This thing on?
Right. Er… Stardate… What? 26.46… About half seven in the evening. Ship’s time.
Oh! Engineer’s log. Stardate 26.46. Engineer First Class Paul Brooks reporting.
Where do I start?
I could bloody murder Reg sometimes, you know.
So, the idiot accidentally wired up a microwave on deck 6C to the warp drive. I’ll spare you the details, but – basically – a couple of bags of popcorn and a mug of cocoa later, we were hurtling into a black hole.
Now, I don’t know why I keep an eye out for Reg. I really don’t. But while a bunch of us were trying to fix this warp drive and work out what was going on, I realised what had happened. I told Reg to go and take a look at his f—ed up microwave job.
Wait. You can beep out swear words, but not edit a botched intro? F—ing computers.
Anyway. Reg goes to take a look at the microwave. Manages, by some minor miracle, to fix it on his own without help from muggins here, who was busy trying to cover for him in the engine room.
So, crisis averted. No big deal.
The problems began after that.
Right, so the Captain – I have utmost respect for him. I do. But sometimes… Sometimes he’s a f—ing idiot. It’s that or he just outright abuses his position for a laugh. More than once he’s “gone native” for a bit on some backwater world and dropped off the radar. He always claims it’s because of amnesia or something – I think he does it for some extra leave on the sly.
He gets wind of Reg fixing this microwave… fiasco. This thing that he broke, and I told him to fix. And the Captain decides to give Reg some award named after himself for “ingenuity”. Can you believe that? I mean, I’m not miffed that Reg got it and I didn’t. I’m miffed because he got it for fixing a microwave he broke.
It’s rewarding idiocy, is what it is.
So we have this big ceremony. Reg got all geared up, suited and booted. Four hours. It lasted four hours. Putting a medal over Reg’s head – 30 seconds. Three hours, 59 minutes and 30 seconds – Captain’s monologue.
He even treated us to his party piece. A spoken word version of Bohemian Rhapsody. I mean, that was bad in itself, but he kept yelling for everyone to join in. The problem was nobody could match the timings of his… uh… dramatic? – I think that’s diplomatic enough – delivery. Reg joined him on the mic, of course. Somehow the worst bit was when it got to that big guitar riff and they both started headbanging in front of everyone and joining in with the most painfully flat set of “duh duh duh-duhduhduh-duh”s you ever heard. Loud, point blank into the microphone. It was horrible. We were all sat there totally still.
Cathy from Accounts asked why I was repeatedly mashing my forehead into one of the girders in the corridor after that. All I could do was mumble “I’m fine” directly into the metal.
This all happened earlier today, by the way. No clean up operation, no investigation into why we nearly flew into a black hole. No, it was crisis – awards ceremony – insanity. I’ve only just got back in. Left them to it.
I’d have strangled one or the other of them with the ribbon from that sodding medal if I thought it would hold. I think the Captain made it himself. At least that explains what he does all day. He probably ordered the award ceremony out of boredom.
Whatever. Log ends.
Oh, for f—s sake.
Engineer’s log. Additional.
It’s quarter to three in the morning. Reg and the Captain, p—ed as farts, are belting Bohemian Rhapsody out over the tannoy system and pretending to be radio DJs.
I’m quitting. The next planet we get to, I’m f—ing quitting.