Better news on the book front. The printed versions now look like they may go ahead.

Bad news – the football season is nearing the end. Not a vintage season – fact quite a poor one – still the question is do we want to win tomorrow at home (come on your Spurs!) or next week at Arsenal? Yes, I am one of those lesser spotted Reds who are Mancunians – although I have been exiled from Manchester.

Average Sunday for the puzzling.

And now for what no one has been waiting for:-

COMM CHEQUE 2 – THE WRATH OF CHOC           
Captain’s Worklog Commrate 25%
It is 24 hours after the fiasco of the missing transcript of the Milky Way Run and this is not a happy ship.
Looneytenant Wondercock has been court-martialled and has been sentenced to banishment on Clai Mignor. This barren world is where the galaxy’s Damage Report Centre is situated. The current officer there, James T. Cobol-Fortran, is required by certain authorities because of his utter genius on his eight figure calculus machine. Wondercock will be taking over the Centre, consisting of 6 staff. This will be a new experience for her but very experienced Jiminy Howl will be there to assist along with the able Bunny Hutch and Annie, The Karate Miss. Not forgetting the enthusiastic Miss Takeful. Also, for a short while, until their banishments are up. Will be I. M. Notonpill and trainee Ivor Cavity.
As if this was not enough, the transfer to Starship Eagleeyes for Choc Ward has come through. It lowers the morale of the entire ship to know we will soon be losing our most outstanding technician.To try and remedy matters there was an emergency meeting of the great minds on the ship, which of course excluded C-in-C Nidanewboss, who was playing Star Wars on his computer console, and Kerrnot, who was still in conference with Bumkiss. The meeting consisted of Colonel Hodge-Podge, Captain Keating, Captain Kyddology and the ship’s staff officer, Terry Bullman. Even these keen minds could not come up with a solution to the problem so the Starfleet Commander, Uri Mitchellin-Man, was contacted.
“I am sorry, Captain Keating, gentlemen,” he said, sounding nothing of the kind, “but I have to back your ship’s commander. The act of Ward was extremely irresponsible. If he had reported the incident immediately we may have prevented E. Ando. We have got to keep on top of this problem. Now, if you will excuse me, I will be speaking through Uranus channels tonight and I need to rehearse my lines.”
“Well, that was a waste of time,” stated Keating.
Whereupon, in true Sedgwickise style, Hodge-Podge said, “I think we need a meeting to discuss the outcome of this meeting.”
There was a hearty concurrence because, to be honest, if there were not meetings to discuss meetings what was there to do until the next meeting?
“Choc’s away today,” said Sin Till When to “Windy” Miller.
“I know,” he replied. “It’s a shame. The old ship will never be the same. Anyway, I must be off. I have to head up a working party to check the working party in charge of the working party that is trying to clear up the atmosphere in the A.E.D.S. area.”
“Is it true that all the station’s members are going bald?”
“It is an alarming situation. The hairlines are receding further than the tide on Southport beach.”
When Miller had gone that left Bertram Bassett and Sin Till When to run the Command Centre. ABM’s Briggand and Kwrighton were in a meeting discussing the formation of an interstellar committee to devise a scheme to report on the meetings of the working party which was directly responsible for the working party in charge of working parties. The rest of the Centre crew were in a search party which were covering every corner of the ship after another report of the ship’s phantom being at large. Everyone that is except Choc Ward. He had been stripped of his duties pending his transfer to another ship. No one had seen him.
Choc was out for revenge. Firstly, he welded up the cabin of Commander-in-Chief Nidanewboss, after fixing the computer terminal so that the Star Wars game was never ending. Next, he had amended the code on the stationery computer to provide three lots of white forms instead of the customary green and yellow striped, pink with purple spots and turquoise and grey copies. Finally, he intercepted the transcript for that day’s Milky Way run and substituted the Mars Star Run.
Later that day all were congregated in the ship’s new transportation bay to say farewell to the guy who was really the Sedgwickise. Where would they be without him? They would just have to fight on without him. All too soon, he was striding through the sound activated sliding doors, carrying his farewell present of an inflatable moon buggy.
“I am sorry to be leaving you all,” he shouted to the throng, “but it is a far, far better thing I do than I have ever done before. The only consoling words I can give you are these. Although this ship has as much directional command as a headless chicken, you will finish up somewhere in the end, even if it is only on some alien’s Sunday dinner table. Good luck to you all.”
Then he was gone, the matter transporter transmitting his body particles to his new ship. The end of an era and a legend. The end of Brokeship Sedgwickise.