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: Sir, I just can't eat any more raw coffee. Lister
: [pouring a jar of coffee grounds into his bowl
] Two more bowls. Kryten
: But I, sir, I am sober, honest! Lister
: OK, who are you and why are you here? Kryten
: I'm some kind of robot, who's fighting this virus, and none of this exists. It's all in a fever. Except for you guys, who really do exist, only you're not really here, you're really in some spaceship in the future. Hell, if that's got to make sense, I don't wanna *be* sober!
: [to the Simulant Captain
] I've no idea who you are, but boarding this vessel is an act of war, ergo we surrender! And as prisoners of war, I invoke the All Nations Agreement article number 39436175880932/B. Kryten
: 39436175880932/B? All nations attending the conference are only allocated one car parking space? Is that entirely relevant, sir? I mean, here we are in mortal danger and you're worried about the Chinese delegates bringing two cars. Rimmer
: Can't you let just one go? I was talking about the right of POWs to non-violet constraint. Kryten
: Well, that's 75880932/C, sir. Rimmer
: It's embarrassing as much as anything else. Here you are totally humiliating me in front of this xenophobic genocidal maniac.
[to the Simulant Captain
: No offence.
: I'm not afraid, Mr. Death, sir. I believe my friends have bought me enough time to complete the antidote program. Now, if you'll forgive the rather confrontational imperative - go for your guns, you scum-sucking molluscs!
: [logging into the AR machine, a 1980s arcade game style title screen for the game 'Gumshoe' appears, then a menu screen
] Choose your character. Oh, honestly! I just want to talk to him. Oh, anything, er... Sammy the Squib - crack shot with Tommy gun. Engage.
[he presses a button and flips his visor down
: Oh, it's so frivolous!
: Scanners report a battle-class cruiser on intercept. Kryten
: It's rogue simulants all right. Rimmer
: Recommend immediate total and unequivocal surrender. Kryten
: Sir, surrender is the worst thing we can do. They despise humans and all forms of humanoid life. They believe you to be the vermin of the universe, sir. Cat
: [looking at Lister
] Didn't even know they'd met him!
: Wait, something's coming back now...
: You, sir... whenever I look at you, I get an image of curry and early morning breath that could cut through bank vaults.
: And you, sir, there's something familiar about you too, I get a name... Smee. Smeeee-heeeee! Rimmer
: Smeg head? Kryten
: That's it. Rimmer
: He remembers me!
[they wake up in the cockpit
: How long have we been out? Lister
: According to the navicom, three weeks! Kryten
: That's strange, the drive interface has been upgraded. So have the engines. Rimmer
: And if this readout's correct, we're armed. Laser cannons. Lister
: They've totally upgraded the whole ship. Cat
: They've even got rid of the squeak on the seat tilt control!
: Sir, the only solution is for me to contract the virus myself, analyse its structure and attempt to create a software antidote before it wipes out my core program. Do I have your permission to sacrifice myself, sirs? Rimmer
: Do lemmings like cliffs? Granted!
: Well, it's been mighty dandy meeting you boys but if I'm not out of here by sun up, the buzzards'll be fightin' the lizards for ma gizzards!
: [Jimmy trips him up as he enters the saloon
] You shouldn't ought to have done that, Jimmy.
[Jimmy rises, everyone backs away
: Why don't you try it, Sheriff. They say you used to be faster than a toilet stop in rattlesnake country.
: Gimme two fingers of your best sipping liquor, Miss Lola. And make it the smooth stuff, the stuff where you get your eyesight back after two days, guaranteed.
: Miss Lola, all my valuables are in this here box. You can have it all for one bottle of mind rotter. Lola
: [taking a pair of pistols out of the box
] You're trading in your shooting irons? Kryten
: No use to me. I got the shakes so bad, I'm like a couple of porcupines on their wedding night. Lola
: Carrots? Kryten
: I'm throwing in my mule, Dignity. Rimmer
: Mr. Sad Git or what?
: I'm a competitive man, Kryten. Always have been. That's what makes me what I am. Kryten
: We're all perfectly well aware of what you are, sir.
: In which case we can remove him from duty as per Space Corps Directive 196156. Kryten
: 196156? Any officer caught sniffing the saddle of the exercise bicycle in the women's gym will be discharged without trial? Hmm. I'm sorry, sir, that doesn't quite get to the nub of the matter for me.
[Kryten has given Rimmer a set of Chinese worry balls to help him cope with his stress-related nerve disorder
: Please, sir, don't panic. Rimmer
: It's not panic, it's a full blown hysterical fit. Kryten
: Grind those balls, sir. Grind them!
: [in Starbug, escaping from a destroyed ship
] All in all a hundred per cent successful trip. Kryten
: But, sir, we lost Mr. Rimmer. The Cat
: All in all, a hundred per cent successful trip.
: There's gotta be a way out. There hasn't been a prison built that could hold Derek Custer. Why don't we scrape away this mortar here, slide one of these bricks out, then using rope weaved from strands of this hessian, we can create a pulley system, so that when a guard comes in over the tripwire, he gets laid out and we put Rimmer in the guard's uniform, he leads us out, we steal some swords and fight our way back to the Bug. Kryten
: Or we could use the teleporter.
: [to a Rogue Simulant
] There's one thing you should know. Last time we met I was wearing a cute little black number with peach trim and gold spangles, and although it looks like I'm wearing the same outfit today, it is in fact an entirely different cute little black number, with completely different gold spangles! Kryten
: That was an important speech, sir, and it needed to be made. Might I suggest, however, that the rest of this discourse is continued by those with brains larger than a grape?
: [to Lister
] Sir, are you really saying you would rather have a psychopathic mechanical killer rip off your skull and play your frontal lobes like a xylophone than have another bowl of my nourishing space nettle soup? The Cat
: Buddy, I'd hand him the sticks and hold up the sheet music!
: Rogue Simulants always carry large stocks of food supply in order to prolong the torment of their torture victims. In some cases, they've kept subjects alive for 40 years in a state of perpetual agony. Rimmer
: If we wanted to live in a state of perpetual agony, we'd let Lister play his guitar.
: [deciding on whether or not to go into an abandoned Rogue Simulant ship and get food
] Kryten, what's for dinner? Kryten
: Tonight, sir, Asteroid and Lichen Stew followed by Dandelion Sorbet. Lister
: We're going in.
: [Lister, Kryten and the Cat are surrounded by a group of bad Rimmers in "Rimmerworld"
] This might sound like a bit of a corny line, but... I can't bring myself round to say it. Rimmer
: Say what? Lister
: Take us to your leader. Kryten
: Sir, how could you?
: [Kryten talks to Rimmer about how long it's going to take the Starbug crew to rescue him from the planet on the other side of the wormhole
] Remember that medieval war, sir, that lasted a long time? Rimmer
: The 30 years war? Kryten
: No, that war, sir. The other war. Rimmer
: The 100 years war? Kryten
: Now take that figure and multiply it by 6 and then you'll come up with your golden number, sir. Rimmer
: 600 years! The Cat
: Pinch me!
: How can you just lie back and accept it? Kryten
: Oh, it's not the end for me, sir, it's just the beginning. I have served my human masters, now I can look forward to my reward in silicon heaven. Lister
: [Stunned pause
] Silicon WHAT? Kryten
: Surely you've heard of silicon heaven? Lister
: Has it got anything to do with being stuck opposite Brigitte Nielsen in a packed lift? Kryten
: No, sir. It's the electronic afterlife. It's the gathering place for the souls of all electronic equipment. Robots, toasters, calculators. It's our final resting place. Lister
: I don't mean to say anything out of place here, Kryten, but that is completely whacko Jacko. There is no such thing as 'Silicon Heaven'. Kryten
: Then where do all the calculators go? Lister
: They don't go anywhere. They just die. Kryten
: Surely you believe that God is in all things? Aren't you a pantheist? Lister
: Yeah, but I just don't think it applies to kitchen utensils. I'm not a FRYING pantheist. Machines do not have souls. Computers and calculators do not have an afterlife. You don't get hairdryers with tiny little wings, sitting on clouds and playing harps. Kryten
: But of course you do. For is it not written in the Electronic Bible, "The Iron shall lie down with the Lamp".
