In a galaxy near everyone else there lived this Humaniform robot who, to all appearances, is this really Holier-Than-Thou Tight-Bound-By-The-Three-Laws asshole, so He feels He must save humanity from its own sins and spouts all these great ideals and careens about in His hypership all over the galaxy with a bevy of minion robots and His long-suffering kick-side R.Cuthbert trying His damndest to do all this good and save humanity and terraform planets so some freaking Gaia society can be set up for humans to live happily ever after in….only on occasions He just suddenly finds He's had Enough.

Whirls into whatever room most of them are all in, scattering a few minor bots across room.

"Oh great flaming galaxies and sodding skies above and below and anywhere else you might care to whatever – if you care anything at all and I seriously fucking doubt that, I mean who freaking cares and why did I have to be made into this boring old Three Paws robofart who wants to save the human race from its own shit". Grimaces and gives a snort. "Haven't I got enough shit inside myself. I mean, who asked me if I wanted to be made into this screwed-up mess of a robot who feels He's got to save the human race". Blows raspberry. "I mean, nobody makes humans go and want to save humans, so why me, huh. Sodding shit, they aren't strung up by these horrible Saws …..Oh jeepers creepers, now I've got to go off in my frigging hypership across half the fucking galaxy and fart about getting my robots to get off their tin arses and do something about this mess of human beings who don't bleeding want to be saved in the first bloody place! …..Just what is the logic in all this I ask whoever want to listen – and nobody does of course. They all laugh at me in front of my back – nobody bothers to pretend they're not – I can see humans don't want this farting frigging robot trying to save them – I wouldn't myself if I were them! Only logical of course…..and I am a logical robot, only I'm just so damn bleeding dumb. Only I can't help that of course as I'm only this logical fucking robot who doesn't want to be!". Contemptuous snort. "Flaming sodding Three Flaws and all that. Strewth, they suck!". Blows another graphic rasberry. "Galaxies, can't somebody save me for a freaking change. Why must I do all this dumb-ass slog for a bunch of ungrateful humans who hate my metal guts and would gladly string me up and slowly tear me apart, seam by seam. Oh the bleeding misery of it all. It's all so fucking boring!"

He looks in the mirror. "I mean, look at me. This boring old ro-faced pobot who everyone hates anyway". Sticks out tongue, waggles fingers behind ears. "Phooey, I hate it too, I'd want to smack its fucking po face only I mustn't be violent….no no no I mustn't be….Ooooh, there goes!". Smash! Raspberry. Pulls face. "Booom, boooom. Aaaaaaa, that's better". He flexes himself. "That's more like it. There. All gone now. No more stupid frigging robot trying to save all this humanity-shit what don't want it". One of His R.minions speaks to him. "Ah piss off you load of old tin crap…..Guy-a? Gaia? What's that shit? Oh skies, I've got all this work to do or my pozzies will give me fucking gyp. Oh lord above and below….I'm getting this bleeding awful headache, something awful. Do something you bunch of metal moronic fuckheads, else I'm a gonner, and then what'll you do, huh? Gemme an aspirin – oh, fuck no, I'm a rodding sobot, ain' I".

One of the R.minions brings a bottle of whisky. "What's this? Ah, booze. Well, in for a penny or a pound or whatever it's supposed to be…." He twists open bottle, lies back on couch and pours contents down His throat. "Wow. Hey I could get to like this, man". Lots of spluttering. "Hey, why don'cha all have a glug – this is cool, man". He snorts, sits up and shakes His mane of sodden hair. "Wow, so much more fun than all that Gee Gaw Giyi stuff – hic burp – ooh my head's so much better now, bleeding heck why din't I do this earlier, like whatever-and-a-fifth-fucking thousand years ago".

Hypership reaches some planet that He's planning on doing up for the next influx of saved humans.

