The adage 'too many captains can spoil the broth' was proven today on-board HMS The Spoof - the space-station which orbits the planet, daily reporting on earthly madness from above.
A storm was brewing whilst Captain Monkey Woods and his crew navigated the ship through a scrap dealers' paradise scattered through our once pristine universe.
A mutinous rebel nutter, attempting to move the goalposts, called Jaggedone attacked the bridge with a feather, tickling the hairy armpits of Captain Monkey Woods. He, in turn, died laughing at this feeble attempt to gain control and navigate the spaceship out of scrap-loaded waters. (Okay…not waters, but you get what I mean. And, he didn’t so much die as pass out while stifling a bottom burp.)
The rest of his crew, thwarted the attempt, including editor imperial and totalitarian oppressor, the evil Admiral Mark (who once fought a walrus barehanded), and the real Erskin Quint.
They managed to boot Jaggedone out of the ship and, now he's floating in an empty baked bean tin can (as David Bowie prophesied) farting across the universe, lost in a cerebral cortex bubble.
As for HMS The Spoof, space-scrap dealers have decided to purchase the kettle that brewed the storm in a very tiny tea cup and, it is now parked, not in Atlanta (it’s stormy enough there), but on a Yorkshire Moor where Emily Bronte (or was it Charlotte?) in perfect English wrote Kate Bush's fab ditty Spluttering Heights.
Peering from the inside of his rusting tin can, Jaggedone vows to return and avenge the death of the prophet David Bowie and get one over on HMS The Spoof courtesy of Major Tom – who else?!