The Cat: I'm so gorgeous, that there's a six-month waiting list for birds to suddenly appear whenever I am near.
Rimmer: Maybe you haven't noticed this, but we're gonna be spending the next two years in the Brig. Two years with the scum of the universe; hardened criminals; deranged droids. People so unbalanced and debauched they couldn't even get elected as President of the United States.
First Ground Controller: This is Ground Control to Midget Three. You don't appear to have flight clearance. Please state your name and clearance code.
The Cat: Ground Control, this is... uh...
Lister: [whispers] Major Tom.
The Cat: ...Major Tom.
MP Thornton: No-one's allowed in there, Rimmer. Beat it.
Rimmer: Angus Thornton. Age 36. Middle name : Lionel. Inside leg measurement 29, neck size 16. Circumsised.
MP Thornton: How d'you know all this?!
Rimmer: Jazz fan. Good credit rating. Once admitted to hospital totally naked and attached to...
[Rimmer leans towards Thornton and whispers...]
Rimmer: ...the suction end of a vacuum cleaner.
MP Thornton: This is slanderous. Filthy, stinking, slanderous slime that you just made up! Who told you?
Rimmer: Want all the crew to know? Take a cigarette break. Five minutes.
Kochanski: 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?
Lister: Just do the smegging dance and we'll be out of here in a jiffy.
The Cat: Dance? With her, I'd have trouble walking. I'm powering up.
Rimmer: If only I hired a smarter lawyer, instead of the brain-dead, pompous, stupid-haired git I ended up with.
Lister: You defended yourself.
Rimmer: Yes, and I don't need reminding of that, thank you very much.
Lister: If I say who I thinks responsible for this it'll get cut too, but it's him, I know it's him, you can bet on it. And if I ever catch up with him, I'm gonna cut off both his
Lister: blunt knife.
Kryten: Oh, my.
Lister: What is it?
Kryten: I don't believe I'm here.
Kochanski: I have that feeling all the time.
Kryten: I have it... I believe we're in some kind of computer-manipulated, psycho-tropically-induced mind state.
Holly: You took the words right out of my mouth.
Holly: If I'm so stupid, if I'm computer-senile, explain this then.
The Cat: ...Explain what?
Holly: You can't, can you!
The Cat: You mean after all this I still haven't got a date? Damn. Another year when I have to send a Valentine card to my hand.
Rimmer: This is reality? But how can we be sure?
The Cat: Why do we care? Nothing makes any sense no matter where we are!