Personal logs, delivery notes, survival warnings, music diaries, cleaning reports and official Eric Strudelhofen regulations from across the Space 2047 universe.
Royal patience is infinite. Mine, sadly, is not.
I have reviewed Gerald’s latest song and declared it almost legal.
Eric Strudelhofen attempted to bow to himself in a mirror. Talks remain difficult.
Citizens of space, please stop naming moons after lunch items.
A regulation a day keeps democracy confused.
Laughing without a permit is allowed only on alternate Wednesdays.
Anyone taller than Eric must crouch during official photographs.
Any suspicious pastry is property of the state until I have finished eating it.
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.
Collected vinegar near the event horizon. Lost two chips, one receipt and most of Tuesday.
My moustache was mistaken for a diplomatic flag by a traffic warden moon. Negotiations remain itchy.
If Brian says it is probably fine, put your helmet on.
Eric Strudelhofen has made breathing paperwork-adjacent. Avoid official buildings.
If the galaxy ends, I would like it recorded that I warned everyone first.
Gerald tried to tune his guitar using the engine. The engine now plays jazz.
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.
One crate of socks became three crates of suspiciously organised underpants.
A box marked Fragile bit the forklift. Forklift expected to recover emotionally.
A guitar solo can solve many problems. Not legal problems, but many problems.
Invented a new genre called panic funk. Karen says it already existed whenever I enter a room.
Played one chord so powerful the Communications Hub asked for a lie down.
Recorded a song with the engine room. The chorus exploded beautifully.
A kiss can stop a war, start a war, or make Brian walk into a door.
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.
Susan declared the Communications Hub insufficiently romantic and replaced one alarm with smooth jazz.
I do not chase dirt. Dirt flees me.
Space Cheese residue resisted standard mop. Upgraded to heroic mop.
Dust level reached 0.04%. Emergency mopping protocols activated.
Sixteen teacups entered low orbit. Recovery net deployed.
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.
Brian survived MAAM territory by pretending his moustache was an endangered species.
The MAAM delegation greeted the crew warmly, then tried to season Cedric.
