Personal logs, delivery notes, survival warnings, music diaries, cleaning reports and official Eric Strudelhofen regulations from across the Space 2047 universe.
The trick to surviving space is simple: never trust anything smiling with too many teeth.
Eric Strudelhofen has made breathing paperwork-adjacent. Avoid official buildings.
Gerald tried to tune his guitar using the engine. The engine now plays jazz.
Cedric opened a crate labelled Definitely Not Dangerous. It was dangerous.
Music is the language of the universe, except on Tuesday when it is mostly feedback.
Misplaced guitar again. Suspect gravity, Brian, or a very ambitious cupboard.
Played one chord so powerful the Communications Hub asked for a lie down.
Invented a new genre called panic funk. Karen says it already existed whenever I enter a room.
If a MAAM alien says dinner is served, clarify whether you are dinner.
Space Cheese distracts MAAM aliens for exactly nine seconds. Use those seconds wisely.
Do not accept hugs from anything with more than two elbows and a bib.
Brian survived MAAM territory by pretending his moustache was an endangered species.
The universe is vast, but good lipstick travels further.
Brian attempted charm. Medical bay recommends rest and fewer eyebrows.
If someone calls themselves irresistible, check for hidden tentacles and unpaid parking fines.
Three planets have requested diplomatic training after Susan winked at their ambassadors.
The cargo bay is not haunted. It is administratively unsettled.
Parcel 9B walked away. It left a forwarding address and a rude drawing.
One crate of socks became three crates of suspiciously organised underpants.
Found one moon, two spoons and a small legal department behind the emergency biscuits.
A queen of the cosmos must remain calm, radiant and extremely suspicious.
Never accept a crown from a planet that also offers you a receipt.
Brian means well, which is often how trouble begins.
Eric Strudelhofen attempted to bow to himself in a mirror. Talks remain difficult.
Never trust a package that looks smug.
My moustache was mistaken for a diplomatic flag by a traffic warden moon. Negotiations remain itchy.
Took a shortcut through a wormhole and arrived before I had left. I still billed overtime.
Collected vinegar near the event horizon. Lost two chips, one receipt and most of Tuesday.
Dust is not inevitable. Dust is a declaration of war.
Dust level reached 0.04%. Emergency mopping protocols activated.
Robot underpants discovered in vent shaft. Sanitisation ongoing.
Sixteen teacups entered low orbit. Recovery net deployed.
A regulation a day keeps democracy confused.
Anyone taller than Eric must crouch during official photographs.
Laughing without a permit is allowed only on alternate Wednesdays.
Citizens must salute small sandwiches because greatness often arrives in compact form.