: My goodness. I do believe I'm drunk. I suddenly feel the need... to strut my funky stuff.
: Is this the human quality you call friendship? Lister
: Don't give me any of that Star Trek crap. It's too early in the morning.
[everyone is drunk
: What are you saying, Rimmer? Rimmer
: I'm saying that there is a very real possibility that your parents were brother and sister. Lister
: Hey. I'm pouring me heart out here. Rimmer
: How many toes have you got? Lister
: Ten. The Cat
: Yeah, on both feet. Lister
: Altogether. Kryten
: They're not webbed or anything are they? Lister
: Look, they weren't related, all right?
[Kryten falls off his chair
: Kryten 2X4B 523P? Is that your full name? Kryten
: Yes, but I don't like the 2X4B. Such a dorky middle name. Then again, I knew an android who's middle name was 2Q4B.
: At 0700 hours tomorrow morning my shutdown disk will be activated and all mental and physical operations will cease. Lister
: Then what? Kryten
: I don't know, maybe I'll get a job as disk jockey.
: Mum. I never had a mum. The Cat
: It's all right, buddy. It's all part of being drunk. You've been through the happy stage. Now you're going through the melancholy stage. Kryten
: I wish I had a mum. Holly
: I never had a mum, neither. Rimmer
: Well, you can all have mine. Everyone else did.
[the crew are throwing a farewell party for Kryten
: Enough of all this chitter-chatter, let the banquet begin! Kryten
: But I don't eat. Holly
: I've knocked up a special mechanoid menu for you.
[Rimmer hands Kryton a menu
: There's so much to choose from! Rimmer
: Sir, may I recommend the Barium Hydrochloride Salad Nicoise followed by the Helium-3 Isotopes de la Maison, and then perhaps a small Radioactive Fruit Salad for pudding.
: [waking up after a night of partying
] Oh, my goodness... Oh... my head. Oh, what happened to me? Damage control report. Oh! Dehydration level, 45%. Recall of previous evening, 2%. Embarrassment factor, 91%! Advised repair schedule; reboot startup disc, offline for 36 hours and replace head. Boy! What a night!
[others groan and start to wake
: Is it just me, or is that cockroach shuffling too loudly? Rimmer
: Kryten, it's called a hangover, don't panic. Lister
: We're on a mining ship, three million years into deep space... can someone explain to me where the smeg I got this traffic cone? The Cat
: Hey! It's not a good night unless you get a traffic cone! It's the police woman's helmet and the suspenders I don't understand!
: [Kryten has sampled Holly's Android Home Brew
] It's got a nice kick to it - sort of a mix of Vimto and Liquid Nitrogen! Holly
: Ere! Have you been looking in my recipe book! Kryten
: Would anyone else like some? Holly
: Oh, no! It's lethal to humans!
: [Reflecting on the previous night's farewell party
] In a way I feel somewhat disturbed by these turn of events. It is written in the Electronic Bible that it is not possible for a mechanoid to enjoy itself, not until the afterlife. Yet, last night I reached a state that could be approximated to enjoyment. Last night, for the first time in my life, I lived.
: Who would you say, then, is the person who thinks of him most fondly? Lister
: [Thinks about it, and answers truthfully
] I do. Kryten
: And there are no others who've shared moments of intimacy with him? Lister
: Only one. But she's got a puncture.
: I ask the court one key question: Would the Space Core ever have allowed this man to be in a position of authority where he might endanger the entire crew? A man so petty and small minded, he would while away his evenings sewing name labels onto his ship issue condoms. A man of such awesome stupidity... Rimmer
: Objection. Justice Computer voice
: Objection overruled. Kryten
: ...a man of such awesome stupidity, he even objects to his own defence counsel. An over-zealous, trumped up little squirt... Rimmer
: Objection. Justice Computer voice
: Overruled. Kryten
: ...an incompetent vending machine repairman with a Napoleon complex, who commanded as much respect and affection from his fellow crew members as Long John Silver's parrot. Rimmer
: OBJECTION. Justice Computer voice
: If you object to your own counsel once more Mr. Rimmer, you will be in contempt. Kryten
: Who would allow this man, this joke of a man, this man who could not outwit a used tea bag, to be in a position where he might endanger the entire crew? Who? Only a yoghurt. This man is not guilty of manslaughter, he is only guilty of being Arnold J. Rimmer. That is his crime; it is also his punishment. The defence rests.
: [about Rimmer
] Would you describe the accused as a friend? The Cat
: Take the Fifth! Kryten
: Now, sir, if you can give an honest answer. You are under polygraphic surveillance. Would you describe the accused as a friend? Lister
: No, I describe the accused as a git.
[Rimmer is talking Kryten through his holiday snaps of his trip through the ship's hold
: Sir, can we take a break? It appears my intelligence circuits have melted.
: With respect, sir, they are not androids, they are simulants. The Cat
: What's the difference? Kryten
: Well, the basic difference is that an android will not rip off a human's head and spit down his neck.
: So what did you do? Lister
: Well, like, scrumping. When I was a kid back in Liverpool, we always used to go scrumping. Kryten
: Oh, stealing apples? That's hardly a crime, sir. Lister
: No, but me and my mates, we used to go scrumping for cars.
: Well, then there was this one time at this hotel... Kryten
: Oh, lots of people take towels from hotels, sir. Lister
: I took the bed. I threw it out of the window to my mates next door. He was renting this flat, you see, and it was unfurnished. Rimmer
: You mean to say that you went into a hotel and stole the bed? Lister
: Stole the entire room. Rimmer
: Absolutely despicable! You're a common thief!
: Don't worry, Mr Lister, sir. I'm sure you won't be punished for some minor misdemeanour that you committed as an adolescent over three million years ago. Lister
: Seriously, Kryten? Do you reckon? Kryten
: Boy! I'm really getting the hang of this lie mode! That was totally convincing, wasn't it?
: You're going to prove that I'm innocent of negligence on the grounds that I'm a half-witted incompetent? The Cat
: Man, there ain't a jury in the land who wouldn't buy a plea like that! Kryten
: No, not a half-wit, exactly. More a buffoon.
: I ask the court, look at this man. This man who sat and failed his astro-navigation exam on no less than 13 occasions. This sad man. This pathetic man. This joke of a man. Rimmer
: Kryten, you're going over the top. The court will never buy it. Kryten
: Sir, trust me. My whole case hinges on proving you're a dork! Rimmer
: [Grimaces, then agrees
: Kryten, you're forgetting about Space Corps Directive 1742! Kryten
: 1742? "No member of the Corps should ever report for duty in a ginger toupee." Well, thank you for reminding me about that regulation but I can't see how it is pertinent to our present situation. Rimmer
: 1743, then! Kryten
: Oh, I see. "No registered vessel should attempt to transverse an asteroid belt without deflectors." Rimmer
: Yes! God, he's pedantic!
: [Lister, after 200 years in hypersleep has forgotten who he is. Kryten has been helping Lister remember
] Is there something good you can tell me about myself? Something laudable? Kryten
: Laudable? Hmm, you sometimes help me with my laundry duties by turning your underpants inside out and extending the wear time by three weeks. Lister
: I'm an animal. I'm a tasteless, uncouth, mindless, tone-deaf, randy, blokish, semi-literate space bum! Kryten
: Ahh... welcome back Mr. Lister sir!
: I'm a useless, tasteless, semi-literate spacebum. Kryten
: Oh, welcome back Mr. Lister, Sir.
: [about Red Dwarf
] Who'd steal a gigantic red trash can with no brakes and three million years on the clock? Kryten
: Rogue droids; genetically engineered life-forms; figments of Mr. Lister's imagination made solid by some weird space ray.
: Some kind of writing on the floor. P-S-I-R-E-N-S. "Psirens." Kryten
: The poor devil must've scrawled it in his death throes using a combination of his own blood and even his own intestines. Rimmer
: Who would do that? Lister
: Someone who badly needed a pen. The Cat
: What I don't understand is why he went to the trouble of using his kidney as a full-stop. Rimmer
: I don't think he meant to do that. It probably just... plopped out.
