Shrimp Trek

The scanner opened, revealing an inky void screaming for its mummy. Framed in the centre was a massive tooth-shaped metallic four-poster-bed-like thing that might have been called a ship if it hadn't looked as if it was going to squelch revoltingly around the universe very soon.

"My God," said Kirk, who wasn't, and mutated into a herringbone-patterned sofa-cover. "It's the Shrimps."

"Incoming frequency, sir," said Uuuhur-urhub-uhru for no very good reason, except it was "true".

"Hail the Shrimps, Lieutenant," said Kirk, recording his version of various religious and pseudopolitical love squawks for posterity's posterior.

A picture appeared on the scanner. It was the Mona Lisa.

"That is a popsicle, Captain," said Mr Pock, studying his instruments.

"No, it's not – it's a painting by da Vinci. And please put those violins away, Mr Pock. And the harpsichord."