Personal logs, delivery notes, survival warnings, music diaries, cleaning reports and official Eric Strudelhofen regulations from across the Space 2047 universe.
I have survived three alien invasions and one of Gerald’s rehearsals. I fear nothing except paperwork.
Gerald tried to tune his guitar using the engine. The engine now plays jazz.
Cedric opened a crate labelled Definitely Not Dangerous. It was dangerous.
If the galaxy ends, I would like it recorded that I warned everyone first.
I do not chase dirt. Dirt flees me.
Brian described the floor as clean enough. Brian has been reported.
Sixteen teacups entered low orbit. Recovery net deployed.
Robot underpants discovered in vent shaft. Sanitisation ongoing.
Royal patience is infinite. Mine, sadly, is not.
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.
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.
Found one moon, two spoons and a small legal department behind the emergency biscuits.
If the parcel is ticking, humming or politely asking for legal representation, do not sign for it.
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.
My moustache was mistaken for a diplomatic flag by a traffic warden moon. Negotiations remain itchy.
A kiss can stop a war, start a war, or make Brian walk into a door.
Brian attempted charm. Medical bay recommends rest and fewer eyebrows.
Never kiss an alien until you know where its mouth officially begins.
Susan declared the Communications Hub insufficiently romantic and replaced one alarm with smooth jazz.
Every galaxy has a key. Unfortunately, mine is slightly out of tune.
Misplaced guitar again. Suspect gravity, Brian, or a very ambitious cupboard.
My guitar picked up a distress call from a sandwich.
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.
Brian survived MAAM territory by pretending his moustache was an endangered species.
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.
A regulation a day keeps democracy confused.
All spoons must be admired for at least three seconds before use.
Anyone taller than Eric must crouch during official photographs.
Laughing without a permit is allowed only on alternate Wednesdays.
