I arrived home utterly exhausted ...
It was about 8 o’clock on a Monday morning and I had just got off the London to Glasgow sleeper train, which wouldn’t have tired me out so much had I actually used my bunk and not spent the whole journey in the bar talking. My bag thumped down on the bed, bounced off it and tumbled to the floor, spilling bits of leather, metal axes and resin cast weapons on the floor. I swore as I noticed a little bit of decoration fall off my disruptor pistol and roll away, but the thought of bending down for it was too much. I let it stay where it had landed and climbed on top of my quilt with the idea of lying down watching some early morning TV for 10 or 15 minutes to relax and get up to speed with the rest of the world. I clicked on the telly, put my head down, and fell into a deep, deep sleep.

I awoke about 3.30 in the afternoon, in a fairly befuddled state, and slowly sat upright. I opened my eyes, and found myself staring … at myself. I blinked. The mirror never used to be here. I blinked again. I was silent and yet my reflection was saying something. I closed my eyes and rubbed them. My reflection wasn’t even wearing the same clothes as me. My reflection was wearing a substantial amount of latex on his head. I touched my forehead, it was smooth, it was skin, and it was mine. I made a moaning noise. I thought I was still dreaming. I couldn’t deal with this. I had words under my head, the mirror never usually gave me a caption. What was happening? I blinked and took a deep breath. It was dawning on me. Slowly. I was on the TV. No matter how hard you prepare, nothing in my life will ever prepare you for waking up to find yourself face to face with yourself on BBC’s Newsround dressed as a Klingon.
( Cheeses of Nazareth Where's Captain Kirk? www.whereiskirk.com, Tue 16 Jun 2009, 22:31, Reply)