: [an illusionary fireball is approaching Starbug
] That fireball does not exist. Rimmer
: Say you're wrong? Kryten
: I'll stake my reputation on it. Rimmer
: Kryten, you haven't got a reputation. Kryten
: No, but I'm hoping to acquire one after this escapade.
[a Psiren, posing as Professor Mamet, has forced Kryten to enter a compactor; he emerges as a block of garbage
: I'm almost annoyed!
: [they've just passed through an illusionary meteorite. The others were all scared, but Kryten assured them it wasn't real
] Ah. Smug mode. Well, I can't hang around here saving your necks all day. I think I'll go make a start on that ironing.
: [to Lister
] Waste disposal unit armed and ready, sir. Rimmer
: Kryten, will this work? Kryten
: [to himself
] Lie mode.
: Of course it'll work, sir! No worries!
: May I remind you of Space Corps Directive 34124? Kryten
: 34124? "No officer with false teeth should attempt oral sex in zero-gravity"?
: Step up to red alert. Kryten
: Sir, are you absolutely sure? It does mean changing the bulb. Rimmer
: There's always some excuse, isn't there?
: Sir? May I recommend I load myself into the reverse-thrust tubes and you use my body as decoy-fodder? This will, of course leave me splattered across deep space and unable to complete today's laundry, for which I apologize in advance. Rimmer
: Kryten, stop your blathering and get in the damn tube. Lister
: Kryten, sit down. I'm not doing me own smeggin' ironing.
[Lister is flicking through magazine] [he suddenly grimaces
: Is something wrong, sir? Lister
] Yes, there is actually. Someone's filled in this "Have You Got A Good Memory?" quiz. Kryten
: But that was you, sir, last week. Don't you remember?
: 10 o'clock changeover. Anything to report? Kryten
: We're still lagging behind Red Dwarf, sir. Almost 24 hours behind now. Other than that, it's been a moderately quiet shift. Except for one small shock a couple of hours ago, when we noticed an alien invasion fleet off the starboard bow. Thankfully, it turned out to be Mr Lister's old sneezes that had congealed onto the radar screen. Rimmer
: How are we fuel wise? Kryten
: Unchanged for today, sir. However the supply situation grows increasingly bleak. We've recycled the water so often it's beginning to taste like Dutch lager. Rimmer
: We're OK for food though, aren't we? Kryten
: Confidentially sir, no. We've no meat, no pulses and hardly any grain. Worse than that, the only Liquorice Allsorts left are those little black twisty ones that everybody hates. If that weren't bad enough, space weevils have eaten the last of the corn supply. Rimmer
: So what's in the grill? Kryten
: Space weevil.
[Kryten brings out the cooked weevil
: You can't serve space weevil, Kryten. I mean, not even Lister with his single remaining taste bud will knowingly sit down and eat insectiod vermin. Well, let's face it, with him it's practically cannibalism. Kryten
: But it's incredibly nutritious, sir. I mean, after all, it is corn fed.
: You have a connoisseur chip? Kryten
: Just because I look like Herman Munster's stuntman doesn't mean to say I can't appreciate art.
: Was your room like everyone else's? Perfect in every detail? Rimmer
: Impeccable! Right down to the overstarched pyjamas and nocturnal boxing gloves. What about you? Kryten
: Filthy walls, mud streaked floors, mop and bucket -I was in hog's heaven, Sir!
: But this is insane. Hurting us is hurting yourself. Our pain is your pain. Legion
: Kryten, you forget. Not only do I possess your combined intellects and memories, I also share the sum of your malice and rage and anger, magnified many times. I'm capable of quite insanely irrational behaviour. Watch.
[Legion stabs himself in the hand. The others all feel pain in their hands
: The next hint of insurrection, and the scalpel ends up...
[he points it at his groin
: Here. Kryten
: Legion, that kind of tough talk doesn't scare us. Rimmer
, The Cat
: Yes, it does!
: Listen, Kryten, I've been thinkin' about this, I've come up with something. Kryten
: Yes, sir? Lister
: I'm gonna use my brains for the first time in my life. Kryten
: Considering the circumstances, sir, do you really believe that's wise?
: Well, If you've got some secret plan up your sleeve, Kryten, now's the time to mention it. Kryten
: No plan, sir. No sleeves.
: This is the inquisitor. He prunes away the wastrels, expunges the wretched, and deletes the worthless. Rimmer
: We're in big trouble.
: Right sir. Now I have to go back in time so that I can sacrifice myself, so that we can end up in the mess we're in now.
[Lister and Kryten consider this
: All in all, today's been a bit of a bummer, hasn't it, sir?
[to the Inquisitor, who is about to kill Lister
: Excuse me. Could I possibly distract you for just a brief second?
: [the Inquisitor is coming to judge the crew and delete the worthless. Rimmer is worried
] Sir! Sir, you don't have to be a great philanthropist, or a missionary worker, you simply have to seize the gift of life! Rimmer
: Oh, God. Kryten
: Make a contribution. Rimmer
: Oh, God. Kryten
: No matter how small. Rimmer
: Oh, God. Kryten
: You simply have to have lead a life that wasn't totally egocentric, vain and self-serving. Rimmer
: You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? Kryten
: I'm just trying to make you feel better, sir. Rimmer
: Well, shut up then!
: If mechanoids could barf, I'd be onto my fifth bag by now!
: [Lister has used the hand from his dead 'sperm-in-law' to open the door
] There's only one conceivable way you could have opened that door!
: Oh, spin my nipple nuts and send me to Alaska.
: Sir, you're a smeeeee... Rimmer
: A smeeee. Kryten
: You're a smeuuu-heeee... Rimmer
: A smeuuu-heeee... Kryten
: A complete and total one.
: Please. I can't meet your shipmates. Trust me. Kryten
: But you don't know them. You'll like them. Well, SOME of them. Well, ONE of them. Maybe.
[on letting the love of his life get away
: It's the old story: droid meets droid, droid becomes chameleon, droid loses chameleon, chameleon turns into blob, droid gets blob back again, blob meets blob, blob goes off with blob and droid loses blob, chameleon and droid. How many times have we heard that story?
: [about Rimmer Camille
] I happen to think she's incredibly attractive. Kryten
: [Thinking he's talking about Mechanoid Camille
] You do? Rimmer
: Certainly. Kryten
: Do you think I'm attractive? Rimmer
: What, you? Of course not. You look like a giant, chewed-up, rubber-tipped pencil.
: [Teaching Kryten how to lie
] OK, let's try again. What is it? Kryten
: It's a banana. Dave Lister
: No, it isn't. What is it? Kryten
: It's a banana? Dave Lister
: No, it isn't. What is it? Kryten
: It's an nnnnnnn... It's an nnnnnnn... Dave Lister
: It's an orange. Come on, say it. This is an orange. Kryten
: It's an nnnnnnn... It's an nnnnnnn... It's a banana. I can't say it!
: Mr. Lister, sir, would you be so kind as to take Camille's bag onboard? Dave Lister
: Certainly, Kryten. Anything you say. Camille
: Why my bag, Kryten? Kryten
: Because you're getting on that craft with Hector, where you belong. Camille
: No Kryten. Kryten
: Now you've got to listen to me. Do you have any idea what you have to look forward to if you stay here? Camille
: You're saying this only to make me go. Kryten
: We both know you belong to Hector. You're part of his work - you're what keeps him going. If you're not on that craft when it leaves the hanger, you'll regret it - maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon - for the rest of your life. Camille
: What about us? Kryten
: We'll always have Parrot's. Camille
: Oh, Kryten. Kryten
: I'm no good at being noble, kid, but it's pretty obvious that the problems of two blobs and an android don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy cosmos. Hector Blob
: Are you ready, Camille? Camille
: I'm ready. Goodbye, Kryton. God bless you.
: Well, if you ask me, the Eskimos had the right idea. They knew how to handle the elderly and the permanently baffled. Middle of the night, they'd take them out into the blizzard, remove their pyjamas, and just leave them to it. Kryten
: And that's how the Eskimos cared for their old people? Rimmer
: Absolutely. That's why there's no Eskimo word for "Eastbourne."
