Category Archives: Red Dwarf Series 1

Red Dwarf Full Script Series 1 Episode 6 Me²

This is the full script for Red Dwarf Seris 1 Episode 6 -Me². If you thought that one Rimmer was enough, wait until there are 2!

November25 is Gazpacho soup day

RED DWARF Series I Episode 6, “Me²”

1 Ext. View of space.

HOLLY: (In space) This is an SOS distress call from the mining ship Red
Dwarf. The crew are dead, killed by a radiation leak. The only
survivors were Dave Lister, who was in suspended animation during the
disaster, and his pregnant cat, who was safely sealed in the hold.
Revived three million years later, Lister’s only companions are a life
form who evolved from his cat, and Arnold Rimmer, a hologram simulation
of one of the dead crew.
(Returning) We have enough food to last thirty thousand years but we’ve
only got one After Eight mint left. And everyone’s too polite to take
it.

2 Int. Sleeping quarters.

LISTER is looking over a bookshelf.

LISTER: “Astronavigation and Invisible Numbers and Engineering Structure
Made Simple.” That’s Rimmer’s.

He tosses the book into a trunk and looks back at the shelf.

LISTER: Ah, ha! “The Pop-Up Kama Sutra – Zero Gravity Edition!” That’s
mine!

He sticks the book under his pillow, turns back to the shelf, and finds a
video tape.

LISTER: “Arnold J. Rimmer – A Tribute.” What’s this?
RIMMER: (Walking in) It’s a video of my death.
LISTER: You video’d your death?
RIMMER: Holly did it for me.
LISTER: You’re very strange, Rimmer.
RIMMER: What’s so strange? You have videos of weddings and births.
LISTER: So, what, do you have other people around, give ’em a sherry, and
invite them to watch you snuff it?
RIMMER: Lister, my death is one of the most important things that ever
happened to me. Just stick it in the trunk and shut up.
LISTER: (Tossing the tape into the trunk) Weeeird!
RIMMER: (Pointing to music and sports posters tacked up over LISTER’s
bunk) Uh, what about these posters?
LISTER: Woa, they’re mine!
RIMMER: I know, but the Blu-Tac is mine.
LISTER: You want to take the Blu-Tac?
RIMMER: Well, it is mine. I did pay for it with my money.
LISTER: Oh, there’s one of your old toenail clippings under the bed.
I’ll put that in too, shall I?
RIMMER: Ah, Lister, this is one the best decisions I ever made. No more
*you* and your stupid, annoying face. No more *you* and your stupid,
annoying habits.
LISTER: *Me*? What did I do?
RIMMER: You hummed. Maliciously and persistently for two years. Every
time I sat down to do some revision: MMMMmmMMmMmMMMmMMMMMMMmmm–
LISTER: Hang on, hang on. Are you saying you never became an officer
because you shared your quarters with someone who hummed?
RIMMER: Obviously not just that, Lister. Everything! Everything you
ever did was designed to hold me back and annoy me.
LISTER: Like what?
RIMMER: Like using my mother’s photograph as an ashtray.
LISTER: I didn’t know! I thought it was a souvenir from Titan Zoo.
RIMMER: Exchanging the symbols on my revision timetable so instead of
taking my Engineering Finals, I went swimming.
LISTER: The symbols fell off. I thought I put them back in the right
place.
RIMMER: Swapping my toothpaste for a tube of contraceptive jelly.
LISTER: Come on! That was a joke.
RIMMER: Yes, Lister, the same kind of joke as putting my name down on the
waiting list for experimental pile surgery.
LISTER: It’s not only one-way, Rimmer. You’re hardly Mr. Nice Guy. Mr.
Easy-To-Live-With.
RIMMER: What are you talking about?
LISTER: I’m talking about playing your self-hypnosis tapes all through
the night. “Learn Esperanto While You Sleep.” “Learn Quantum Theory
While You Sleep.”
RIMMER: We both got the same benefit.
LISTER: Yeah, neither of us got any sleep. And what about the time you
tied me hair to the bedpost and then sounded the fire alarm?
RIMMER: Lister, I did that because I was sick of you annoying me. I
don’t have to explain it.
LISTER: I nearly needed brain surgery!
RIMMER: What brains? The point is you’ve always stopped me being
successful. That’s a scientific fact.
LISTER: Rimmer, you can’t blame me for your lousy life.
RIMMER: Oh, yes, I can.
LISTER: See! It’s always the same. You never had the right pens for
your G.E. drawing. Your dividers don’t stretch far enough.
RIMMER: Well, they don’t!
LISTER: See! In the end you can’t turn around and say, “I’m sorry I
buggered up my life.” It’s all Lister’s fault!
RIMMER: Well, I’m not, am I? I’m moving out. Out of Slob City and into
Successville.
LISTER: What, you mean next door?
RIMMER: It’s not the place, Lister. It’s the company. I’m about to
share my life with someone who’ll give me encouragement and
understanding. The thrust and parry of meaningful conversation.

Another Rimmer, RIMMER #2, sticks his head in the door.

RIMMER #2: Everything tickety-boo?
RIMMER: Absolutely, Mr. Rimmer. I’ll be along lickety-split.
RIMMER #2: Carry on!

RIMMER and RIMMER #2 both give each other a Full-Rimmer salute. RIMMER
#2 leaves.

RIMMER: What a guy! I just don’t know why I didn’t think if this before.
A duplicate me.
LISTER: Yeah, yeah. (Picks up a painting.) Carry this for ya?
RIMMER: Be very careful with that. It’s an antique. It’s absolutely
priceless.

LISTER turns the painting round to get a look at and we see that it’s one
of those really cheesy cute chimp paintings.

LISTER: (Carrying painting out) Oh, man. (Mockingly) “Tickety-boo.”
“Lickety-split.” Gawd, meaningful conversation?

LISTER walks along corridor 159 from his door to the door next to it.

LISTER: (Reading the name plaque by the door) “Second Technician Arnold
J. Rimmer and Second Technician Arnold J. Rimmer.”

He shakes his head and activates the door opening panel.

LISTER carries the painting into the Rimmers’ Sleeping Quarters. The
room is symmetrical with a tidy little bunk on each side of the room, a
desk in the middle, and posters with geometric patterns on the wall.

RIMMER #2: Ah, Lister. Be very careful with that. It’s an antique.
Absolutely priceless.
RIMMER: Gosh, I just said that!
RIMMER #2: Did you, really? That’s incredible! What a lovely story!

The two Rimmers laugh.

