Let me introduce you to the Biggles chronicles, crafted during a particularly dull spell at work. This requires an advanced degree in ERP package design and Star Trek to fully appreciate, and it helps if you know the bunch of alcoholics and reprobates laughingly called my colleagues.

Biggles learns computing

Chapter One

"Biggles" Butcher stared at his cockpit controls in frustration. He just could not get his Materials Management transactions to start. "Nobby" Poh Tack was not helping and Chor "Ginger" Ping and Butch "Butch" Espina just heckled from over his shoulder. Even his joystick wasn't giving him any satisfaction these days. Entering a requisition raised the flaps as it was supposed to but turning it into a purchase order was proving harder than an Immelman turn.

"I wish "Legless Bader" Wise was still around. He would have known what to do," sighed Biggles

Indeed he would have. It would have involved copious quantities of Black Russian aviation fuel, strafing runs at JJs and would not fix the problem at all. However, everyone would be too hung-over the next day to even remember that there was a problem. So that would be alright then.

Biggles sighed again. Group Leader Lawrence and WingCo Tom both gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Things just hadn't been the same since Legless Wise had bought it on his last mission to KL, grounded by his wife. Things certainly hadn't been the same. For a start, everyone was now sober on a Friday morning, as well as actually being at work.

633 Dragon Squadron sat down to breakfast. Some members of Phoenix Squadron were mixing with them, but the boys from Tiger Squadron were absent, still recovering from a night out on the town. “Control Tower” Bujung would be furious when he found out, especially about the "special" Karaoke service he had missed.

The Expat Wing had a well deserved reputation for hard drinking and hard living, but they could still configure, even when tanked up as much as their Sopwith Camels. In fact, Stephen "Legless" Wise couldn't configure at all without his own personal supply of Black Russian aviation fuel.

The Singapore Wing had a much healthier lifestyle, but they found other ways of making mischief. Their antics at the Pondok Laguna were the despair of WingCo Tom and Group Leader Lawrence.

Group Leader Lawrence sat in his favourite wicker chair, puffing contentedly at his pipe. The Astra mechanics were repairing the damage to the Kijiangs from last night's mission. One tailplane had been ripped to shreds by flying stones from the ack-ack at the roadworks on the way back to the hotel and plucky tail-gunner Kenneth had nearly bought it at the largest pothole, but prompt avoiding action by the pilot, Chalky Haris had brought the crew safely home.

It was always a worrying time when all 5 Kijangs were out on a mission, waiting for them to return. He had counted out the 5 but so far had only counted 4 back in. And the last, missing, Kijang was the most reliable. Shorty Thiru had never lost a kite yet and Nobby Poh Tack and Chor Ginger Ping should have been pretty safe in his hands. True, their mission to find some missing OSS Notes which had been shot down over Walldorf, was a tough one, but Group Leader Lawrence had confidence in Shorty.

Biggles reassured the rest of the flight crew. “Shorty has never landed in the drink even once, unlike some of our Aussie crews, who have hardly ever been out of it,” he cracked. Butch “Butch” Espina still wasn’t convinced but just then the low throbbing sound of a badly tuned Kijang could be heard in the distance. The throbbing turned to spluttering and the whole wing held their breath as the missing Kijang lurched out of the sky. Shorty Thiru caught it just in time and the Sopwith Kijang bumped heavily onto the grass-covered car-park.  

Shorty and his crew stepped out triumphantly clutching a sheaf of OSS Notes. Most of these are for 3.1, but we recovered one or two for 4.6B, including this one which explains why our payment requests aren’t working. WingCo let out a cheer. Payment requests had been the bane of his life, since his first attempt to configure them had been shot down by the famous Hans “Red Baron” Kost.

Biggles Butcher shouted from the back, “Have you got anything on Purchase Orders?” Shorty Thiru laughed and said, “You mean this hot patch here?” Joking and smacking each other on the back, everyone headed off to the bar for another few shots of well-earned aviation fuel.

Chapter Two

Captain Lawrence T "Biggles" Kirk strode onto the bridge of the USS Sopwith.

"Bring the Klingon battle cruiser up on the front screen, Ensign Sulu Ping."

"Aye, Aye, Captain."

"And open a hailing frequency, Lieutenant Mairadin Uhuru."

"Hailing frequency open, Captain"

"This is Captain Biggles Kirk. Your ship has been observed posting transactions in the QA environment without authorisation. You must withdraw to the Development quadrant immediately, or face the full sanction of the Federation management team. You will be forced to attend continuous team leaders meetings without tea-breaks."

"You are mistaken, Captain Biggles," came the snarled response from Klingon Commander Hans. "We have full authorisation from Security Officer Bujung, extending even into the Production sector."

"Don't believe him, Jim." Bones Butcher had only just come onto the bridge and was already busy casting aspersions. "If they have the access rights they claim, then it's a production system, Jim, but not as we know it."

"Security Officer to the bridge immediately," Captain Biggles instructed. "Spock, you'd better check the profile generator.