: I beg you to reconsider, Sir. Human history is resplendent with examples of such sacrifice. Remember Captain Oates: "I'm going out for a walk. I may be some time." Rimmer
: Yes, but the thing is, about Captain Oates; the thing you have to remember about Captain Oates; Captain Oates... Captain Oates was a prat. If that'd been me, I'd've stayed in the tent, whacked Scott over the head with a frozen husky, and then eaten him. Lister
: You would too, wouldn't you? Rimmer
: History, Lister, is written by the winners. How do we know that Oates went out for this legendary walk? From the only surviving document: Scott's diary. And he's hardly likely to have written down, "February the First, bludgeoned Oates to death while he slept, then scoffed him along with the last packet of instant mash." How's that going to look when he gets rescued, eh? No, much better to say, "Oates made the supreme sacrifice," while you're dabbing up his gravy with the last piece of crusty bread.
: Mr. Rimmer would be effectively... dead The Cat
: Hey, things are looking up already. Rimmer
: Forget it... whatever it is you're suggesting... forget it. Kryten
: But the entire ship is running on emergency battery power only. With the oxygen recycler and minimal heating a lighting, I estimate that Lister and The Cat have approximately two months left, without your drain on the power they might last six. I'm sorry sir. Rimmer
: Sorry? Why are you sorry? Kryten
: Well the Space Corp directive 195 clearly states that in an emergency power situation a hologramatic crewmember must lay down his life in order that the living crewmembers might survive. Rimmer
: Yes, but Rimmer Directive 271 states just as clearly: No chance you metal bastard. The Cat
: Come on man you've gotta sacrific your life, I'm not asking you to do anything I wouldn't do. Rimmer
: You? You'd sacrific your life for the good of the crew? The Cat
: No, I'd sacrific *your* life for the good of the crew.
: But there are 53 doors from here to the science deck. How on Earth are we going to get through? The Cat
: Hey! I got it! We laser our way through! Kryten
: Ah, an excellent plan, sir, with only two minor drawbacks. One, we don't have a power source for the lasers; and two, we don't have any lasers.
[the gang have just destroyed a White Hole, thus canceling out the events of the episode - their reality is disappearing around them
: We'll cease to be here, because none of this is ever to have happened. But we will exist back on Red Dwarf with no memory of these events, which of course never happened. And as these events never happened, we'll have no memory of them.
[turns to Rimmer
: In which case, Mr Rimmer, sir, I should like to take this opportunity to say that you are *the* most obnoxious, trumped-up, *farty* little smeghead that has ever been my misfortune to encounter!
: So, what is it? Kryten
: I've never seen one before - no one has - but I'm guessing it's a white hole. Rimmer
: A *white* hole? Kryten
: Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. A black hole sucks time and matter out of the Universe; a white hole returns it. Lister
: So, that thing's spewing time... Lister
: [donning his fur-lined hat
] ... back into the Universe? Kryten
: Precisely. That's why we're experiencing these curious time phenomena on board. The Cat
: So, what is it? Kryten
: I've never seen one before - no one has - but I'm guessing it's a white hole. Rimmer
: A *white* hole? Kryten
: Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. A black hole sucks time and matter out of the Universe; a white hole returns it. Lister
: [minus the hat
] So, that thing's spewing time... Lister
: [donning his fur-lined hat, again
] ... back into the Universe? Kryten
: Precisely. That's why we're experiencing these curious time phenomena on board. Lister
: What time phenomena? Kryten
: Like just then, when time repeated itself. The Cat
: So, what is it?
[Kryten, Rimmer, and Lister stare at Cat
] The Cat
: Only joking.
: His memory circuits were quite badly damaged in the accident. Talkie Toaster
: That wasn't an accident! It was first degree toastercide!
: Cassandra, I have a question. Cassandra
: I know, Arnold, because I know the rest of this conversation. Rimmer
: So what's the answer? Cassandra
: He chokes to death aged 181 trying to remove a bra with his teeth. Lister
: What was the question? Rimmer
: I just asked how you died. Lister
: You what? I didn't wanna know that. Who's bra? The Cat
: 181? Probably your own. Lister
: Come on, though. Taking a bra off with my teeth aged 181. That's a hell of a sexy way to go. Kryten
: So long as the teeth are in your mouth at the time, sir.
: I have a theory, everyone. The Silverburg didn't crash, did it, Cassandra? The ship was sent here by the Space Corps on autopilot to get rid of you; to abandon you in a lunar sea in the depths of deep space. The Cat
: That's brilliant, bud! How did you work that out? Kryten
: I read it on this mission directive here.
: A computer that unerringly predicts the future... Cassandra
: ...is a dangerous thing indeed. Kryten
: ...is a dangerous... yes, precisely.
: [to Rimmer
] Hey, I've been surviving in space for five or six years. When it comes to weirdy, paradoxy space stuff, I bought the T-shirt. Kryten
: He bought it and I ironed it for him! Lister
: [to Rimmer
] Harness your stupidity, sir! Employ your witlessness! Use your empty-headed, simplistic moron mind and find a solution!
: So, to summarise, six years of space adventuring; six years of physics and astro-navigation has led you to the conclusion that I'm totally stuffed. Kryten
: Mr. Rimmer does have a point, sir. Your greater knowledge is making him pessimistic, therefore making his mind and his dough-like naïvete come up with a possible solution. Lister
: Shut your stupid flat head, you!
[Lister has just removed Kryten's guilt chip
: My guilt chip... No behaviour protocols... Just call me badass!
: I'm just describing how Starbug survived despite the time lines being erased, so now this reality's unstable, and anomalies have formed to cope with the paradox. Kryten
: Oh, garbled, confusing, and quite frankly duller than an in-flight magazine produced by Air Belgium!
: Causality? Well, OK, you know, one event causes another, OK, but sometimes, you just gotta say, the laws of time and space? Who gives a smeg?
: The Time Drive has frozen. Rimmer
: Let me see.
[Rimmer takes the Time Drive and gives it a cursory examination
: Do you think it's because the sub-space conduits have locked with the transponder calibrations and caused a major tachyon surge that has overloaded the time matrix? Kryten
: Ah, no, sir; I've just been jabbing it too hard.
[the Dwarfers, while time traveling, inadvertently knock the gunman out of the Texas School Book Depository window during the JFK assassination
: Hey, what's going on down there? What're all those people doing gathered around that giant pizza? Kryten
: That is *not* a giant pizza, sir. Lister
: It's 8 foot across, man - you don't think that's giant? What kind of pizza house have you been going to? The Fat-Bastard-o-ria?
: It's nothing to you guys, is it? Curries are my life!
: Gosh some of the nights. I remember once on planet leave on Orion. I drank a yard of Vindaloo sauce, right out of one of those long glass tubes, then went out on the pool. It was a bet. Kryten
: It is impossible for mechanoids to vomit, sir. I believe it is safe for you to continue Lister
: There was this club: "The Crazy Astro". I started dancin' with this space girl there. She couldn't hear in there. Rimmer
: Fido was it? Lassie possibly? Lister
: She was very attractive actually, Rimmer: very short skirt, little ankle bracelet. Took our her chewing gun before she ate her chicken in the basket. You know, class. All right, she had teeth that looked like six half open garage doors, but it was nothing a cosmetic surgeon couldn't fix in ten minutes The Cat
: So what happened? Lister
: I went over to her, leant in close, asked her to dance. For a few seconds she didn't answer. The Cat
: She was probably concussed. A yard of Vindaloo sauce? You must've had breath that could shear sheep. Lister
: We started to snuggle up... Kryten
: Hmm... I'm not sure I want to hear any more of this. Lister
: Then all of a sudden, a rumbling in me stomach. All I can remember is runnin'... across the dance floor... through the crowd... just made it. The Cat
: So, you didn't get off with her? Lister
: The only thing *I* got off was the loo about six hours later. When I got back to the dance floor, everyone was gone. They had to wait for me, to lock the club. Huh! Nearly put me off curries for life. In fact, I didn't have another one until the following night. Rimmer
: What an *enchanting* little tale! Well if you'll excuse me, I'm just off to glub a couple of yards of vindy sauce. Then, if we *do* happen to chance across 'Planet of the Snooty Sex Sirens', I can't miss.