LISTER: (Points to a sign on the wall.) Why have you got “No Smoking”
signs up when neither of you smoke?
RIMMER: Because they’re our “No Smoking” signs and we happen to think
they look rather striking.
LISTER: (Spotting newspaper headlines cut out and pasted on the door)
Whoa ho ho! What’s all this?! “Arnold’s Tops With Us,” “I Owe It All
To Rimmer,” “Arnie Does It Best.” This is very funny stuff.
RIMMER: Uh, just go.
LISTER: Because your name’s Arnold Rimmer and even though these headlines
are about other people, you’ve cut them out and put them on the wall so
people will think they’re about you?
RIMMER #2: Shoo, shoo, shoo!
RIMMER: Look, go on, out!
LISTER: This job’s going to keep me laughing all through the winter!
RIMMER: Lister, we don’t have to take this anymore. We don’t have to put
up with your snidey remarks, your total slobbiness, your socks that set
off the sprinkler system.
RIMMER #2: Vacate our new quarters!
LISTER: Bye bye, Rimmer. No, wait. (To RIMMER) Bye bye, (To RIMMER #2)
bye bye, (To both) Rimmer, Rimmer. (Heads out.)
RIMMER: Goit.

3 Int. Corridor 147.

The CAT dances along.

CAT: Oooooowwww!!! Hey, I’m looking so good today! If I looked any
better, I’d be illegal!

He pulls out a megaphone.

CAT: Hello, hello! Testing, testing! One, one, one. Me, me, me!
Attention, all lady cats! I am feeling very, very sexy! Can you hear
me, lady cats?! My body is available! Please form a queue! No
squabbling! This is your lucky day!

4 Int. LISTER’s quarters.

LISTER: (Humming) MMMMmmmmmMmmMMMMmmMMMMMMmmMmmmmMMmmm….
lallallanannalalnalaaaa…. Ecstasy! NANANANAANNAAANNAAAA! We’retalking mega-ecstasy bliss! I can hum as loud as I like, as long as I
like. I’m a free man.

He looks at the hamper.

LISTER: And you see those socks? See ’em?

He dumps the hamper out on the floor.

LISTER: They’re going right where they belong, all over the floor, where
any self-respecting bachelor would keep ’em. I can have the bottom
bunk, the big bunk!

He hops into the bottom bunk and kicks his feet around joyously. He hops
back out and grabs the shampoo bottle from the sink.

LISTER: I’m gonna leave the top of the shampoo off! I’m going to squeeze
the toothpaste right from the middle! In fact, I’m gonna do all the
things that drove him bonkers! I’m gonna crack me knuckles! I’m gonna
grind me teeth!

He does each one of these things in turn.

LISTER: I’m gonna live for a change! Yeeheeheeheeeeee!!!

He leaps into a hand-stand, landing with his face right near the dirty
socks on the floor.

LISTER: Ugh, smeggin’ hell!

He picks up the socks and puts the back in the hamper, coughing.

LISTER: What’s this?

He picks up a video tape from the floor.

LISTER: Video of Rimmer’s death? Holly, get us some popcorn, put the
video on for us, would ya?
HOLLY: Well, I can just about manage that, I suppose.

LISTER pulls a stool up to the monitor over the sink as a scutter rolls
up with a box of popcorn.

On the monitor the words: “A Tribute to Arnold J. Rimmer, BSc, SSc”
appear, accompanied by dramatic music.

HOLLY: “BSc, SSc?” What’s that?
LISTER: Bronze Swimming certificate and Silver Swimming certificate.
He’s a total lunatic.
RIMMER: (On the video) Hello. This video pays homage to a man who fell
short of greatness by a gnat’s wing. Before we see a digitalised
recording of his final moments, there’s going to be a lengthy tribute,
interspersed with poetry readings, read by me.
LISTER: Whoa-ho! Spin on! (The video fast forwards.) Okay, Hol. Put it
in motion. (The video continues.)
RIMMER: (On the video) …and if it hadn’t been for those people who kept
dragging him down, pulling him down, pulling him back…
LISTER: Spin on! (The video fast forwards and continues.)
RIMMER: (On the video) …if you put Napoleon in quarters with Lister,
he’d still be in Corsica, peeling spuds.
LISTER: (A mite peeved) Spin on! (The video fast forwards and
continues.)
RIMMER: (On the video) …we see the final moments of Arnold J. Rimmer.
LISTER: Yes!

On the video, Captain HOLLISTER is in the Drive Room yelling at RIMMER
who is standing at attention. A few random officers stand in the back.

HOLLISTER: (On the video to RIMMER) Look, it was your job to fix it,
Rimmer! You can’t do sloppy work on the drive plate!
RIMMER: (On the video) I know, sir, and I accept full responsibility for
*any* consequences. (Executes a Full-Rimmer salute.)

A blinding white light glares and everyone is blown across the room by a
tremendous wind.

HOLLY: (On the video) Emergency. There’s an emergency going on. It’s
still going on. Will Arnold J. Rimmer please hurry to white corridor
159. This is an emergency announcement.

We see RIMMER as he is thrown against a wall, screaming

RIMMER: (On the video) Aaaaaiiiiiiiuuuuurrrrghhhhh… Gazpacho soup.

RIMMER is blown out of shot until only his arm is visible which falls
into the shattered remains of a snow flurry paperweight (echoes of
“Citizen Kane”).

LISTER: Off. (The video stops.) Gazpacho soup? Why were his last words,
“gazpacho soup?”

The CAT rolls in on roller skates using a megaphone.

CAT: Attention lady cats! Sensual emergency! Good lovin’ needed bad!
(Spins around.) Ooooooowwww! (To LISTER) Hey, no girls here? What a
waste of a good move! It’s a shame. I’m looking so dangerous, too!
Wow! Yeah! yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
LISTER: Cat, what are you doing?
CAT: (Gentlemanly) I’m courting.
LISTER: Courting who?
CAT: Whoever shows up.
LISTER: I told you before. There’s no other cats on board.
CAT: If I believed that for one minute, I’d go crazy! (Dancing out)
Oooooowwww! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!

5 Model Shot.

Red Dwarf.

RIMMER #2: (VO) Up, up, up! Stretch, stretch, stretch!

6 Int. RIMMERS’ quarters.

The two Rimmers are exercising by squatting then leaping high into the
air, throwing their arms above them. Looks like over-exuberant jumping
jacks.

Red Dwarf Rimmer Warm Ups

RIMMER #2: Stretch further!
RIMMER: (Stopping) And rest.
RIMMER #2: (Still jumping) No! Keep jumping!
RIMMER: (Jumping some more) Absolutely. Keep on going. Through the pain
barrier.
RIMMER #2: Jump, jump, jump!
RIMMER: (Stopping again) And rest.
RIMMER #2: (Still jumping) What are you doing, man?!
RIMMER: I’m resting! It’s going all gray!
RIMMER #2: That’s the pain barrier! Beat it!
RIMMER: (Jumping awkwardly) You’re right. You’re absolutely right. Keep
it going.
RIMMER #2: (Stopping) And rest.
RIMMER: (Collapsing) Brilliant! That extra little bit. That’s what it’s
all about.
RIMMER #2: What time do we get up?
RIMMER: Oh, early! Half past eight.
RIMMER #2: No, earlier than that. Seven.
RIMMER: How ’bout six?
RIMMER #2: No, half past four.
RIMMER: That’s the middle of the night!
RIMMER #2: You wanted driving. I’m driving you.
RIMMER: Once again, Arnold, you’re absolutely right. Holly, alarm call
four-thirty in the morning. Make it the sonic boom, extra loud,
emergency one.
HOLLY: Yes, Arnold. And Arnold.

