Personal logs, delivery notes, survival warnings, music diaries, cleaning reports and official Eric Strudelhofen regulations from across the Space 2047 universe.
Order is important. Especially when ordering strudel.
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.
Anyone taller than Eric must crouch during official photographs.
The cargo bay is not haunted. It is administratively unsettled.
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.
The cheese has started humming. Gertrude says this is unhygienic.
They are friendly, affectionate and catastrophically bitey.
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.
Brian survived MAAM territory by pretending his moustache was an endangered species.
Romance in space requires confidence, oxygen and a reliable escape pod.
Never kiss an alien until you know where its mouth officially begins.
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.
Dust is not inevitable. Dust is a declaration of war.
Robot underpants discovered in vent shaft. Sanitisation ongoing.
Brian described the floor as clean enough. Brian has been reported.
Dust level reached 0.04%. Emergency mopping protocols activated.
The galaxy would be easier to manage if everyone listened to me immediately and without snacks.
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.
Brian means well, which is often how trouble begins.
Every galaxy has a key. Unfortunately, mine is slightly out of tune.
Misplaced guitar again. Suspect gravity, Brian, or a very ambitious cupboard.
Played one chord so powerful the Communications Hub asked for a lie down.
Invented a new genre called panic funk. Karen says it already existed whenever I enter a room.
The trick to surviving space is simple: never trust anything smiling with too many teeth.
Crew evacuated in six seconds. Brian returned for his moustache comb and ruined the average.
Cedric opened a crate labelled Definitely Not Dangerous. It was dangerous.
Eric Strudelhofen has made breathing paperwork-adjacent. Avoid official buildings.
Never trust a package that looks smug.
Collected vinegar near the event horizon. Lost two chips, one receipt and most of Tuesday.
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.
