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.
Never accept a crown from a planet that also offers you a receipt.
Brian means well, which is often how trouble begins.
Eric Strudelhofen attempted to bow to himself in a mirror. Talks remain difficult.
The cargo bay is not haunted. It is administratively unsettled.
Found one moon, two spoons and a small legal department behind the emergency biscuits.
A box marked Fragile bit the forklift. Forklift expected to recover emotionally.
The cheese has started humming. Gertrude says this is unhygienic.
Romance in space requires confidence, oxygen and a reliable escape pod.
Three planets have requested diplomatic training after Susan winked at their ambassadors.
Brian attempted charm. Medical bay recommends rest and fewer eyebrows.
Susan declared the Communications Hub insufficiently romantic and replaced one alarm with smooth jazz.
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.
Brian described the floor as clean enough. Brian has been reported.
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.
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.
They are friendly, affectionate and catastrophically bitey.
Space Cheese distracts MAAM aliens for exactly nine seconds. Use those seconds wisely.
Karen has negotiated a treaty based on snacks, distance and shouting.
The MAAM delegation greeted the crew warmly, then tried to season Cedric.
A regulation a day keeps democracy confused.
Any suspicious pastry is property of the state until I have finished eating it.
Laughing without a permit is allowed only on alternate Wednesdays.
Citizens must salute small sandwiches because greatness often arrives in compact form.
Music is the language of the universe, except on Tuesday when it is mostly feedback.
Misplaced guitar again. Suspect gravity, Brian, or a very ambitious cupboard.
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.
Never trust a package that looks smug.
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.
Took a shortcut through a wormhole and arrived before I had left. I still billed overtime.