RIMMER starts to crawl into bed

RIMMER #2: Uh, what are you doing, Arnold?
RIMMER: I’m going to bed, Arnold.
RIMMER #2: But it’s two in the morning! We can get in a couple hours of
revision easily.
RIMMER: But I’m getting up in a minute.

Im getting up in a minute
RIMMER #2: You take Power Circuits and Esperanto. I’ll take Thermal
Energy and the History of Philosophy.
RIMMER: (Getting up) Fantastic! This is what I’ve always dreamed of!
I’m in heaven!
RIMMER #2: Better than sex.

7 Model shot.

View of Red Dwarf from space.

HOLLY: (VO) It is four-thirty. Here is your early-morning alarm call.

A huge blast made of warbles, barks, whistles, and sirens shakes the
ship.

8 Int. Corridor 149, outside LISTER’S quarters.

RIMMER is directing the scutters in painting the walls.

RIMMER: (To the scutters) That’s the way. Smooth and even. Up and down.

LISTER walks out of his quarters.

RIMMER: Ah, Lister. Bonnen Maitenon. Didn’t wake you, I trust?
LISTER: No, I haven’t been to bed yet.
RIMMER: But it’s five past five in the morning. It’s practically
lunchtime.
LISTER: (Noticing the scutters are doing) What are you doing?
RIMMER: It’s called “work,” Lister. I didn’t think you’d recognize it.
W-O-R-K. It is in the dictionary. (To the scutters) Come on, paint!
Paint, paint, paint!
LISTER: But why are they painting the color the same color it was before?
RIMMER: They’re changing it from Ocean Gray to Military Gray. Something
that should’ve been done a long time ago.
LISTER: Looks exactly the same to me.
RIMMER: No. No, no, no. (Points to a section of a wall.) That’s the new
Military Gray bit there, and that’s the dowdy, old, nasty Ocean Gray
bit there.

The two bits look identical.

RIMMER: Or is it the other way ’round?
LISTER: It doesn’t matter, Rimmer. It very nice. So how’s Mrs. Rimmer?
RIMMER: (Sneering) Tee hee, hoddle, ha. Why don’t you just get back into
your cesspit or you won’t have the energy for a full day’s slob.
LISTER: I just wondered what you talked about and that, you know.
RIMMER: Millions of things, Lister. Apart from being a complete genius,
that man happens to be a total delight. Has me in stitches all the
time.
LISTER: What? I mean, he knows everything you know and you know
everything he knows. So what do you talk about?
RIMMER: We reminisce, chew over old times, past glories, old girlfriends.
LISTER: Oh, you mean Yvonne MacGruder?
RIMMER: Don’t say Yvonne MacGruder as if she’s the only one.
LISTER: Oh, go on, then. Name one other girlfriend, then.
RIMMER: Lister, I’m far, far, far too much of a gentleman to stoop to
that kind of shower-room mentality. All you need to know about Yvonne
MacGruder is: I gave her one!

He makes a fist and punches his arm into the air, grabbing his bicep with
his other hand, in the age-old boinking gesture.

LISTER: Fine, Rimmer, fine. That’s very nice. Very, very nice. So, um,
what’s “gazpacho soup?”
RIMMER: (Dumbstruck) What?
LISTER: It’s just that they were your last words and I wondered why.
RIMMER: You’ve been watching my death video, haven’t you?! That’s
private! It’s for my enjoyment only!
LISTER: It just seemed like such a strange thing to say. “Gazpacho
soup.”
RIMMER: Well, I’m sorry I didn’t have time to sit down and bash out a
speech in iambic pentameter. I was hit in the face by an atomic
explosion.
LISTER: But why “gazpacho soup?”
RIMMER: That, Lister, is something that you will never ever know.
HOLLY: Arnold, you asked me to remind you when it was time for your
Esperanto revision.
RIMMER: Thank you, Holly. (To the scutters) You two, carry on.

9 Int. RIMMERS’ quarters.

LISTER sneaks in. No sign of the Rimmers. LISTER goes over to the
bookshelf on the desk.

LISTER: (Pulling a large book from the shelf) “A to Z of Red Dwarf!” Ha,
ha, ha-ha!

Opens the book and finds a smaller book hidden in a hole cut into the
book.

LISTER: I thought so!

LISTER puts the dictionary back and reads the small book.

LISTER: “My Diary, by Arnold J. Rimmer. January the first: I have
decided to keep a journal of my thoughts and deeds over the coming
year. A daily chart of my progress through the echelons of command, so
that perhaps one day, other aspiring officers may seek enlightenment
through these pages. It is my fond hope that, one day, this journal
will take its place alongside `Napoleon’s War Diaries’ and `The
Memories of Julius Caesar’.” Next entry… (Flips ahead.)
“July the seventeenth: Auntie Maggie’s Birthday.” (Flips ahead.)
“November the twenty-fifth: Gazpacho Soup day!” That’s six weeks
before the crew got wiped out.

November25 is Gazpacho soup day

The closet door opens and the CAT climbs out.

CAT: Heh. He won’t find *that* one. Heh, heh! Not until he changes his
boots. Heh, heh! (Sees LISTER) OH!

CAT holds a hand up to hide his face and he heads for the door.

CAT: Did you see him clearly? Could you spot him in a parade? I don’t
think so. I could’ve been anybody. (Leaves.)

10 Int. LISTER’S quarters.

LISTER is blowing a large bubble with bubble gum. Once he’s satisfied,
he holds up a spanner and ruler to measure it, then pulls the gum out his
mouth with the bubble intact and still attached.

LISTER: Ten and three-quarter centimeters! Plus five for not breaking
and that is a big, big score! The Brown’s are going to have to do
something quite sensational with their last bubble. Quite clearly.
(Puts new gum in his mouth.)
HOLLY: Busy, Dave?

LISTER spits his gum across the room in surprise.