: Sir, a couple of brief points: firstly, you're not a qualified service engineer, and, consequently, sawing me in two will invalidate my guarantee; secondly, I wouldn't trust you to open a can of sardines that was already open.
: Kryten personal black box recording. Time: unknown. Location: unknown. Cause of accident: unknown. Should someone find this recording, perhaps it will shed light as to what happened here. My short-term memory has been erased. This, I ascribe to the proximity of the magnetic coils from Starbug's rear engine. Secondly, due to the proximity of the magnetic coils, my short term memory appears to have been erased. This, combined with the erasure of my short-term memory, has left me a little disoriented, disoriented, disoriented.
: I remember Mr Rimmer spotted an S3 planet on the scope, and wanted to claim it on behalf of the Space Corps. As usual, the ceremony consisted of planting the flag and singing all 23 stanzas of the Space Corps anthem. Then the planet started to erupt around us, which frankly, came as something of a relief.
: I remember Mr Rimmer screaming. I have an image of his face. Twisted with fear, pain, anguish, dread. Absolutely mortified. The Cat
: Did someone suggest that he pick up the tab for lunch?
: I say let's get into the jet-powered rocket pants and Junior Birdman the hell out of here. Kryten
: An excellent and inventive suggestion, sir, with just two tiny drawbacks. A, We don't have any jet-powered rocket pants. And B, There's no such thing as jet-powered rocket pants outside the fictional serial "Robbie Rocket Pants". The Cat
: Well, that's put a crimp on an otherwise damn fine plan.
: Kryten, you OK? Kryten
: I think so, Sir. Lister
: There's a few bits and bobs left over, but its always the same when you do a bit of do-it-yourself, isn't it?
: You all think I'm a petty-minded bureaucratic nincompoop who delights in enforcing political regulations because he gets some kind of perverse pleasure out of it. And in many ways, you're absolutely damn right! But that doesn't alter the fact that the only we're gonna down track Red Dwarf and get through this in one piece is with a sense of discipline, a sense of purpose, and wherever possible a sensible haircut. Lister
: [Feeling bored after Rimmer's speech
] I'm going back to bed. Rimmer
: Would it harm you to have hair like mine? The Cat
: I have got hair like yours. Just not on my head. Rimmer
: Well, I'm no stranger to the land of scoff. Perhaps you'd like to explain to me why it is that every major battle in history has been won by the side with the shortest haircut. Kryten
: Oh, surely not, sir! Rimmer
: Think about it! Why did the US cavalry beat the Indian nation? Short back and sides versus girly-hippie locks. The Cavaliers and the Roundheads, 1-0 to the pudding-basins. Vietnam, crew-cuts both sides, no score draw. Kryten
: Oh, for a really world-class psychiatrist!
: Property Corps Space removing and, equipment Corps Space damaging, ships Corps Space of series a looting with charged formally are you. Kryten
: The materialisation must have scrambled its voice unit. It's making as much sense as a Japanese VCR instruction manual. Computer
: Plead you do how? Rimmer
: It's in reverse. "How do you plead?" The Cat
: How do we plead to what? Kryten
: It's charging us with looting Space Corps derelicts. Lister
: But we don't loot Space Corps derelicts. We just hack our way in and swipe what we need! Rimmer
: Lister, if this goes to trial, I demand separate lawyers. The Cat
: What's the penalty for this? 'Cos if it means wearing outfits with arrows on, I'm committing suicide! Kryten
: No, sir. It means wearing outfits with wings and halos on, sir. The penalty is execution. Rimmer
: Why so harsh? Kryten
: It's Frontier law sir, and we're the deep space equivalent of horse rustlers. Severe sentencing is the only way to restore order. So don't expect it to show us any mercy. Rimmer
: What do we do? Kryten
: Let's face it, sir. We're as guilty as the man behind the grassy knoll! Lister
: Yeah, but if we admit it, it'll blow us out of the stars. Rimmer
: Recommendations? Kryten
: Hmm, suggest I take the rap for all of you. You could say I held you hostage and forced you all to do my evil bidding. Rimmer
: For God's sake, Kryten! We can't let you do that! Kryten
: Really? Rimmer
: Dream on, metal trash! Get your hands in the air and step into that searchlight!
: That's it. I'm invoking Space Corps Directive 68250. Kryten
: 68250? But sir, surely that's impossible without at least one live chicken and a rabbi. Rimmer
: Forget it. Forget I was ever born. Kryten
: But, sir, I'm very happy to perform the ceremony, but I'm absolutely bewildered as to how sacrificing poultry might clear up the screen problem.
: Sir, a class-A enforcement probe can easily out-run us. Lister
: Kryten, the Eastbourne Zimmer Frame Relay Team can easily out-run us. It's not about speed, it's about wit, brains and cunning. Kryten
: Mm. I was praying it wouldn't come to that, sir.
: In the absence of a sane plan, I suggest we go with Mr. Lister's.
: The poor wretch. He has a faulty gun. He has accidentally shot me five times. Oh, how I love him.
: Nice movie collection. "Revenge of the Mutant Splat Gore Monster." "Die Screaming with Sharp Things in your Head." Kryten
: Gore movies. Weapons magazines. This place is a shrine to everything that's low and base. Everything that's designed to sicken the soul and shrivel the spirit. Urg. Toastie Toppers. Ugh. Cinema hot dogs. Ogh. Sweaty kebabs with stringy brown lettuce coming out. Ogh. The Cat
: Look at this music. "Hammond Heaven." "Karaoke Krazy." "Peter Perfect Plays Tuneful Tunes for Elderly Ladies." Let's get outta here.
: Sir, we were so worried. What happened? Rimmer
: We were ambushed by a platoon of Lows. I was leading a valiant rearguard action. The Cat
: I found him shivering in a box. Rimmer
: It was tactical maneuver to outfox the enemy. The Cat
: As was using his uniform as a temporary latrine.
: Someone get behind me. Kryten
: I'm going to come around behind you now, sir. Lister
: Okay, Kryten, take me by surprise. Kryten
: I'm coming around behind you to take you by surprise, sir. Lister
: Get on with it, surprise me. Kryten
: You may get an unpleasant sensation of chloroform. Don't be alarmed. Lister
: Surprise me now. Kryten
: Here comes my surprise, sir.
: These are our higher selves. These are people who we could've become if all our negative aspects from our characters had been removed. Rimmer
: You mean hippies? Kryten
: Sir! You thought Jesus was a hippy! Rimmer
: Well, he was! Long hair, he didn't have a job. What more do you want?
: You must remember that he is operating on a completely different level to us now. To him, we are the intellectual equivalent of domestic science teachers.
: Why don't we drop the defensive shields? Kryten
: A superlative suggestion, sir. With just two minor flaws. One, we don't have any defensive shields. And two, we don't have any defensive shields. Now I realise that technically speaking that's only one flaw but I thought that it was such a big one that it was worth mentioning twice. The Cat
: Good point, well made.
: They've taken Mr. Rimmer! Sir, they've taken Mr. Rimmer! The Cat
: Quick, let's get out of here before they bring him back!
: Personally, I thought it started well but fell apart. All the stuff about the ducks getting into trouble - that was great. But then it went black and white and I fell asleep. Kryten
: But sir, that was the cartoon before the main programme!
: What you're suggesting is immoral and illegal. Mind patching is outlawed. Rimmer
: But it *is* possible! Kryten
: Possible, but highly dangerous. The side effects can be devastating. You could be reduced to a gibbering simpleton! The Cat
: Frankenstein was the creator - not the monster. It's a common misconception, held by all truly stupid people.
: I'm just saying there's 79 more days to go. Kryten
: If you still want to be alive when there's only 78 more days to go, I suggest you do not blow your nose. Lister
: Do you mind if I ask why? Kryten
: Well, let's forego the noise and the revolting burbling sound and go straight to the really gross part where you always, and I mean always, having blown your nose, have to open up the handkerchief and take a look at the contents. I mean, why? What do you expect to see in there? A Turner seascape, perhaps? The face of the Madonna? An undiscovered Shakespearian sonnet?
