before I got a chance to slide open the hot beef doors, someone buzzed me on my communicator.

It was Chekov, yelling something about a race of mysterious aliens attacking the ship.

I asked him if the matter could wait, but he said it was quite urgent. Irritated at the disturbance, I told him to raise shields and fire photon torpedos. He said that maybe we should do it the other way round otherwise we would blow up the ship. I said that was the idea. He said he meant OUR ship.

I was quite enraged by this point, and in no mood for grammatical errors. I was keen to get my beam up, so I told him to take whatever action necessary and turned off my communicator.

I tore off my shirt, ready to mate with my aroused female officer, but Uhuru fled the room in tears.

Cargo bay doors AND dead aliens.

GREAT DAY!!

2005-11-18T16:35:00.000Z

I think Uhuru is having an affair with Spock.

I keep spotting them making eyes at each other.

We were on the bridge the other day in the middle of some negociation or another. A peace treaty with the Klingons, or something. Anyway, whilst one of those pastie-browed neanderthals was wittering on about trade routes, I caught Uhuru checking out Spocks behind.

I don't know what he's got that I haven't. I know how to forward roll. And do Karate chops. And how to mate with aliens. Spock has hardly ever mated. Vulcans only do it once every 7 years.

They must be frigid or something.

Once the negociations had finished and we had destroyed the enemy ship, I saw spock blatantly oggling her mammory glands. She saw him do it, but instead of fixing him with a steely-eyed glare (like she does with me) she fluttered her eyelashes and stroked his arm. He merely raised an eyebrow and went back to looking into that scope he seems to love so much. I have no idea what it does.

Maybe it's some kind of visual uniform penetration device....

That would explain the permanent hard-on he seems to have.

2005-11-10T11:43:00.000Z

I had the weirdest dream last night.

I seemed to be in the future, and I was on board a later version of the Enterprise. I wandered around for a while to get my bearings, finding lots of advanced machinery and computers I could understand even less than the ones I am used to. Eventually I stumbled into a bar.

All the female officers were wearing strange uniforms. All the short dresses I am used to were gone.

The women were still largely in caring roles as you would expect, but some actually worked in engineering!

Anyway, I had a few drinks in this strange dream bar and started mumbling at my fellow drinkers, trying to get them a little bit fired up. It was only a dream, so I pretty much did whatever I liked for a laugh. I gesticulated wildly at the bar woman to fire up a 20th century invention called a Karaoke machine. She just looked at me sadly.

Although awkward about my behaviour, the crew tolerated my actions without question. After a while, some bearded show off came in and took me back to my quarters and told me to sleep it off. I asked him what he was looking at, and whether he wanted to take it outside. He made some excuse about the vacuum of space, and told me he was assuming command. I mumbled aggressively as he left and went to have a look in the mirror.

I was greeted by the sight of a balding old man!

I thought it must be a dream about the future, so in my drunken state, I tried replicating myself some hair in some kind of attempt to foresee the problem so that I could deal with it when I woke up. That’s the last thing I remember..

Anyway, It was a pretty vivid dream. I even woke up this morning with what felt like a hangover.

It’s still dark.

I’ll go for a shower in a minute.

2005-11-07T13:06:00.000Z

Today was a bit strange.

Uhuru had scheduled me in for a tour of the ship to speak to the crew prior to staff appraisals.

Before we started, I had to make an embarrassing trip to the barber, then have a routine transporter signature diagnostic. This involves a simple beam from one transporter room to another as a routine check.

Once it was done, I headed off to the engineering deck to met Uhuru

Whilst we were in the turbolift, I noticed that I had something dangling in my face.

I hadn’t noticed whatever it was until I left the transporter room. I presumed it must be a leftover dreadlock that the ships barber had failed to remove (don’t ask! It’s extremely embarrassing.)

I meet Uhuru in engineering, and she looked at me in utter shock. I thought best not to mention the embarrassing episode involving the hairstyle and press on regardless.

The curious thing is, that whenever I looked at Uhuru, my vision was no longer obscured by the dangling appendage. Also, my head would feel heavy and keep falling forward. At one point, she bent over to pick up a tricorder, and I could see her pants. Suddenly I felt faint. Later, when she was walking in front of me, and I was trying to avoid looking at her nether regions, I banged my head on a low archway. This had never happened before.

I must be getting taller.

Aside from this, Everybody I spoke to had a smile on their face, and they were all full of laughter. It makes me proud to think I inspire so much confidence in the crew, and that morale is so high.