LISTER: Well, yeah, I am, actually!
HOLLY: Oh. Then you won’t want to know about the two super-lightspeed
fighters that are tracking us.
LISTER: What?!
HOLLY: I’ll leave you to your bubble blowing, mate.
LISTER: No, Holly. Hol. Come on.
HOLLY: They’re from Earth.
LISTER: That’s three million years away.
HOLLY: They’re from the NorWEB Federation.
LISTER: What’s that?
HOLLY: NorthWestern Electricity Board. They want you, Dave.
LISTER: Me? Why? What for?
HOLLY: For your crimes against humanity.
LISTER: You what?!
HOLLY: Seems when you left Earth, three million years ago, you left two
half-eaten German sausages on a plate in your kitchen.
LISTER: Did I?
HOLLY: You know what happens to sausages left unattended for three
million years?
LISTER: Yeah, they go mouldy.
HOLLY: Your sausages, Dave, now cover seven-eighths of the Earth’s
surface. Also, you left seventeen pounds, fifty pence in your bank
account. Thanks to compound interest you now own 98% of all the
world’s wealth. And because you hoarded it for three million years,
nobody’s got any money except for you and NorWEB.
LISTER: Why NorWEB?
HOLLY: You left a light on in the bathroom. I’ve got a final demand here
for one hundred and eighty billion pounds.
LISTER: A hundred and eighty billion pounds?!! You’re kidding!
HOLLY: (Wearing a Grouch-Marx glasses-nose-and-moustache) April Fool.
LISTER: But it’s not April!
HOLLY: Yeah, I know. But I can’t be waiting six months with a red-hot
jape like that underneath me hat.
LISTER: So you just made it all up, then?
HOLLY: Yeah. Bit of excitement for a while, wasn’t it? You can’t beat a
good wheeze. Huhu!
LISTER: I don’t need a good wheeze. You can do your own excitement for
yourself.
HOLLY: No, you can’t. You haven’t got a clue. You’re useless.
LISTER: (Hearing the two Rimmers through the wall) Shhhhh!
RIMMER #2: (Through the wall) ….shut up!
RIMMER: (Through the wall) I make you vomit?
LISTER: (To HOLLY) What’s that?
RIMMER #2: (Through the wall) Keep your voice down!

11 Int. RIMMERS’ quarters.

RIMMER #2 is in bed. RIMMER stand facing him.

RIMMER: (Hurt) I’m not gonna stand here and take this abuse.
RIMMER #2: (Sneering) Oh, yes, when the going gets tough, the tough go
and have a little cry in the corner. You got a sponge for a backbone!
No wonder father hated you!
RIMMER: That’s a lie! A lie, lie, lie, lie, lie!
RIMMER #2: Then why didn’t he send you to the academy?
RIMMER: He couldn’t afford it!
RIMMER #2: Oh! He sent all our brothers!
RIMMER: You’re a filthy, smegging, lying, smegging liar!
RIMMER #2: Face facts, man, nobody likes you! Not even Mummy!
RIMMER: (Almost crying) Mummy *did* like me! Mummy was just busy. She
had a lot of meetings to go to.
RIMMER #2: Twattle!
RIMMER: You better watch what you say about my mummy! I’m a grown man
and I’m not going to accept it.
RIMMER #2: (Shouting) Oh, grow up, Mr. Gazpacho!!
RIMMER: (Quietly) Mister what?
RIMMER #2: (Shouting) I … SAID … MISTER … GAZ … PAAAACHO,
DEAFIE!!!
RIMMER: (Crying) That is the most obscenely hurtful thing.
RIMMER #2: (Shouting) GOOD!

12 Int. LISTER’S quarters.

LISTER is standing at the door, trying to listen to the Rimmers.

RIMMER: (From his quarters) That is the straw that broke the dromedary,
that is. You’re finished, Rimmer.
RIMMER #2: (Snarling from his quarters) No, YOU’RE finished, Rimmer!

LISTER sees RIMMER leave his own quarters. LISTER runs back to the top
bunk and pretends he was reading a book. RIMMER walks in sadly.

RIMMER: Ah, Lister… How are you?
LISTER: I’m tickety-boo. What d’ya want?
RIMMER: I don’t suppose you’ve managed to get that Blu-Tac together for
me, have you?
LISTER: Rimmer, it’s three A.M.!
RIMMER: It doesn’t matter. It can wait til the morning. (Heads for the
bottom bunk.) I’m just gonna sleep here, okay? So, when you’re ready.
LISTER: Everything all right, is it?
RIMMER: Sure! Absolutely. Yeah, sure.
LISTER: No problems, then?
RIMMER: No! No, no. Things couldn’t be hunky-dorier.
LISTER: It’s just I thought I heard, you know, um, raised voices?
RIMMER: Heh. It’s quite an amusing thought, isn’t it? Having a… a
blazing row with yourself.
RIMMER #2: (Shouting in Rimmer’s Quarters) HIT THE WALL! GO ON! HIT THE
WALL! GO ON! YEAH! YEAH!

We see RIMMER #2 is directing the scutters to hit the adjoining wall for
him.

RIMMER #2: (Shouting through the wall) CAN YOU SHUT UP, RIMMER?! SOME OF
US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!
RIMMER: (To LISTER) Obviously, we have professional disagreements. But,
I mean, nothing with any side to it. Nothing malicious.
RIMMER #2: (Shouting through the wall) SHUT UP, YA DEAD GIT!
RIMMER: (Getting up) Excuse me a second, Lister, will you?

He walks calmly to the door.

RIMMER: STOP YOUR FOUL WHINING, YOU FILTHY PIECE OF DISTENDED RECTUM!!!

Stop your foul whining - Red Dwarf Quote

He calmly turns back.

RIMMER: Lister, there’s no point in concealing it anymore. Rimmer and
me, we’ve had a bit of a tiff. Nothing major. But it goes without
saying, IT WAS HIS FAULT!

13 Model shot.

Red Dwarf in space.

14 Int. Cinema.

The CAT and LISTER are sitting together. LISTER has a cigarette,
popcorn, a soda, and other mystery foods.

ANNOUNCER: (On the screen) Fired from Earth? Deep into the heart of the
Solar System? And you fancy a curry? Then why not drop in at the
Titan Taj Mahal Indian Restaurant! Enjoy the finest Tandori Cuisine at
one-fifth gravity! Just a short space-walk from this cinema!
CAT: (To LISTER) Shut up!
LISTER: Look, will you stop doing that?
CAT: I’m trying to watch the film!
LISTER: I’m only eatin’!
CAT: No. Eatin’s when the food goes in your mouth!
RIMMER #2: (Walking in) Morning.
LISTER: Yeah.
RIMMER #2: (Sitting beside LISTER) What’s on?
LISTER: Orson Welles, “Citizen Kane.”
RIMMER #2: Uh, there’s no smoking on this side. You should be sitting
over there.
LISTER: Nobody’s complaining.
RIMMER #2: Yes, they are! I am. So would you kindly move to the proper
designated smoking area for the convenience of other patrons?

LISTER blows smoke in RIMMER #2’s face.

LISTER: I thought you hated films.
RIMMER #2: No, it’s for the film course at night school. “Citizen Kane,”
hmmm? That’s Orson Welles, is it?

We see that the film is a cartoon with a large cat firing a machine gun.