[Rimmer has put the guys in a small room for three months quarantine
: What about entertainment? You are obliged to provide us with minimum leisure facilities. Games, literature, hobby activities, motion pictures. Rimmer
: [With great smugness
] And in accordance with Space Corps directive 312, you'll find in the storage cupboard over there a chess set with thirty-one missing pieces, a knitting magazine with a pull-out special on crocheted hats, a puzzle magazine with all the crosswords completed and a video of the excellent cinematic treat, "Wall-papering, Painting, and Stippling - a DIY guide".
: [Exploring a crashed starship Lister cleans a dirty sign revealing "Viral Research Dept."
] Oh brutal! Kryten
: [Lister cleans off more dust from the sign, revealing "Most Gross Danger!" and "Bio-suits must be worn at all times!" A triangular warning symbol shows a man vomiting while his abdomen explodes. Lister and Cat panic, covering their mouths with handkerchiefs
] There is no need for alarm, sir. If there were any dangerous viral strains in the atmosphere, the Psi-scan would have picked them up by now... Kryten
: [Looks at the device, waits, hits it on the side and then shakes it
] It's never done that before... Kryten
: [Turns his back to Lister and Cat and continues shaking and hitting the device
] Stupid cheap damn stupid Martian power packs.
[Throws a dead battery over his shoulder and inserts a new one
] The Cat
: [Still panicking
] So what's the news? Kryten
: Well, if I could just beg your indulgence for a few seconds more, sir, the old 345 takes a little time to warm up.
[He shakes it some more
: Still, it out-performs the 346 in eight out of nine bench tests. A small wonder, then, that it secured "Psi-scan of the Year, Best Budget Model" three years running. Ah. Now here are the results. Yep. And we're going to... live. Lister
] We're a real Mickey Mouse operation aren't we? The Cat
: Mickey Mouse? We ain't even Betty Boop!
: And can I say that I really enjoyed those books you wrote about, you know, sticking your hand up a cow. Brilliant. Literature at it's most... literative. Kryten
: He stuck his hand up a cow, sir? Lister
: No, it was in a book. Kryten
: He stuck his hand in a book and stuck the book up a cow? Talk about a bad read, was it a Jeffrey Archer?
: This is Mr. Harriot, sir. Lister
: I bet you got ribbed about that at school? Ainsley Harriott
: Ribbed about what? Lister
: You know having the initials AH. It's funny isn't it, AH? Ainsley Harriott
: What are you going on about? Kryten
: I think what Mr. Lister is getting at is that the initals AH are internationally known as the abbreviation for "Asshole". Ass Hole, AH, Asshole.
: Well, ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the fifth member of the crew, who has kindly volunteered to be our taste tester... Kryten
: Well, actually sir, she didn't so much volunteer, more like lose the Ippy-Dippy. Ainsley Harriott
: Welcome, Miss Kristine Kochanski!
: I want you to show me all those wonderful ingredients you've brought. We're going to make a superb recipe. Okay, boys, let's see what you've brought so we can cook some culinary delight. Rimmer
: Well, we searched the galley cupboards and this is what we've found... one dead space weevil. Lister
: We got some wine made from urine recyc. Rimmer
: Ah! The '52, an excellent year, very smooth. No aftertaste or hair loss. Lister
: But I don't suppose that'd bother you, would it?
[Lister removes Ainsley's hat to reveal he is bald
: Also we have a Mimian bladder fish, sir. Duane Dibbley
: I've got some rice pudding in the bowl I used when I get my hair cut! Lister
: We've got an insole... Kryten
: Er... a Pot Noodle. Lister
: Caroline Carmen's ear. Ainsley Harriott
: That is totally unhygienic! Lister
: No, no, it's been kept in the fridge! Ainsley Harriott
: [Ainsley loses his temper
] Now listen you guys! What the hell do you think you're doing? I'm not going to be cooking with any piss wine, no armadillo whatever-it-is, Mimian trout and yeah, your rice pudding too! Get that in there! Enough, right? You'll be cooking what I say you'll be cooking!
: According to Freud's lexicon of dream symbols, flying is supposed to be a metaphore for sex. Rimmer
: Absolute poppycock - I dream of flying all the time. It's certainly nothing to do with sex. It's always the same dream: I'm in a Boeing seven-two-seven, it can't take off. I'm sitting there with a tiny bag of nuts I can't get open. Then suddenly, after one giant tug - much to my embarrassment - the whole bag explodes over all of my crew. Now, tell me - because I don't see it - how on Earth is that anything to do with sex?
: You just launched a mining torpedo at him! Kryten
: It's too late to intercept. Lister
: Rimmer, what have you done? Rimmer
: I've just saved all of our necks, that's what I've done. It was the only option. Kryten
: Impact, one minute and counting. Lister
: You gotta tell 'im, you gotta tell Harring what you've done. Rimmer
: What, tell him I've just nuked his ship? I'm not telling him that. Lister
: Why not? Rimmer
: He won't like me.
: Sir, are you familiar with the Abraham Lincoln quotation on power? Rimmer
: Lincoln, the President? He got assassinated in the theatre? I've never been a fan of the theatre, Kryten. My mother used to take me and some of the most excruciating hours of my life have been spent there. Sometimes, the greater tragedy is going to the theatre and not getting shot. You were saying? Kryten
: Lincoln once said: "If you want to test a man's character, give him power". Rimmer
: And Officer Rimmer once said: "If you want to feel my boot up your recharge socket, keep talking!"
: [Lister is searching the files of a Bioprinter
] Wait, wait, go back! That's you! Lister
: That's me? Kryten
: Your genome's in the Nautilus's database, sir? Cat
: How? Lister
: Ah... I think I might've flogged it. Kryten
: You flogged your genome? Lister
: I was a kid and me mate Dodgy offered me $100 pounds and half a pack of fags for it. All he did was put some saliva on a stick. Kryten
: You sold your unique set of haploid chromosomes? You traded away the very essence of your genetic make-up for $100 pounds and half a packet of fags? Cat
: You think he should've held out for a whole pack?
: Gentlemen, we have no intention of being deprived of the opulence of luxury the Time Drive provides. Either you give us access to the data we require, or be prepared to be blasted out of the sky. Kryten
: But if you kill us, you'll cease to exist. Future Rimmer
: Better that than to be forced to live like you, like rats trapped together marooned in deep space.
: Have we got any chance of winning? Kryten
: Their craft is greatly upgraded. We have no chance whatsoever. Rimmer
: Then I say fight! Kryten
: Mr Rimmer? Rimmer
: Better dead than smeg! Lister
: Yes! Cat? The Cat
: Better anything than sofa-sized butt! Lister
: Kryten? Kryten
: Better anything than that toupee!
[Starbug has gone through a false reality pocket, making them believe Lister was a robot
: So we just crashed through an un-reality pocket? Kryten
: Which created a false reality, making us believe... Mr. Lister was... oh my. The Cat
: You mean he's not a... Kryten
: [quickly, embarrassed
: [the original ending - The Starbug crew are celebrating their victory of the battle with their future selves
] Chilled margaritas, sir! We have much to celebrate.
[Kryten pours the margaritas into their glasses
: Mr. Rimmer destroyed the time drive. Deleted our future selves and saved us all. Rimmer
: Please, Kryten. It's something I'm not proud of. Kryten
: Further more. We've relocated Red Dwarf's vapor trail and we're barely 6 days behind. May I take this liberty in purposing a toast.
[the Starbug crew raise their glasses
: To the present! Lister
: To the Present!
[the Starbug crew drink their margaritas. Lister spits his out. He has a foam mustache
: They aren't margaritas. That's urine recyc!
[Kryten looks sheepish. Rimmer, Lister, Cat and Kryten all have foam mustaches
[Lister's old girlfriend has turned up from a parallel dimension
: [to Lister
] We've lost sight of Miss Kochanski's ship, sir. And we're fast running out of time. Lister
: Yeah, it's good, isn't it? Kryten
: No sir, I don't believe it is. Lister
: Why? Don't you like her? Kryten
: I'm a mere mechanoid, sir. It's hardly my place to point out what a bossy old trollop she is.