I offered to take Uhuru for a drink, but she declined, looking like she had seen a ghost, staring at my forehead like I had a pasty on it. I apologised and said that I would get the offending item removed (I dared not tell her how I got it)

She said she had spoken to Scotty, and requested that I get my transporter signature check sorted out a second time. She dragged me up there hurriedly, and my requests to stop in a bathroom along the way were flatly refused.

The check went fine, and the rogue appendage disappeared afterwards. It must have been removed in the transport process.

When I got back to my quarters, I found a sticker on my back that said ‘Dickhead’

Curious.

2005-11-02T16:27:00.000Z

Today we were boarded by an invisible alien.

I was resting in my quarters when I was alerted by Mr Chekov. He requested my presence on the bridge immediately, as something was attacking Mr Sulu. Spock and the others were stood around looking horrified whilst Sulu was writhing round on the floor with his hands on his throat.

I tore my shirt off and went to dive towards his assailant, when suddenly Sulu stopped squirming.

“I think it’s gone into the turbolift!” he yelled.

I dived in after it and the doors shut behind me. I span around with my fists out so that I could hit the unseen foe before it got a chance to activate the controls, and head for the transporter bay. After 2 or 3 minutes swinging, I hit nothing. I banged on the lift doors, screaming for the ship to be put on red alert as the beast had escaped, probably hell bent on crippling the warp drive.

The doors swooshed open and I leapt out ready for action.

Everyone looked slightly uncomfortable. There was an awkward silence. Spock told me that they had successfully located the creatures life sign signature and beamed it out into space.

When I glanced around the bridge to check everyone was okay, I noticed Sulu had a strange smirk on his face. Then Bones passed something to him that I couldn’t quite see. He was probably shaken up from the encounter, and maybe laughter was his way of dealing with the trauma of an alien assault. Bones was probably passing him a cloth or something to mop his brow.

I congratulated the crew on their quick thinking and went back to my quarters to rest.

I’m sure I heard peels of laughter as the doors closed behind me.

Poor Sulu. It's best that he gets it out of his system.

I’ll check on him tomorrow.

2005-10-31T11:36:00.000Z

I was discharged from sick bay today, following my run in with the alien creature.

Bones insisted I stay overnight for observation, which I initially refused to do.

I relented when he told me that whilst I was unconscious, the creature successfully inserted a mating tentacle into what it mistakenly thought to be my birth canal. He said that I needed to be probed to make sure I had not been ‘contaminated’

When I asked him why he didn’t use a Tricorder, as oppose to the painful rectal probe, he mumbled something about alien residue causing inaccurate readings.

This was strange, as none of the other crew members readings were affected.

Today, I can barely walk.

I need to order a new green top from supplies.

Home and Away

2005-10-28T10:49:00.000+01:00

Yesterdays away mission was a disaster.

I chose my favourite green top, and when i arrived at the transporter room, everyone was sniggering behind their backs.

They have no respect for me.

When I took Bones to one side and asked him about it, he just told me he's a doctor and not a fashion designer.

Anyway, when we got to the planet surface, we had to fight a monster. I tried to impress everyone by doing a forward roll/karate chop combination to attack it. I ripped my shirt and the monster hit me with a tentacle. That's the last thing I remember. Next thing I know, I wake up in sick bay feeling really sore.

It turns out everyone else had to blast it with their phasers to stop it mating with me.

Scotty got to make out with the green alien lady we saved.

I feel like an idiot.

Uniform Displeasure

2005-10-27T16:51:00.000+01:00

I can't make up my mind on which top I should wear for todays away mission to Ryjel 7.

Everyone else is wearing red. Do i wear my favourite green shirt with the gold collar?

Or do I wear what everyone else is wearing to show a sense of unity? It's so hard being captain sometimes.

No one understands.

In space, no one can steal your cream

2005-10-27T16:07:00.000+01:00

I have started this blog as i can trust no-one on this ship. Whilst on Earth recently, I was advised of this blogging business, so I am using this as oppose to the official log, which is not safe from prying eyes at the the very highest echelons of power.

Today, Mr Sulu bought me gravy instead of coffee from the replicator. When I questioned him about it, he said the replicator must be faulty. It was fine when i checked it later. He must have run a level one diagnostic on it after I highlighted the fault.

I don't know why he was laughing about it with Scotty afterwards. He was evasive when questioned about it.