RIMMER #2: Ah, that’s “Citizen Kane,” allright! Unmistakable.
LISTER: Why are you here? Where’s your wife?
RIMMER #2: Don’t ask me. He’s nothing to do with me, anymore. Last time
I saw him, he was redoing my paint work. Changing it from Military
Gray back to Ocean Gray. He’s quite, quite mad!
RIMMER: (Walking in) Lister. Cat. (Sits directly in front of RIMMER
#2.)
RIMMER #2: (To RIMMER) Excuse me, I can’t see.
RIMMER: (To RIMMER #2) Shhh.
RIMMER #2: (To RIMMER) Excuse me, I can’t see through the back of your
stupid, curly-haired, sticky-outy-eared head.
LISTER: I’m trying to watch the film!
CAT: Yeah!
RIMMER #2: (To RIMMER) Move!
RIMMER: Look, I just happened to choose a seat at random. If you’re
unhappy with your seat, I suggest you move.
RIMMER #2: Right. (Stands up.) Now, where shall I sit? Over here or
over there? Ummmm… no, that’s a nice seat! (Sits directly in front
of RIMMER #2.)
RIMMER: Look at this, Mr. Maturity.

After a moment he stands up and sits in front of RIMMER #2 in the front
row.

LISTER: Will you two guys just grow up?
RIMMER #2: Two? I think there’s just one immature person around here and
we all know who it is.

RIMMER #2 and RIMMER point at each other.

A shadow of a RIMMER #2’s hand as a shadow puppet comes up on the screen.

RIMMER #2: (As the shadow puppet) Hello. What do you think of Arnold
Rimmer? Phbbbttt! Phbbbttt! Phbbbttt! Phbbbttt! Phbbbttt!
LISTER: (Standing up) This can’t go on. One of you’s is gotta go.
RIMMER: (Pointing at each other) Yes, him.
RIMMER #2: Look, it’s crystal smegging clear which one of us has gotta
go.
RIMMER: Yes, you! Look, I was here first. I nursed Listie through those
early, delicate days!
RIMMER #2: Look, we are identical. We’re exactly the same person. Only
you’re mentally unstable.

LISTER decides to use a rhyme similar to “one-potato, two-potato” to
choose between the two Rimmers.

LISTER: Ippy-dippy, my space shippy, on a course so true, past Neptune
and Pluto’s moon, the one I choose is you.

He ends pointing to RIMMER.

RIMMER #2: Excellent! Excellent decision, Listie! Turn him off.
RIMMER: And the one you end on is the one who stays, yes?
LISTER: (Firmly to RIMMER) It’s you, Rimmer.
RIMMER: Wait a minute. Just wait a minute. Hold your horses. Hang on.
LISTER: It’s your own fault, Rimmer. If you’d’ve given me Kochanski’s
hologram, none of this would’ve happened. You made the bed, you lie in
it. Drive Room. Ten minutes.
RIMMER #2: Drive Room. Five minutes.
RIMMER: I don’t believe it. I’ve been ippy-dippied to death.

15 Int. Drive room.

LISTER, the CAT, and RIMMER #2 are in the Drive Room.

LISTER: (To RIMMER #2) I want you out.
RIMMER #2: What have I said?
LISTER: Just out!
RIMMER #2: There’s precious little entertainment on this ship. I mean,
if you can’t attend the odd execution, what have you got left?
LISTER: Out! Go on!

As RIMMER #2 leaves, he passes RIMMER who is in full dress uniform.

RIMMER #2: (To RIMMER) Phbbbttt!!!! Don’t forget to write, ya great
nancy! (Leaves.)
RIMMER: Lister.
LISTER: Fancy a drink?

RIMMER shakes his head no. LISTER notices the four medals on RIMMER’s
jacket.

LISTER: Ooooh! I didn’t know you had any medals! What are they?
RIMMER: (Pointing to each one) Three Year Long Service, Six Years Long
Service, Nine Years Long Service, (pausing to remember) Twelve Years
Long Service.
LISTER: Come on, just one drink.
RIMMER: I’ll have a whiskey.
LISTER: Holly, give ’em a whiskey.
HOLLY: How would you like it?
RIMMER: Straight. With ice and lemonade, a cherry and a slice of lemon.
(RIMMER flinches as he experiences the invisible drink.)
LISTER: Another? (RIMMER nods. He flinches.)
RIMMER: And another. (Flinches.) And another. Make it a double.
(Flinches.)
LISTER: So, um, what’s all this gazpacho soup business? What’s it all
about?

LISTER sits down for the story.

RIMMER: I suppose now I’m doomed, I can tell you. Gazpacho soup. It was
the greatest night of my life. I’d been invited to the Captain’s
Table. I’d only been with the company fourteen years. Six officers
and me! They called me “Arnold.” We had gazpacho soup for starters. I
didn’t know gazpacho soup was meant to be served cold.

Rimmer and the art of dining - Red Dwarf Quotes

I called over
the chef and I told him to take it away and bring it back hot. He did!
The looks on their faces still haunt me today!!
(Crying) I thought they were laughing at the chef, when all the time,
they were laughing at me as I ate my piping hot gazpacho soup! I never ate at the Captain’s Table again. That was the end of my career.
LISTER: Oh, come on. Anyone could’ve made that mistake.
RIMMER: If only they’d’ve mentioned it in Basic Training! Instead of
climbing up and down ropes and crawling on your elbows through tunnels.
(Shouting) If only, just once, they’d said, “Gazpacho soup is served
cold!” I could’ve been an admiral by now! (Quietly) Instead of a
nothing which is what I am, let’s face it.
LISTER: Aw, come one. You’re not a nothing.
CAT: He is.
RIMMER: (To the CAT) You’re right!
CAT: I know I’m right.
RIMMER: I never got off the bottom rung. And do you know why? Because I
didn’t have the right nobby parents. I bet Todhunter was fed gazpacho
soup the moment he was on solids. No, I bet he was breast-fed with it.
One side gazpacho soup and the other side freely dispensing chilled
champagne! Phbbbbttttt…..!
CAT: (Angry) Is this gonna go on all day? I thought he was gonna get
wiped!
RIMMER: Yes, go on. Turn me off. Go on. Turn me off. Get rid of me.
LISTER: I’ve already done it. I wiped the other one. (Grins.)
CAT: (Laughs.)
RIMMER: What?! You wiped… When??!!
LISTER: Just before you came in.
RIMMER: And you let me stand here and bare my soul?
LISTER: (Grinning) Yeah. You see, I wanted to find out about gazpacho
soup and I knew you wouldn’t tell me.
RIMMER: Well, of course, I wouldn’t tell you. You’d make my life a hell
with gazpacho soup jokes for the rest of my life!
LISTER: Rimmer, I promise — I *swear* — I will never, ever mention this
conversation again. And when I swear, I mean it.

LISTER stands up.

