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.
If the galaxy ends, I would like it recorded that I warned everyone first.
The cargo bay is not haunted. It is administratively unsettled.
The cheese has started humming. Gertrude says this is unhygienic.
One crate of socks became three crates of suspiciously organised underpants.
Parcel 9B walked away. It left a forwarding address and a rude drawing.
Nouala is free, provided everyone does exactly what I say before I say it.
Laughing without a permit is allowed only on alternate Wednesdays.
Citizens must salute small sandwiches because greatness often arrives in compact form.
Any suspicious pastry is property of the state until I have finished eating it.
The universe is vast, but good lipstick travels further.
Three planets have requested diplomatic training after Susan winked at their ambassadors.
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.
Dust is not inevitable. Dust is a declaration of war.
Sixteen teacups entered low orbit. Recovery net deployed.
Robot underpants discovered in vent shaft. Sanitisation ongoing.
Space Cheese residue resisted standard mop. Upgraded to heroic mop.
If the parcel is ticking, humming or politely asking for legal representation, do not sign for it.
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.
Collected vinegar near the event horizon. Lost two chips, one receipt and most of Tuesday.
Every galaxy has a key. Unfortunately, mine is slightly out of tune.
Misplaced guitar again. Suspect gravity, Brian, or a very ambitious cupboard.
Recorded a song with the engine room. The chorus exploded beautifully.
Invented a new genre called panic funk. Karen says it already existed whenever I enter a room.
A queen of the cosmos must remain calm, radiant and extremely suspicious.
Brian means well, which is often how trouble begins.
Citizens of space, please stop naming moons after lunch items.
I have reviewed Gerald’s latest song and declared it almost legal.
They are friendly, affectionate and catastrophically bitey.
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 MAAM delegation greeted the crew warmly, then tried to season Cedric.
