Rimmer: Dear lord, what has created such foulness? Is it the product of a marriage twixt woman and gerbil?
[Rimmer's in deep trouble]
The Cat: You know, there's an old cat saying. But you don't wanna hear it right now.
Rimmer: Kryten, kindly get to the point before I jam your nose between your cheeks and make it the filling of a buttock sandwich.
Rimmer: 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.
The Cat: There's an old cat saying: "If you're gonna eat tuna, expect bones."
Rimmer: There's an old human saying: "If you're gonna talk garbage, expect pain."
Rimmer: 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]
Kryten: Please, sir, don't panic.
Rimmer: It's not panic, it's a full blown hysterical fit.
Kryten: Grind those balls, sir. Grind them!
The Cat: [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.
Rimmer: [on facing imminent destruction of Starbug] There's less choice than a Welsh fish and chip shop.
Lister: 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.
The Cat: [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?
Rimmer: So let me get this straight. If we board that ship and we get captured, we're finished. However, if we board that ship, don't get captured but the superstructure disintegrates around us, we are finished. On the other hand, if we board that ship, don't get captured, and the superstructure doesn't disintegrate around us, but we can't find any fuel, we are in fact finished.
Kryten: [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!
Kryten: 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.
Lister: [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: [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?
Rimmer: Enough of this heresy. At the stroke of dawn take them out and kill them. And when you've killed them burn the bodies, then bring me the cold ashes on a silver plate with a glass of chilled sancerre.
The Cat: This guy's an animal. Doesn't he know it's red wine with cold ashes.