RIMMER: You promise?
LISTER: I promise. (Crosses himself and makes a Boy Scout salute.)
RIMMER: Do you swear absolutely?
LISTER: I swear absolutely that I promise that I will never mention
gazpacho soup again! (Again crosses himself and makes a Boy Scout
salute.)
RIMMER: Allright. You’re a bit of a slob, Lister, you know, but, when it
comes down to it, you keep your word. This time I’m gonna believe you.
Let’s go for another drink.

RIMMER, LISTER, and CAT head out the door.

LISTER: Souper!

RIMMER glares at him.

Credits:

Rimmer Chris Barrie
Lister Craig Charles
Cat Danny John-Jules
Holly Norman Lovett
Captain Mac McDonald
Written by Bob Grant Doug Naylor
Music Howard Goodall
Developed for Television by Paul Jackson Productions
Graphic Designer Mark Allen
Visual Effects Designer Peter Wragg
Prop Buyer Mike Fallon
Assistant Floor Manager Dona Distefano
Production Assistant Alison Thornber
Unit Manager Mario Dubois
Production Manager George R. Clarke
Costume Designer Jacki Pinks
Costume Assistant Lesley Staves
Make-up Designer Suzanne Jansen
Vision Mixer Jill Dornan
Camera Supervisor Mike Jackson
Technical Co-ordinator John Spicer
Videotape Editor Ed Wooden
Lighting Director John Pomphrey
Sound Tony Worthington
Alan Machin
Wendy Rath
Designer Paul Montague
Executive Producer Paul Jackson
Producer & Director Ed Bye

MCMLXXXVII

Red Dwarf Full Script Series 1 Episode 5 Confidence and Paranoia

Full scripts for Red Dwarf online. This is the full script for RED DWARF Series 1 Episode 5, “Confidence and Paranoia”

Full script for Red Dwarf Confidence and Paranoia

Full Script Red Dwarf Confidence and Paranoia

1 Ext. View of space.

HOLLY: (In space) This is an SOS distress call from the mining ship Red Dwarf.
The crew are dead, killed by a radiation leak. The only survivors were Dave Lister, who was in suspended animation during the disaster, and his pregnant cat, who was safely sealed in the hold.
Revived three million years later, Lister’s only companions are a life form who evolved from his cat, and Arnold Rimmer, a hologram simulation of one of the dead crew.
(Returning) We have been travelling through the galaxy now for three million years and there are many things we’ve discovered.
The highest form of life in the universe is Man and the lowest is a man who works for the post office.

2 Int. Drive room.

LISTER is watching a soppy movie on one the screens while drinking a beer
milkshake and eating a bowl full of french fries. Romantic piano music
plays in the background of the film.

CAROL: (In the film) Oh, Jim, weren’t you the one who said we have to
seize our moments because they may never come again?

LISTER gurgles sadly into his milkshake.

JIM: (In the film) This is our moment, right here and now. Let’s seize
it together.
CAROL: Oh, you must know, I’m dying!
JIM: I know, Carol. Dr. Graham told me everything. (The music swells.)

HOLLY appears on the screen, interrupting the movie.

HOLLY: Busy, are you, Dave?
LISTER: Hol! I’m watching the film.
HOLLY: Just wondered if you’re a bit bored?
LISTER: No, no. I’m watching the film.
HOLLY: You’re not bored, then?
LISTER: No! Go away!

The film reappears on the screen.

CAROL: Oh, you must know, I’m dying!
JIM: I know, Carol. Dr. Graham told me everything. (The music swells.)

LISTER opens his mouth to sob and a mouthful of milkshake gushes onto his
shirt. He doesn’t seem to notice.

HOLLY appears on the screen, interrupting the movie.

HOLLY: I’ve just finished reading everything. I’ve now read everything
that’s been written by anyone ever.
LISTER: Would you go away?
HOLLY: You know what the worst book ever written by anyone ever was?
LISTER: I don’t care!
HOLLY: “Football, It’s a Funny Old Game” by Kevin Keegan.
LISTER: Holly, would you let me watch the film?

The film reappears on the screen. HOLLY reappears on the screen,
interrupting the movie.

HOLLY: I’m at a loose end now. I don’t know what to do with meself.
LISTER: Holly, why don’t you just read everything all over again.
HOLLY: I was thinking it might help pass the time if I created a
perfectly functioning replica of a woman, capable of independent
decision-making and abstract thought and absolutely undetectable from
the real thing.
LISTER: (Sitting up eagerly) Well why don’t you, then?
HOLLY: Because I don’t know how. I wouldn’t even know how to make the
nose. Heh.
LISTER: Holly, is there something that you want?
HOLLY: Well, only if you’re not busy. Would you mind erasing some of my
memory banks?
LISTER: What for?
HOLLY: Well, if you erase all the Agatha Christie novels from my memory
bank, I can read ’em again tonight.
LISTER: How do I do it?
HOLLY: Just type, “HolMem. Password override. The novels Christie,
Agatha.” Then press erase.

LISTER jabs two-fingered on a keyboard.

LISTER: I’ve done it.
HOLLY: Done what?
LISTER: Erased Agatha Christie.
HOLLY: Who’s she, then?
LISTER: Holly, you just asked me to erase all Agatha Christie novels from
your memory.
HOLLY: Why should I do that? I’ve never heard of her.
LISTER: You’ve never heard of her because I’ve just erased her from your
smegging memory.
HOLLY: What’d you do that for?
LISTER: You asked me to!
HOLLY: When?
LISTER: Just now!
HOLLY: I don’t remember this.
LISTER: Oh, I’m going to bed. This is gonna go on all night.

LISTER grabs his milkshake and fries and walks out of the room.

3 Int. Sleeping quarters.

LISTER lies in his top bunk, watching the soppy film in the screen over
the sink.

