Personal logs, delivery notes, survival warnings, music diaries, cleaning reports and official Eric Strudelhofen regulations from across the Space 2047 universe.
Music is the language of the universe, except on Tuesday when it is mostly feedback.
Played one chord so powerful the Communications Hub asked for a lie down.
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.
MAAM hospitality includes tea, biscuits and a legally worrying number of teeth.
The MAAM delegation greeted the crew warmly, then tried to season Cedric.
Karen has negotiated a treaty based on snacks, distance and shouting.
Space Cheese distracts MAAM aliens for exactly nine seconds. Use those seconds wisely.
Cleanliness is next to survivability.
Dust level reached 0.04%. Emergency mopping protocols activated.
Brian described the floor as clean enough. Brian has been reported.
Sixteen teacups entered low orbit. Recovery net deployed.
Order is important. Especially when ordering strudel.
Any suspicious pastry is property of the state until I have finished eating it.
All spoons must be admired for at least three seconds before use.
Anyone taller than Eric must crouch during official photographs.
If the parcel is ticking, humming or politely asking for legal representation, do not sign for it.
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.
A good cargo officer knows what is in every crate. I have chosen a more mysterious path.
One crate of socks became three crates of suspiciously organised underpants.
A box marked Fragile bit the forklift. Forklift expected to recover emotionally.
Parcel 9B walked away. It left a forwarding address and a rude drawing.
Romance in space requires confidence, oxygen and a reliable escape pod.
If someone calls themselves irresistible, check for hidden tentacles and unpaid parking fines.
Brian attempted charm. Medical bay recommends rest and fewer eyebrows.
Never kiss an alien until you know where its mouth officially begins.
If Brian says it is probably fine, put your helmet on.
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.
Crew evacuated in six seconds. Brian returned for his moustache comb and ruined the average.
Royal patience is infinite. Mine, sadly, is not.
Brian means well, which is often how trouble begins.
Eric Strudelhofen attempted to bow to himself in a mirror. Talks remain difficult.
Citizens of space, please stop naming moons after lunch items.
