Personal logs, delivery notes, survival warnings, music diaries, cleaning reports and official Eric Strudelhofen regulations from across the Space 2047 universe.
The universe is vast, but good lipstick travels further.
Three planets have requested diplomatic training after Susan winked at their ambassadors.
Never kiss an alien until you know where its mouth officially begins.
Susan declared the Communications Hub insufficiently romantic and replaced one alarm with smooth jazz.
A regulation a day keeps democracy confused.
All spoons must be admired for at least three seconds before use.
Any suspicious pastry is property of the state until I have finished eating it.
Citizens must salute small sandwiches because greatness often arrives in compact form.
A successful delivery is one where nobody sues the moustache.
Parcel asked to speak to my manager. I promoted Cedric temporarily and hid behind the cargo bay.
My moustache was mistaken for a diplomatic flag by a traffic warden moon. Negotiations remain itchy.
Delivered three crates of Space Cheese to Nouala. Eric immediately declared cheese a taxable emotion.
I have survived three alien invasions and one of Gerald’s rehearsals. I fear nothing except paperwork.
Cedric opened a crate labelled Definitely Not Dangerous. It was dangerous.
If the galaxy ends, I would like it recorded that I warned everyone first.
Gerald tried to tune his guitar using the engine. The engine now plays jazz.
I do not chase dirt. Dirt flees me.
Brian described the floor as clean enough. Brian has been reported.
Sixteen teacups entered low orbit. Recovery net deployed.
Space Cheese residue resisted standard mop. Upgraded to heroic mop.
The cargo bay is not haunted. It is administratively unsettled.
One crate of socks became three crates of suspiciously organised underpants.
The cheese has started humming. Gertrude says this is unhygienic.
Parcel 9B walked away. It left a forwarding address and a rude drawing.
MAAM hospitality includes tea, biscuits and a legally worrying number of teeth.
Do not accept hugs from anything with more than two elbows and a bib.
Space Cheese distracts MAAM aliens for exactly nine seconds. Use those seconds wisely.
Brian survived MAAM territory by pretending his moustache was an endangered species.
Music is the language of the universe, except on Tuesday when it is mostly feedback.
My guitar picked up a distress call from a sandwich.
Recorded a song with the engine room. The chorus exploded beautifully.
Misplaced guitar again. Suspect gravity, Brian, or a very ambitious cupboard.
Royal patience is infinite. Mine, sadly, is not.
Citizens of space, please stop naming moons after lunch items.
Never accept a crown from a planet that also offers you a receipt.
Eric Strudelhofen attempted to bow to himself in a mirror. Talks remain difficult.