CAROL: …dying!
JIM: I know, Carol. Dr. Graham told me everything. (The music swells.)
RIMMER: (Marching in) Off! (The screen turns into a mirror.) Ah! Had a
good day, Lister? Scrummed enough choccies? Watched enough drivel,
have you? Look at you: you’re turning into a sad, middle-aged woman.
Next thing you know you’ll be varnishing your nails and buying girdles.
LISTER: Oh yeah? And what’ve you done that’s so great?
RIMMER: I’ve achieved seventeen things today off my daily goal list,
whereas you’ve never achieved anything ever in your entire life.
LISTER: Don’t know, you know. I went to the Officer’s Block.
RIMMER: When?!
LISTER: This morning.
RIMMER: But it hasn’t been decontaminated!
LISTER: You said it had last week!
RIMMER: No, I said it was on last Thursday’s daily goal list!
LISTER: And you haven’t done it yet?!
RIMMER: Tomorrow. It’s on tomorrow’s daily goal list. Item 34, right
after “Learn Portugese.”
LISTER: Thanks a lot. Don’t tell *me*.
RIMMER: Why were you mooching around up there, anyway?
LISTER: I was looking through Kochanski’s dream recorder. She dreamt
about me three times, you know. It was in the log.
RIMMER: So? Clean my teeth, please, Holly. (Bares his teeth as if
they’re being brushed.)
LISTER: I mean, it must mean something. You don’t dream about someone
that you don’t feel something for.
RIMMER: Lister, I once had a dream about a babboon but that doesn’t mean
I want to go to bed with it. Shave, please, Holly. (Scrunches his
mouth up and sticks out his jaw.) Lister, you ought to take a good long
look at yourself and then you’d see just how ridiculous you appear to
other people.
LISTER: If you’d let me have Kochanski’s personality disk for like one
second, maybe I could find out.
RIMMER: Lister, if you were a Love Celibate like me you wouldn’t have
these problems.
LISTER: Come on, Rimmer, the only reason you knocked around with those
prats from the Love Celibacy Society was you could never get a date.
RIMMER: No, it wasn’t. I happen to agree with their philosophy that love
is a sickness that holds back your career and makes you want to spend
all your money.
LISTER: You could never get a date because you let your mum buy all your
casual clothes.
RIMMER: There is nothing wrong with my casual clothes.
LISTER: Oh, come on, Rimmer, your trousers were so short when you crossed
your legs, you could see your knees.
RIMMER: What about Yvonne MacGruder? That was a date.
LISTER: She’d been hit on the head by a winch, she had a concussion.
RIMMER: That’s got nothing to do with it. She was crazy about me.
LISTER: Oh, yeah? She kept calling you “Norman.”
RIMMER: She still went to bed with me.
LISTER: Yeah, because she had wonky vision and she thought you were
somebody else.
RIMMER: Serves her right for being concussed, doesn’t it?

RIMMER lies down on his bunk

LISTER: Rimmer! You don’t know what love is.
RIMMER: Yes, I do. Love is a device invented by bank managers to make us
overdrawn. Lights!

The lights turn off.

LISTER: Rimmer… Love is what makes us different from animals.
RIMMER: No, Lister, what makes us different from animals is we don’t use
our tongues to clean our own genitals.

4 Int. Sleeping quarters. Later that night.

LISTER is moaning, sweating, and cringing in the top bunk. RIMMER sleeps
peacefully in the bottom bunk.

LISTER: Lights! (The room lights go on.) Rimmer, are you awake? Rimmer!
Are you awake?!
RIMMER: (Jerking awake) What? Yes, Mum, I’m just packing my satchel.

Satchel quote from Red Dwarf - Confidence and Paranoia
Where am I? What time is it?
LISTER: I don’t feel very well.
RIMMER: (Looking at a clock) Half past three?!
LISTER: I feel really ill.
RIMMER: Well, you are really ill.
LISTER: No, I mean, *really* ill. (Sobbing) I’m going down to the
medical unit. I don’t feel very well.

LISTER drops out of bed and stumbles out of the room, clutching his
blanket (which says, “Hilton” on it) around himself.

RIMMER: Lights! (The light go back off. RIMMER settles back to sleep.)
Ah, Miss MacGruder, where were we?

5 Int. Corridor 159, outside sleeping quarters.

LISTER stumbles on the corridor, sobbing, sweating, shivering.

LISTER: I feel really hot.

LISTER stumbles and falls to the floor, unconscious.

6 Int. Level 147.

The CAT is dancing along the corridor, spraying various items with a
small misting bottle.

CAT: Hey, this is mine. That’s mine. All this is mine. I’m claiming
all this as mine. Except that bit. I don’t want that bit. But all
the rest of this is mine. Hey, this has been a good day. I’ve eaten
five times, I’ve slept six times, and I’ve made a lot of things mine.
Tomorrow, I’m gonna see if I can’t have *sex* with something. (Dancing away) Oooooooooow, yeaaaaaaah…

This has been a good day - Red Dwarf fquote

7 Int. Corridor 159.

LISTER is still unconscious on the floor as the CAT dances up the
corridor toward him.

CAT: (Singing) S-E-X, you know I want it! S-E-X, I’m gonna get it!
(Seeing LISTER) S-E-X, I think I found it! (Recognizes LISTER and
crouches down beside him.) Oh, it’s you! Hey, monkey, you’re sick.
Sick, helpless, and unconscious. If you weren’t my friend, I’d steal
your shoes. (Sprays LISTER with the misting bottle and stands up.)
Time for a snack. This way. (Dances away.)
HOLLY: Emergency. There’s an emergency going on. It’s still going on.
It’s still an emergency. Will Arnold Rimmer please hurry to White
Corridor 159. This is an emergency announcement.

8 Int. Dining area.

The CAT stands at a food dispenser.

CAT: Food!
DISPENSING MACHINE: Today’s specialty is Chicken Meringue.

A chicken meringue with dinner rolls drops into the dispensing shelf.
The CAT takes it and dances to a table.

CAT: (Singing) I’m gonna eat you little chickie. I’m gonna eat you
little chickie. I’m gonna eat you little chickie.

He flicks the chicken off the table to one side, catching it before it
hits the ground.

CAT: Uh uh, too slow, chicken merango. Too slow for this cat.

He places the chicken back on his plate, looks away, and flicks the
chicken off the other side, onto the floor

CAT: Hey! This chicken is faster than I thought!

He retrieves the chicken.

RIMMER: (Running into the room) Quick! Lister’s fainted! He needs help!
Quick!

The CAT jumps up as if to follow, prompting RIMMER to run back out, at
which point the CAT sits back down again.

RIMMER: (Runs back in) Didn’t you hear me? Didn’t anyone hear me?
Lister’s in trouble. The monkey, oo oo oo, has fainted. I can not
pick him up. Quick! Come on! Now!

The CAT jumps up again, RIMMER runs back out, and the CAT sits back down.

RIMMER: (Walks back in.) Is there something wrong with you? Lister’s
collapsed!
CAT: Yeah?
RIMMER: What do you mean “yeah?” He needs help!
CAT: And?
RIMMER: And if you don’t help him he might die.
CAT: Aw, no. That’s too bad. I really liked him, too.
RIMMER: So, come and help him.
CAT: What? And interrupt my lunch?!
RIMMER: What is more important: a man’s life or your smegging lunch?
CAT: That doesn’t even deserve an answer.
RIMMER: Right. Okay. Fine. (Pointing to the scutters) You come with
me. You get a stretcher.

The CAT juggles his dinner rolls, sticks one in his mouth and holds the
other two over his eyes.

9 Int. Medical unit.

LISTER is sitting in a wheelchair, wrapped in his blanket. RIMMER stands
beside the medicomp, a medical computer. One of the scutters is on a
counter, holding a thermometer.