"I'll work with Kenneth Scotty Hee on this one, Captain," responded Tom Spock Karns. "There is definitely something illogical here."

"Cap'n, I've found the problem." Scotty Hee was now on the bridge. "It's the rendang crystals. After the last Warp Factor 9 pursuit, they couldnae take it no more, and when they collapsed they blew a hole in the profile generators shields."

"My god, even a child could have posted a recurring journal in the production quadrant. And someone's been reversing the depreciation runs."

"Oh, no, Jim," shouted Butcher Bones. "Look out! There's a Borg installing hot patches into all four quadrants without any testing. All systems are wide open"

"Ensign Ping."

"Yes Captain."

"Lock onto the Borg and fire photon torpedoes."

"Photon torpedoes away, Captain."

"Yes! We got him. But I think he managed to get hot package 3 into Sandbox and Development quadrants"

 "Spock Karns and Butcher Bones, we'd better beam down to the Sandbox IMG and see if we can fix it. Make sure you have your configuration phasers set to stun. Scotty, after you've beamed us down, you have the helm. Ensign Ping, keep the USS Sopwith in orbit around the Sandbox system and Lieutenant Margaret, you'd better alert the Federation management team." The orders came thick and fast from the Captain.

"OK, Scotty, beam us down. Try and put us near the MM purchase orders. They look in the worst mess. But whatever you do, keep us away from the Treasury Forex accounting. Nobody understood that even when it was working."

As they beamed down, Scotty Hee muttered to himself. "I still don't understand why they need a doctor to beam down and configure MM. He knows nothing about MM. Come to that he doesn't even know anything about medicine."

Chapter Three

In a distant SAP project far, far away, Hans Solo Kost guided the Millenium Kijang out of its parking bay and turned to Rama Chewbacca. “Where’s Princess Yean Lin gone now?”  (Kijang is an Indonesian car, like a Renault Espace but much cheaper)

"Wherever it is, she's taken the configuration droid R34.6B with her."

"I don't know why she bothered. The droid has never been the same since the upgrade."

"I told you, we should have had the hot patches fitted at the same time, even if testing them on C3PO blew out the transport and correction system."

Tom Skywalker sighed heavily. No droids and no Princess. It would be just their luck if a squadron of Imperial QA Stormtroopers showed up. As he turned to Rama Chewbacca, intending to let him share in the general gloom, the screens blared out a massive warning.

Only one thing in the universe was big enough to set those alarms off. Hans spilled his gin and tonic, the straw flying across the deck. There it was: the Emperor Eugene's Resource Star battle station blocking out half the sky.

"It's come to suck out all the best consultants from the project," shouted Tom. "quick everyone, downgrade your GCFs to Level 2 and deny all knowledge of the Treasury quadrant."

Just then a glimmering vision appeared and the cool, calm voice of Obe Wan Lawrence was heard throughout the Millenium Kijang. "Relax, don't fight the Resource Emperor. Let the config be with you. If you feel the power of the config you will be safe on the project until well after integration testing."

As if in direct contradiction, a massive Logistics bolt shot out from the Resource Star, seeking any consultant with PP experience on their GCF. Tom Skywalker should not have been in danger but his blank GCF had confused the Emperor and the beam scorched past Tom's head, burning his hair to an bright orange stubble.

Obe Wan Lawrence's voice came again. "Relax. Let the config be with you. The Jedi consultants will protect you from the dark side of the transaction codes and direct table maintenance, with their superior IMG skills."

"For goodness sake," yelled Hans. "Shut up you old fool. Don't you know there is configuration out there that can only be reached through the dark side."

The deck of the Millenium Kijang trembled and a deep booming voice roared out. "It is too late. I have captured the Princess and soon she will tell me your secrets of business area validations. Even the mysteries of inter-company, inter-branch and inter-unit postings will be revealed and then the development system will be mine." The dreaded Kenneth Vader had penetrated the Kijang's shields.

Hans spilled another gin and tonic but this time he had learnt the lesson of the straw.

"Yoda Butcher, where are you. We need your help. We need the master of the Jedi consultants." Princess Yean Lin had appeared behind Kenneth Vader, struggling, very attractively, in the arms of two vicious, brutal QA Stormtroopers (who shall remain nameless to protect the career of the author).

"A Jedi consulting master am I," came the familiar croak of Yoda Butcher. "Here to save you will I come." SPLAT. Another bolt of energy shot out and squashed Yoda.

"Was that the Resource Emperor," asked Rama Chewbacca.

"No, it was the Singapore Speak Good English Campaign. They couldn't take any more of his fractured grammar. 900 years of Jedi SAP training and he never made it to an English class." Obe Wan Lawrence provided the answer, trying to show that he might be an old fool, but at least he was a well spoken old fool.

Fortunately, Vader and the Emperor had been so distracted by the switch from configuration to linguistics and so pleased with the destruction of the annoying little frog, that everyone else had a chance to grab their config light sabres.