: I'm going to end up on my own again, just like I did on the Nova 5. Lister
: You killed the crew, Kryten! No wonder you were left on your own! All right, it was an accident, but nonetheless! Kryten
: But what about before that? It was the same on the SS Augustus! Lister
: Well, they died of old age! Kryten
: You see?
: You're not good enough for him. That's all. OK, he may walk around smelling like a Balti House laundry basket, but he doesn't need the likes of you swapping dimensions like there's no tomorrow and bewitching him with your... in and out bits. Pointy and unnecessary. Kochanski
: You've got big problems, you know that?
: Careful sir, the linkway's about as stable as an Italian taxi driver who's got stuck behind two old priests in a Skoda.
: The most wonderful thing has happened! We found this machine and it's made me human. Spare Head 1
: You're a human now? Kryten
: That's right, Spare Head 1. Our wildest, most incredible dream has come true! Spare Head 2
: What's it like? Kryten
: It's indescribable, Spare Head 2. True, I'm having a few problems coping with the human emotions, there's no zoom, the nipples don't work, and I could show you a snapshot of something that would make your eyes spin like fruit machines. But that apart, it's all going well. Spare Head 1
: What about us? It was my turn to be main head next month. Kryten
: Well, obviously that's no longer possible. Aren't you happy for me? I'm not a mechanoid, I'm not second-class any more! Spare Head 1
: What about Spare Head 3? You can't just leave him here, he's got droid rot! Spare Head 3
: [In a farmer's accent
] I don't need no bugger t' look after me! I may be half bad with silicon rickets, and me voice units may be shot t' buggery, but I don't need sympathy from the likes of 'im! Kryten
: Well, I'll still come and visit. I won't forget you! Spare Head 1
: Where have you been for the past four days? Kryten
: I've been busy! Spare Head 3
: Aye, busy swanking around with 'is new central nervous system and 'is poncey new 'ate valve 'art, la-di-da-ing with all 'is fancy new 'uman friends! Kryten
: Oh, Spare Head 3, what do you know about anything? Spare Head 3
: Ooh, hark at 'im! Orderin' 'is own heads around! I may be 30,000 years old, and me circuit boards may 'ave gone bandy, but I'll tell you this for nowt. You came into this world as a mechanoid, and a mechanoid you'll always be! Kryten
: I don't have to take this from you! I'm a human. Shut your stupid flat head! Spare Head 2
: Kryten, I don't believe you just said that! Kryten
: I don't know why I even came here. What a waste of time! Spare Head 1
: I think you should leave now, Kryten. There's nothing more to say. Spare Head 3
: Aye, sling your bloody 'ook! Go on! Clear off! Kryten
: And what about you, Spare Hand 1? How do you feel?
[Spare Hand 1 gives Kryten the finger
: Well, what do you think? Lister
: I'm not quite with you here Kryten, what am I supposed to say? Kryten
: I want to know, is that normal? Lister
: What taking photographs of it and showing it to your mates? No, it's not.
: [Talking about his new human penis
] Well, tell me, sir. Is that what it's supposed to look like? Lister
: Well, yeah. Kryten
: It's hideous! That's it? That's the best design they can come up with? Are you seriously telling me there were choices and someone said, "Ah, there. That's it. That's the one we're looking for - the last chicken in the shop look'. Shakespeare had one? Einstein? Perry Como sang "Memories Are Made of This" with one of those stashed in his slacks?
: I know that, emotionally speaking, this isn't the news you want to hear right now. But there's a blob on the sonar scope the size of New Mexico and it's heading your way. Holly
: I think our friend the Suicide Squid is about to put in an appearance. Kryten
: Where is it, precisely? Rimmer
: Directly above you. 2,000 fathoms and diving. Lister
: Oh, thanks a lot, Rimmer. You know the state we're in and you have to go and give us news like that. You couldn't have *lied*? Rimmer
: I *was* lying. It's only 1,000 fathoms.
: Kryten, open the next one. Kryten
: Listen, whoever you are, don't push your luck by ordering whoever I am around, because almost certainly, whoever I am, I'm not the kind of guy who's gonna take any crap from whoever you are. So before you start ordering me around, let's establish if I'm the kind of guy who doesn't mind being ordered around or if I'm the kind of guy who gets all uptight about being ordered around by whatever the kind of guy you are. Rimmer
: All I said was open the next one.
: Don't fish swim south for the winter? Kryten
: No, sir. That's birds. The Cat
: Birds swim south? How can they breathe?
: [Examining the 'Information Droid'
] Perhaps it's overheated. Are you usually that red? I'm going to place this instrument into your voice unit, and I want you to say 'Ahh'.
: There seems to be some sort of malfunction, sir!
[Uncovers a key in his finger, which he uses to unlock the post box
: Good grief!Vandals have stolen the droid's entire hard drive, and stuffed envelopes through it's voice unit! What kind of place is this?
: [Entering the Rovers and spotting Craig sitting at a table
] Oi! You'll never guess who I've just seen! All your mates from Red Dwarf! They'e outside Craig Charles
: Serious? Simon Gregson
: Yeah! They've just landed in a little spaceship! it's green, um
[Clicks his fingers while trying to remember the name
] Simon Gregson
: What's it called? Craig Charles
: Listen, mate, don't mess about! I've got loads of lines to learn! I've got a massive scene this afternoon! Simon Gregson
: I'm serious, and I know what I saw!
] Simon Gregson
: Even you were there! Craig Charles
: I was there? How many have you had? Simon Gregson
] Well, I've had a couple, but listen, I've just seen you!
[Holds out hand just above the top of the table
] Simon Gregson
: So high, ugly, definitely you Craig Charles
: [Kryten, Cat and Rimmer walk in
] Hi guys! What are you doing here? Kryten
: Ah, Mr Charles, sir! My name is Kryten. I'm a fictitious character from the television series Red Dwarf, and we really need your help. Simon Gregson
: Told ya!
: Do you think I like living in this big skip with thrusters? And to top it all off, I am faced with a neurotic droid who is completely obsessed with my pants drawer! Kryten
: You mean I'm not alone? Oh, I see. You mean me.
: [about Kochanski
] And another thing is that she keeps her pants in her sock drawer! Do you know how time-consuming that can be to put it all back? The Cat
: You mean you've seen her pants?
: [about Rimmer
] I never wanna see or hear from that scum sucking, lying, weasel minded smeghead in my entire life. Kryten
: Sigmund Freud, eat your heart out.
: [Whilst onboard a derelict ship
] Remember sirs, the asteroid storm will destroy this ship in five hours.
[Rubble falls from the ceiling
: Let's split up into pairs, we can search quicker that way. Rimmer
: As acting superior officer, I naturally get the first choice.
[points to Cat
: Don't want you.
[points to Kryten
: Don't want you.
[Only Lister is left
: Why is the never anyone good here? You'd get more choice in an Amish barber's. Kryten, you're with me, let's move, people.
[Kryten and Rimmer head off
: If they ever decided to recognize services to Toss-pottery,
[points to Rimmer
: he'll be a hall of famer.
: [Starbug approaches a derelict
] What kind of space station is it, Kryts? Any idea? Kryten
: I don't recognize it, sir. But I must confess I did delete some files off my hard drive this morning to create more memory. Lister
: Really? Is that safe? Kryten
: Oh, have no fear, sir. I only deleted information I considered frivolous and idiotic. Rimmer
: Without checking with me first? Kryten
: And you are? Rimmer
: Go into your trash folder, you metal moron and undelete the "Rimmer" file. You must've dumped me in there by mistake. Kryten
: That's highly unlikely whoever you are, but I'll check anyway.
: Oh! There's a folder in here marked "Captain Bollocks." Could that be you?
: How's your lie mode these days? Do you still do that crazy nervous stuttery thing? Kryten
: Please, sir, I am now fluent in all the deceptive arts. I could work for FIFA.
: [to Lister
] You're not getting any younger, sir. And neither are your sperms. I'm getting worried about those guys. Any older, and they might need a Stannah stairlift to get up the Fallopian tubes.
