Space Captain Duncan Flight orders from the Paradox Pizza Company.

There was a knock on the door. Flight opened it. A young fellow in green overalls with a luminous orange high-visibility vest and a scooter helmet stood there, presenting a large insulated bag.

"Pizza." The man said.

Flight was confused. "Sorry, I didn't order pizza."

"No, but you will. Paradox Pizza Company." He shifted the box slightly to rest on his arm and reached into a pocket, producing a receipt. "You order two twelve-inch chicken allons-y with a side of dalek bread in about..." he squinted, "an hour from now."

"Oh." Flight took the three boxes from the bag. "So, how much do I...?"

"You paid by credit card. All sorted mate."

"Ah, thanks very much." He fumbled for some small change and deposited a few coins in the man's hand. "So, Paradox Pizza eh? Is the paradox if I don't place the order?"

"Nope, you will certainly place the order in approximately..." he checked his watch. "...fifty eight minutes' time."

"How do you know?"

"You're British. You'll place the order."

"So what's the paradox?"

The man smiled. "The paradox is how you get hold of our number. It's on the menu there." He pointed out a folded sheet of paper taped to the top of the box. 

"I see. Well, thanks very much, I'll place the order later." Flight closed the door and turned round, barely making out the sound of the delivery driver counting the coins and muttering the words "tight git."

Excerpt from Chapter 16 - The Death Moon!

The bridge door hissed open, admitting Lieutenant Church, who took up a dramatic pose behind Flight's right shoulder. "Sorry to spoil the party Captain, but that ain't no moon. It's a space station."
Flight gave a small huff. "Isn't."
"What?"
"There's no such word as 'ain't'. I'll overlook the gratuitous use of a double negative, but the phrase you're looking for is 'that isn't a moon, it's a space station'." He then realised what he had just said. "Oh..."

Scene for Men of Iron! - Flight meets Professor Hoker's second-latest creation.

Professor Hoker took a step back as the hydraulic door hissed open. "Let me introduce you to..." he paused for effect as a six-foot tall metal machine glided through, a pepper-pot shaped body topped with a domed head, from which a single electronic eye swept the room intently. "The Dedicated Anti-Lifeform Electro-plasmic Killotron!"
Flight's jaw dropped. "Oh my god!" He swallowed hard. "I am so sorry."
Hoker was taken ever-so-slightly aback. "Pardon?"
"I honestly didn't realise it was a prototype robot killing machine," Flight confessed with the air of a guilty schoolchild, "I thought it was some new kind of portable lavatory. I mean, I was really quite desperate - you know, touching cloth almost. I saw it was following me around back there and saw the little button on the front..."
"What? You're not even supposed to be able to see the maintenance hatch button!"
"Well, it was the obvious place for one - I pressed it and the lid just sort of popped open. So, you know, needs must when the Devil drives and all that. I just..."
The professor stood in stunned silence as the Dedicated Anti-Lifeform Electroplasmic Killotron stumbled forward in a way only something that hovered two inches above the floor could stumble. "If it's any help I did happen to lose one of my best ties."
"Oh dear," Marcus frowned, "the bottle-green Paisley?"
"I'd just finished when I realised there was no paper."