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.
Susan declared the Communications Hub insufficiently romantic and replaced one alarm with smooth jazz.
Brian attempted charm. Medical bay recommends rest and fewer eyebrows.
Three planets have requested diplomatic training after Susan winked at their ambassadors.
Cleanliness is next to survivability.
Sixteen teacups entered low orbit. Recovery net deployed.
Dust level reached 0.04%. Emergency mopping protocols activated.
Robot underpants discovered in vent shaft. Sanitisation ongoing.
The galaxy would be easier to manage if everyone listened to me immediately and without snacks.
Brian means well, which is often how trouble begins.
Never accept a crown from a planet that also offers you a receipt.
I have reviewed Gerald’s latest song and declared it almost legal.
Nouala is free, provided everyone does exactly what I say before I say it.
All spoons must be admired for at least three seconds before use.
Laughing without a permit is allowed only on alternate Wednesdays.
Anyone taller than Eric must crouch during official photographs.
The trick to surviving space is simple: never trust anything smiling with too many teeth.
Cedric opened a crate labelled Definitely Not Dangerous. It was dangerous.
Crew evacuated in six seconds. Brian returned for his moustache comb and ruined the average.
If the galaxy ends, I would like it recorded that I warned everyone first.
If a MAAM alien says dinner is served, clarify whether you are dinner.
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.
Karen has negotiated a treaty based on snacks, distance and shouting.
If a crate screams, inventory it quickly and from a distance.
Found one moon, two spoons and a small legal department behind the emergency biscuits.
Parcel 9B walked away. It left a forwarding address and a rude drawing.
A box marked Fragile bit the forklift. Forklift expected to recover emotionally.
A successful delivery is one where nobody sues the moustache.
Took a shortcut through a wormhole and arrived before I had left. I still billed overtime.
Delivered three crates of Space Cheese to Nouala. Eric immediately declared cheese a taxable emotion.
Parcel asked to speak to my manager. I promoted Cedric temporarily and hid behind the cargo bay.
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.
Recorded a song with the engine room. The chorus exploded beautifully.
My guitar picked up a distress call from a sandwich.