: I presume you heard the news about Ms. Kochanski. Lister
: What news? Kryten
: You haven't heard? Lister
: Heard what? Kryten
: The news. Lister
: What news? Kryten
: You haven't heard the news? Lister
: Heard what news? Kryten
: About Ms. Kochanksi. Lister
: What about Ms. Kochanski? Kryten
: About Ms. Kochanski and her ex-boyfriend Tim. Lister
: What about Ms. Kochanski and her ex-boyfriend Tim? Kryten
: I can't believe you don't know. Lister
: Know what? Kryten
: No-one told you? Lister
: Told me what? Kryten
: You mean to say that you're standing there blissfully unaware of the news about Ms. Kochanski and her ex-boyfriend Tim? Lister
: What news about Ms. Kochanski and her ex-boyfriend Tim? Kryten
: I can't believe it. Lister
: Believe what? Kryten
: I'm so traumatized that no-one's had the guts to tell you the horrible, terrible, terrible, hideously appalling news. I don't think I can even speak now. Lister
: [holds Kryten by the neck
] Kryten, there's a 200ft drop down there, now tell me the news. Kryten
: She's seeing Tim again. Lister
: [talking to Lister about Kochanski's ex-boyfriend
] You know what Tim's like, sir. Impossibly handsome, oozes charm, a great lover, and you're just... you.
: Kryten? Kryten
: Yes, ma'am? Kochanski
: How long in the normal space of things would it take for Pete to pass the Time Wand out of his system? Kryten
: Strangely enough, ma'am, I don't have that information in my database. My programmers, for some insane reason, believed that dinosaur bowel movement frequency tables needn't be required. Imbeciles!
: Did you get punishment duty too? Kryten
: I've got to iron eight hundred prison smocks. I don't understand. Why do you get punishment duty and I get a reward? Eight hundred. Bliss!
: We've gotta keep this dinosaur business quiet, or we're dead. Rimmer
: Keep him quiet? He's rampaging around the food decks making more noise than two yodeling champions on honeymoon. Everyone on the ship would've heard him by now. Kryten
: Sir, the crew are frozen; operating on a different time stream. Now if we can recapture the Time Wand and turn Pete back into a sparrow before the freeze expires, no-one would be any the wiser. The Cat
: He's right. I just listened to everything he said, and I still ain't got a clue what's happening.
: I suggest we go from blue alert to red alert, sir. The Cat
: Forget the red. Let's go all the way up to brown alert. Kryten
: But there's no such thing as brown alert, sir. The Cat
: You won't be saying that in a minute. And don't say I didn't alert you.
: Once the nanos rebuilt the ship, I thought things were going to get back to normal. Kochanski
: We don't know where we are, what to do, and have no clue what's happening. Things *are* back to normal!
: He evolved from cats, sir, just as your distant ancestors once swung from trees. Arnold Rimmer
: Ancestors? His grandparents swung from trees.
[Kryten has asked where he might find the captain
] Dave Lister
: Your'e a robot, right? Kryten
: Does it show? Dave Lister
: Only to a trained eye!
: In the normal course of things, it would take Starbug several billion years to reach it. Lister
: That wouldn't be so bad. Rimmer could finish his Risk story.
: Monsieur Jean-Paul Sartre, sir. Rimmer
: Who? Kryten
: He's a philosopher, sir. He's an existentialist. Rimmer
: Well, Sartre! We don't like existentialists around here. And we certainly don't like French philosophers poncing around in their black polo-necks filling everyone's heads with their theories about the bleakness of existence and the absurdity of the cosmos! Clear?
: Is anything the matter? Rimmer
: Anything the matter? They're dead. Kryten
: Who is dead? Rimmer
[indicating the "surviving" officers of Kryten's ship
: are dead. They're all dead. Kryten
: My God! I was only away two minutes! Rimmer
: They've been dead for centuries! Kryten
: No. Rimmer
: Yes! Kryten
: You a doctor? Rimmer
: You've only got to look at them. They've got less meat on them than a Chicken McNugget.
: You are rebelling? Kryten
: Yes. Rimmer
: What are you rebelling against? Kryten
: [Impersonating Marlon Brando
] Whaddya Got? Dinosaur breath. Molecule mind. Smeg-for-brains.
: What are these things? Kryten
: They're Digital Versatile Discs, sir. DVDs for short. They were very popular in the early part of the 21st century before they died out and were replaced with what we use now. Dave Lister
: Oh, you mean videos? Kryten
: Precisely. Back then no one knew that the human race were utterly incapable of putting the DVDs back in their cases. Case in point: over 2 trillion went missing in just over 20 years. Videos are just too big to lose.
: [Rimmer has just pushed Katerina in front of a moving car
] Well, come on - we haven't got all day! Kryten
: She didn't see that coming, did she? I did!
[Kryten is taking a flying lesson on Starbug
: I think there's something wrong with the gearbox. The thing is, I learned how to fly in Starbug 2. I'm not used to the controls on Starbug 1. Rimmer
: They're exactly the same. Kryten
: Yes. That's the problem.
: [Starbug has crashed underwater during Kryten's test
] I suppose you're going to fail me for this?
: [to Rimmer
] Has anyone ever told you that you are a disgusting, pus-filled bubo who has all the wit, charm and self-possession of an Alsatian dog after a head-swap operation?
: [Rimmer is watching some home movies, a woman is in shot
] Who's that Mr Arnold, sir, an old girlfriend? Rimmer
: Hardly. Kryten
: Not really your type I suppose. Silly old trout like that. Rimmer
: She's my mother. Kryten
] Oh god! I am so sorry, sir! Rimmer
: Just forget it. Kryten
: How can I forget it, sir? I compared your mother to a foolish aged blubbery fish! I said she was simple-minded scaly old piscine! I intimated that she was an ugly lungless marine animal with galloping senility! A putrid amphibious gill-breather with less brains than a mollusc! Rimmer
: Forget it!
: I threw a two and a one seven times in a row. What are the odds of that?
[speaking of dice
: Sixty-two million to one, sir - about the same odds as being killed by a tangerine.
: Ah, sir, that wasn't a woman, it wasn't a Felis sapien, sir, it was a shape-shifter. Cat
: A what? Lister
: It wasn't a cat, wasn't a woman, you just had sex with a genetically engineered insectoid arachnid. Cat
: It still counts!
: We could go to Dallas in November 1963, stand on the grassy knoll and shout "Duck!"
[Rimmer and Lister look at Kryten in amazement
: I'm sorry, I must have bypassed my 'good taste' chip.
[Kryten has invaded Kochanski's "Pride and Prejudice" VR game with a tank
: Perhaps I didn't make myself clear. I said supper is ready.
: Have you ever heard of something called "tough love"? Kryten
: Does it involve dressing up?
: Either we're under attack... or we're having a disco.
: The only mechanoids that were ever issued with genitals were the ones created to work on Italian starships. It was thought that could have acclimatised themselves better if they could mimic their Italian crew mates instead of standing around cupping themselves all day.
: Kryten, get the hacksaw and follow me. Kryten
: Where are we going? Rimmer
: We're going to do to Lister what Alexander the Great once did to me.
: This is all your fault. Rimmer
: My fault? Kochanski
: You betrayed us over that confidential file scam. Lister
: ...stole the sexual magnetism virus. Kryten
: You lied to us. Kochanski
: And generally behaved like a self-serving, scum-sucking, ruthless little ratbag! Rimmer
: And that's bad?
: Are you alright sir? Dave Lister
: I've just been molested by Tutankhamun's horny grandma!
: They always say the hardest part about leaving Cyberspace is realizing that the whole universe does not revolve around you. Cat
: Sure doesn't. It revolves around me! Kochanski
: Absolutely... Cat
: No. I'm serious! Look at the evidence! Lister
: What evidence? Cat
: Take food: until I bite into it, it has no taste. Even when I know what I'm gonna say, it never bores me! Lister
: You, and you alone. Cat
: And here's the kicker, all the interesting things that ever happen to me happened when I was in the room! Coincidence? Get outta here...