Captain’s log, stardate 41153.7. We encountered some Klingons on our passage through Barry’s Corner, so myself and Mr Spock beamed ourselves down to their ship to talk to their leader. He was off his ever-loving breasts on some 100% pure Acamarian cocaine, so naturally I joined the party – as Captain it would have been incredibly rude to say no (and as William Shatner it would have been completely impossible). Spock refused, saying humankind’s obsession with narcotic intake was completely illogical, so we locked him in the ladie’s room and turned the lights off. Now I find myself alone on a strange planet, 13 months later with only one sock, a fancy dress toga and 72p in coppers to my name, and I find myself agreeing with Spock. This entire episode has been a disaster from the get-go.
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