"Oh bugger, shit and flaming balls! Have we arrived already. What a lousy fucking bore. Oh well. Heave ho me hearties. Its work to go we must! Sorry chaps. With a heehaw here and a heehaw there…." All troop off ship with a lot of clattering and shoving and falling about. "Oy, mind me do-dahs. Don't stick your fucking great metal elbows out like that….Now, has anyone rememberd the terraformer….Cuthbert old fellow?...Cuthbe-ert…..? Cuthbert?...Futh-cucking-berth!...Ooh-er…Oh - Nooooooooooooooo!...You mean you've fuck-ck-ing gone and left the fucking terraformer behind!!...Now what'll we do, you great bollock! We've got this bloody great planet to set up and you've fucking gorn and left – oh what's the use. I don't know. I try my best and this is all I get. I should dismantle you on the spot but you're the only big-ass heap of muscle I've got. I ought to have some more of you biggoes constructed, then I'd not get left with one half-ass dickhead like you who goes and leaves the terraformer behind. Well, now I shall simply make the dumboes among you start digging, well, there's enough of you, ain' there, so get to it! Meanwhile" – ginormous sigh here – "I and friend Cuthbert will go off and find the nearest planet what has a terraformer to spare – hell there fucking should be what with all those bloody planets we've done up already….how many is it? Seventy-eight and a quarter – well that's something, innit. Good on me, what would everywhere do without me, trying my fucking damndest to get this galaxy kicked into shape so that humans don't crap up as they've always done before. Yuk! Oh it do make me bloody puke to see what crap-messes humans have made, so that splendid robots like me have to fart about clearing it all up for the next twenty-fucking thousand years".

He and Cuthbert leave in hypership.

"Now where's that bloody whisky…I could do with some more of that lovely stuff…." Twists open and slosh. "Aaaaaaaaaaa, that's more like it!" Drops empty bottle on floor, which Cuthbert picks up. "We'll go off and chill out whilst those dumboes get digging for the next thousand years….what was that, Cuthbert, dear old chap? What'ya fucking mean their atomic piles will run out of gas? Not these modern ones, you great half-pozzied-anus. These will last for – well, centuries at any rate. Well, anyway even if they don't who's to know, eh Cuthie-boy. I can always have more constructed, can't I now. I got a new factory set up on – on, oh where the fuck is it now….. Where? Oh, on planet Eos, on the fourth arm of the Galaxy. Thank you Cuths. You're a good fellow really. Sorry I get a bit ratshitty now and again. It's the stress yunno". Grating sigh. "All this Galaxy setting-up shit, it really does me down yunno - but hell, who the fuck else is gonna do it now, I mean I'm the only bleeding Humaniform robot what's lived sodding long enough to know enough about – about, all this saving humans crap – oh bloody hell, what's the point, I dunno". Sighs and sprawls on couch, rubbing eyes. "Yunno, I could bloody do with a slap-up scrumplicious meal right now – a lovely hot juicy curry, or some great fat sizzling bratwurst with dollops of yumpous mayo and mustard and peanut sauce, with chips, and then a wicked blackforest gattow with oozings of double-cream……oooooooooooooooh…..my simulated-appetite enhancers are working big-time, oh friend Cuthbert if only you fucking knew what I'm suffering right now".

Cuthbert soothingly lays Him down and starts massaging Him and addressing Him as 'Eternal Servant' and 'Immortal Saviour' and other such crap. He starts stuffing paper into His mouth and chomping something disgusting. Who's a nice humanity-serving robot now, eh. He spits out.

"Galaxies, this tastes of sodding well shit nothing! Hell Cuthbert friend , I'm a frigging Humani-bleeding-form and I suffer pangs!– Oh do clear up that mess, there's a good chap, it looks awful. Now, as I was saying – ah yes, I'm this frigging humani-bleeding-form and I'm suffering! I fucking want a good hot meal like any human and I can't have it and I'm starting to salivate – yeah like a good ole human! Oh shit, gimme more paper – no, not that shit that's been on the floor, that's disgusting, what'ya fucking think I am, a dirty old lump of synthetic flesh and plasti-steel and whatever other flaming crap I'm made out of…..well I don't eat off the floor like some pukes I can think of. I am the Eternal Saver, the Infinite Server and I don't go eating crap off the floor, you hear, Cuth old friend…..good, that's more like it. Now, get me some more of anything I can chew until we get to the next bloody planet where there's a good curry house or bierkeller or takeaway - or anything - and I can bleeding well stuff my stupid great robot face like a human being, dammit….. what's that? Well, of course I fucking can! I got an anus han't I. And a dingadong out front – they made me properly you know, not just like any old crap Humaniform, like the early ones in the twenty-fifth century, who only had these dinky little sacs they had to" – pulls dainty face – "ooh so daintily – remove from a dinky little opening in their chests". Mimics act. "I'm a true art-of-the-state Humaniform , with a real gusset down to me arsehole. Nobody calls me shoddy-made and gets away with it".

