RE: SEMIANNUAL STAFF PERFORMANCE REVIEW - NOT ON TARGET

WHY is it that every time I turn my back for ONE MINUTE, something HAPPENS on this Battle Station!

I spend a few hours meditating in my meditation capsule and we run out of toilet paper.

I spend a day trying to sort out the toilet paper shortage, and then suddenly there's a diahorrea outbreak.

I tackle the outbreak and institute proceedings to determine which of our staff simply lack the mettle for serving the Empire, and the next thing I know, people start layering the floors AND WALLS with excrement, there is unmentionable material in the vents, pots of Gungan bonga-weed appear out of nowhere (how the KRIFF did they even get imported into this station, evidently there is a security breach somewhere: I intend to hold one of the Admirals personally responsible) and then the bloody water pipes start breaking left, right and centre -

The Force. The Force is making fun of me. AGAIN.

I do not find this funny! I am not amused! DAMN YOU, FORCE. And kark on your kriffing antics.

SO. So. So.

Went to Hoth. Lovely piste. Did some skiing. Fell off the last jump which pissed me off because I shouldn't have fallen off, and I WOULD NOT have fallen off, I am an expert with the skis and even IF I WERE NOT (which I AM), I could not have fallen off, because the Force is Strong Within Me, and I would have Force-flipped myself into a better landing position, or avoided that frozen-over block of fracking ICE covered with fracking SNOW entirely; were it not for a bloody urgent call from Tech Support, or someone, it escapes me now, but the POINT is: THE POINT IS - someone called me, and told me there was Brown Liquid coming out from my chambers.

MY chambers.

BROWN liquid.

What the kriff is BROWN LIQUID doing in my chambers!

It's like a karking freak show, this Battle Station. Like I can't afford to so much as karking blink or else next thing maybe someone WILL smuggle Ewoks aboard because they fracking think they're PETS, or that they're ALLOWED TO HAVE PETS ON BOARD THE SHIP and well they would be WRONG - there are NO PETS on the Death Star, we are committed soldiers, we are Agents of Doom And Destruction, and we will be RUTHLESS in our efficiency.

...

Ran into ion storm. Controls got fried. Came out of ion storm, ran into a couple of Rebel bandits, took those down fairly easily especially because they were, for reasons unknown, entirely besmirched with what appears to be encrustations of a biological nature (I really do NOT wish to know) and their pilots couldn't see. Too bad.

Returned to Death Star to find floors and walls (reasonably) clean.

Was met by a FULL SQUADRON of troopers behaving in a deplorable fashion.

HIP THRUSTS. In sync. IN FORMATION.

I even spotted one of the Red Guards engaging in that gyrating motion which reminds me of the time I was on honeym-

...

I demanded to speak to the Head of Procurement or Manpower, naturally. It appears that the said pots of Gungan bonga-weed had been chucked into the central incinerator instead of being disposed of by means of compaction and ejection. This. This is the reason why I am personally convinced that 94% of the beings on board this Station ought to have been smothered at birth. Have we not already had a previous 'accident' with the venting when some blasted MORON dumped a similar item into the incinerators? Once is an accident, but twice -?

I WILL GET TO THE BOTTOM OF THIS. THERE WILL BE PAIN.