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.
If someone calls themselves irresistible, check for hidden tentacles and unpaid parking fines.
Never kiss an alien until you know where its mouth officially begins.
Brian attempted charm. Medical bay recommends rest and fewer eyebrows.
If Brian says it is probably fine, put your helmet on.
Eric Strudelhofen has made breathing paperwork-adjacent. Avoid official buildings.
Gerald tried to tune his guitar using the engine. The engine now plays jazz.
If the galaxy ends, I would like it recorded that I warned everyone first.
Never trust a package that looks smug.
My moustache was mistaken for a diplomatic flag by a traffic warden moon. Negotiations remain itchy.
Collected vinegar near the event horizon. Lost two chips, one receipt and most of Tuesday.
Delivered three crates of Space Cheese to Nouala. Eric immediately declared cheese a taxable emotion.
I do not chase dirt. Dirt flees me.
Sixteen teacups entered low orbit. Recovery net deployed.
Robot underpants discovered in vent shaft. Sanitisation ongoing.
Brian described the floor as clean enough. Brian has been reported.
A good cargo officer knows what is in every crate. I have chosen a more mysterious path.
The cheese has started humming. Gertrude says this is unhygienic.
Found one moon, two spoons and a small legal department behind the emergency biscuits.
A box marked Fragile bit the forklift. Forklift expected to recover emotionally.
Nouala is free, provided everyone does exactly what I say before I say it.
Citizens must salute small sandwiches because greatness often arrives in compact form.
Laughing without a permit is allowed only on alternate Wednesdays.
Any suspicious pastry is property of the state until I have finished eating it.
Royal patience is infinite. Mine, sadly, is not.
Never accept a crown from a planet that also offers you a receipt.
Citizens of space, please stop naming moons after lunch items.
Eric Strudelhofen attempted to bow to himself in a mirror. Talks remain difficult.
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.
The MAAM delegation greeted the crew warmly, then tried to season Cedric.
Space Cheese distracts MAAM aliens for exactly nine seconds. Use those seconds wisely.
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.