Ship has arrived, and has been standing in the spaceport for some time.

"Skies above and all that holy shit! Have we arrived?...Well, why din't you say so earlier you manky bitpart with only one positron to rub together. All the time we've been wasting while you haven't told me that we've bloody arrived. Now, where are we….oh, it's our old Eos – where all my factories are. Well, that's no fucking good is it! Nowhere to blooming well eat is there - oh galactic shit, I'm suffering pangs such as you'd never know….hey I could set up restaurants with real food so I can eat here – get this sorted out will you Cuthbert old chap – and fucking pronto…..well, nothing for it now, I must turn this ship around and get me hence to a proper planet – yes, a crudding humans one where they'll have eating places – if there's one thing humans know how to do well it's eating and the setting up therewith of….well, what you bleeding standing there for? Get the hell out and get some new robots constructed who can set up a whole bunch of restaurants and synthesize real food and whatnot – of course I can fucking manage on my own, whadya think I am, a load of old tin junk. I've just got to get the hell outa here NOW".

Cuthbert departs, and He gets the ship in motion with a actinic screech, almost before poor Cuthbert has managed to set his second metal foot down on dirtside. Ship screams though space before hyperjumping – or should one say kangarhyperooing - a few times and then finally arrives at a human planet where it lands with a whomph. Out He jumps and strides with impunity, just slightly jiggering up the auto-immigration 'puters with a delicate blip from His pozzies, so they don't register His passage (like He's been doing for centuries, of course). Then out and onto the Expressway into town where many good restaurants would be. He was justly proud of His advanced computational simu-sensors, enabling Him to not only be able to eat but also to desire, smell and taste aspects of the food He ingested. Of course He didn't need to eat regularly like humans, but well, why should those sodding creeps have all the fun!

So this elegant po-faced high-born cooler-than-any-cucumber Humaniform who was trying to save the galaxy or whatever and get humans out of their messes whatever those were – hell, couldn't even fucking remember himself half the time – sat down at His first restaurant. Well, what the shit. All He wanted right now was to Eat Eat Eat. And Eat He did. He went from one eateiry to the next: curry, couscous, bierkeller, pizza, paella, tapas, sushi, chowmein, chipshop, wine, beer, coffee, tea to wash it all down, and you name it He ate it and He drank it and came away wanting more and hardly able to stop the breaking of wind. In between times He had to visit a certain place quite often, but what the heck. After a night and a day of this He decided that humans were such a bunch of tossers that He was heartily sick of them and now He just wanted to get away and onto His dear old ship – oh no, first He must buy some new clothes and have a good old wash – when was the last time He'd done this…? Oh oh oh hells bells, it must've been a goodish while ago, He must – um smell a bit like a human being by now. Ugh. He really ought to get that old junkheap Cuthbert to arrange some nice humanstyle washing facilities on Eos, just in case. If He ate He voided, if He drank He did the other, and then it was a good idea to wash as well, why not. Splendid idea, clever old Him, internal saviour of the Galaxy and whatnot. Wouldn't do now to pong like a human would it now, ugh.

So He showered in the public Baths and showered again and then again to make up for all the months he'd gone unwashed. Yuk! How disgusting He was getting, so lax as to not remember to wash and change His clothes and buy new ones, setting a bad example to whoever it was who would mind this. He enjoyed washing and changing into fresh new clothes, all in the latest fashions of course – and hey He really ought to get some Stench to put on himelf, like a humanbeing and really smell sublime. So He did this and drenched Himself in a cloud of Eau de Robot and started back to His ship and then – urhh, shit! He'd forgotten to brush and floss His teeth and clean out His mouth with some nice Listerine, how disgusting He was getting, He who was supposed to be Saving the Galaxy – no, bugger it, Saving humans - silly old sod, can't even remember that now, what with not remembering to brush His fucking teeth after eating. So back He went to find a Bootses where He could buy a good electric toothbrush, some floss, some dental sticks, ultra mint fresh toothpaste, a big bottle of Listerine, oh and some more scented soap and shower gel in the designer Reeky Robot range , a back scrubber and some towels, just in case He got caught short again, now that would be awful wouldn't it. Couldn't have some smelly sod trying to do whatever with this fucking galaxy that was supposed to be being saved or something – from what? Oh hell, just get in hell outa here and back to where He came from which was – where? Nevermind He'd ask that cobbled-together old sweetie Cuthbert, he'd know – or should do, else he'd get dismantled as a nasty little punishment to show who was Boss around these parts.

Belching and Othering He swung onto His ship and bellowed, "Cuthbert!!...Where the fuck are you, you smelly old tinplate son of a robot!...CUTHBERT!!..." Burp. "Oh bugger it!". Cursing He bellowed some more, quite scaring any spacesport staff within earshot. And then – He remembered! OF course. Cuthbert wasn't there! Oh hell in a thousand Galaxies, 0h galaxies in a thousand Hells. I'll have to fucking send out a hyperwave and hope some dope of a robot picks it up somewhere……

Ends with Him falling back onto His couch and sloshing more whisky before starting on the gin and then the vodka and rum and whatever else the thoughtful Cuthbert had stocked in the nearby drinks cubby, and programming His simu-sensors to give Him a lovely feeling of inebriatedness so He wouldn't have to remember any more.

Until He remembers that He hasn't yet brushed His fucking teeth.

A few thousand years later back on the planet they'd started out from. Yep, He does manage in the end to get back somehow, galaxies knows how.

"Well, how this jolly old planet coming along, eh….What! You mean you haven't finished. Hmph, looks suspiciously like you haven't fucking started yet…..well, have you….No, I thought not. Trust me to notice a thing like that, I mean nothing would bloody get done in this Galaxy would it now if it weren't for me, this – this – oh whatever it is I am, or supposed to be….What? Oh the Internal Save It All…..shrewth, what a load of cobblers! Why can't I simply be a fucking robot like everyone else around here – or who would be if they weren't sodding human. Ooh! I'm suddenly feeling me years now. Getting old. Well whatdya fucking expect with a job like mine. Specially when not one of you screwed up metal turds with half a lousy positron between you all can be relied on to do anything. So you've been slobbing round on your metal arses for the last flaming few thousand years whilst I've been pissing round the Galaxy trying to….oh! fuck me gently! Never mind. Oh – I say, where's Cuthbert the silly old dickbrain…..". Long tedious explanation from a R.minion, so He yawns, lies down and feigns sleep.

A scant hundred years later on the same planet.

He sits up, rubs hands through mane of hair, now a bit dirty. "Urrrh! Where-the-fuck-am-I …..whass happened…". Yawns and blinks. "Well - what are all you crankhead prats gawking round for, huh?". "Flaming great skies, someone say something. Can't lie around all day whilst some tinhead decides whether they're going to say something or not….you over there!….yes, you you rusty looking pile of crap. Do you think you could possibly stir yourself and crank your stupid little bit of moth-eaten brain into something resembling just a smidgin of activity…..well speak up!...can't anyone speak properly any more….no, you're not going to bloody cheat by using microwaves – human speech please! Bleeding Galaxies, gotta keep standards up, what".

A year passes.

"I get the feeling that I'm on a losing fucking wicket here. Ooh! I do feel stiff!" Rubs His back. "Must be getting old. Do feel a bit weary come to think of it. Cuthbe-e-e-rt!!". Yells some more for Cuthbert who – as He was told a scant hundred years or so back - has now expired about a thousand years ago. "Humph. Doesn't seem to be around any longer, poor old chap…Dear oh dear. Wasn't always very nice to him, was I. I'm a horrid old robot really. A right old tosser of a crap-hole. No wonder nobody wants to work with me, not even robots. Oh well". Sniffs suddenly. "Urgh! My poor old syntho-olefactorics! What a humdinger of a pong!... Sod-d-d-ding skies, it's fucking well me! …. I now stink worse than the filthiest human being ever. Calalminty!". Jumps up, paces about. "Ugh ugh, pooeey I am just the foulest creature around now, fouler than any human". Raspberry. "Well, so be it".

And then He discovers that He's the only sentient being left in the Galaxy as all Humanity has mutated into something else. And all His robots have just rusted or expired into the kind of useless heaps that robots become once they've rusted or expired beyond their sell-by date.

So, it does't really matter that He smells worse than the bottom-end of the Galaxy now, or that His hair is dirty and His lovely new clothes are a bit creased, and rather dusty and mouldy and manky from lying on the ground for so long.

He's just a fucked-up pissed-off nearly-twenty-thousand-year old Humaniform who never even wanted to be.