RIMMER: (Directing the scutter) Down. Down. Okay, stop.
LISTER: Let the medicomp take me temperature.
RIMMER: Lister, they’ve got to learn. Down, down, slowly now. Ah ah,
now very, very, very slowly forward.

The scutter jabs the thermometer into LISTER’s eye.

LISTER: AIGH! Me eye!
RIMMER: Lister, they’ve got to learn.
LISTER: I just nearly lost an eye!
RIMMER: How about an anal reading?
LISTER: I’m all right! I feel fine now.
RIMMER: Well, you’re not fine. And it’s your own smegging fault for
going up to the Officer’s Deck before it was decontaminated.
LISTER: I just wanted to have a look around.
RIMMER: You just wanted to go into Kochanski’s quarters and wallow in
self-pity. And look what’s it got you!
LISTER: I’m all right. I’ve got a touch of pneumonia. That’s all.
RIMMER: It’s not pneumonia. Three million years ago it was pneumonia but
since then it’s bred and mutated and now we don’t know what it is.
LISTER: Why didn’t I ask her out? What’s the worst she could’ve said?
RIMMER: She could’ve said, “No, you’re a filthy, stinking, loathsome,
disgusting object I wouldn’t be seen dead with in a plague pit.”
LISTER: She could’ve said, “yes.” Stranger things have happened!
RIMMER: Only two spring to mind, Lister: the spontaneous combustion of
the Mayor of Warsaw in 1546 and that incident in 12th century Burgandy
when it rained herring.
LISTER: There’s this theory that Chen used to have. It’s like everyone’s
got two people inside you. You’ve got your confidence and paranoia.
And your confidence’s the guy who goes, “Hey you’re great. You’re dead
sexy! Everybody loves you!” And your paranoia says, “You’re stupid.
You’re useless. You’re ugly. And everybody hates you.”
RIMMER: (Looking at the medicomp) That’s odd, Lister. According to this
reading, you’re clinically dead.
LISTER: And what had happened was my confidence was just about to
persuade me to ask Kochanski out and as I was walking up to her he’d go
on a business trip to Hawaii or something and I’d be left with my
paranoia saying, “You must be joking. She’s gonna laugh in our face.”
RIMMER: You know, sometimes, Lister, you can be quite perceptive and
thought-provoking. And other times, like this, you can rant and drivel
on like a complete loonie.
LISTER: Just take me to me bed.
RIMMER: All right, Lister. (To the scutter on the floor) Okay, you know
how it works. Now release the mechanism very, very, very gently.

The scutter flicks a switch and LISTER and his wheelchair zip across the
room and crash into a table.

RIMMER: Possibly a gnat’s more gently than that.

10 Int. Sleeping quarters.

LISTER is lying in bed, having an nightmare. RIMMER is standing in front
of the mirror, practising the Full-Rimmer, Triple-Rimmer, and a Two-
Handed-Rimmer salute.

LISTER: (In his sleep) Quick! Get an umbrella. Get an umbrella. Quick,
get an umbrella. Get an umbrella. Cor! Ungh…
RIMMER: (Reading from a poster tacked over the sink) “Necrobics,
Hologrammatic Exercises for the Dead.”
LISTER: It’s raining. It’s raining down. Get an umbrella! It’s
raining. It’s raining.

RIMMER clenches up his face and starts rolling his head around.
Something falls from the ceiling. Another one falls. RIMMER opens his
eyes to see herring falling from the ceiling. He stares in amazement as
more and more herring start to rain down from the ceiling. RIMMER backs
out of the room.

11 Int. Corridor 159.

RIMMER continues to back out of the room. There’s no fish falling
outside of the room.

RIMMER: Holly, what’s going on?
HOLLY: What?
RIMMER: What’s happening?
HOLLY: Um, Hercule Poirot’s just stepped off the steaming train. And if
you want my opinion, I think they all did it.
RIMMER: Why did we have to have you as the ship’s computer? We’d be
better off with a bucket of sheep’s slop running things.
HOLLY: If you’ve got a complaint, just come straight out with it. Don’t
hide behind innuendo and hyperbole.
RIMMER: Why is it raining fish in our sleeping quarters?!
HOLLY: I’d be lying if I said I knew. The only comparable incident on
record is in 12th century Burgandy when it rained herring.

The Mayor of Warsaw walks up to RIMMER, ringing a bell. He stops, then
spontaneously combusts in a flash, leaving only a pile of clothes behind.

RIMMER: It really is gonna be one of those days.

12 Model shot.

Red Dwarf in space.

13 Int. Sleeping quarters.

LISTER lying in bed. The CAT struts in with a silvery shopping bag.

CAT: Hey! You’re awake!
LISTER: Yeah, I’ve just woke up.
CAT: Yeah, well, I’ve brought you some presents!
LISTER: Aw, you shouldn’t have bothered.
CAT: Ha ha! Well, I’m that kind of guy! Hey, let’s see what we’ve got
in the magic bag here! I got you some grapes! (Holds up the bare
stems of an ex-bunch of grapes.) And I got you got you an orange!
(Holds up an orange peel.)
LISTER: Thanks a lot.
CAT: That’s all right. Hey, well, all this enormous generosity has made
me tired. I’m going to bed. (Takes LISTER’s pillow and blanket and
lies down on the bottom bunk.) Ah, yes, indeedy.

RIMMER walks in.

RIMMER: (To LISTER) You’re awake.
CAT: Yeah, but I’ll be asleep in a minute.
RIMMER: (To LISTER) How do you feel?
CAT: Fine. Just don’t ask me anymore questions. I’m trying to sleep!
RIMMER: (To the CAT) Shut up! You stupid moggey! And out of that bed!
CAT: (Getting out of bed) Well, if you’re going to speak to me like that,
I’m gonna take my presents back! (Grabs the bag and heads for the
door.)
RIMMER: (To LISTER) How do you feel?
CAT: (Walking out the room) Hurt!
LISTER: I feel great.
RIMMER: Listen, Lister, you had a fever, okay?
LISTER: Yeah?
RIMMER: And, you started to hallucinate, all right?
LISTER: Yeah?
RIMMER: Only your hallucinations… were solid.
LISTER: What do you mean, “solid?”
RIMMER: I mean they were real, alive, solid.
LISTER: Solid?
RIMMER: Solid.
LISTER: What do you mean, “they were solid?”
RIMMER: Okay, I’ll put it another way. You had hallucinations, all
right?
LISTER: Yeah?
RIMMER: And they were solid. I told you it wasn’t ordinary pneumonia. I
told you it was mutated. I knew something like this would happen.
LISTER: Okay, well, what did I hallucinate?
RIMMER: Well, first of all, it was fish rain.
LISTER: Fish rain? Yeah, I dreamt that!
RIMMER: Well, it actually happened!
LISTER: Where’s all the fish?
CAT: (Sticking his head in the door) Somebody ate them!
RIMMER: Then, the Mayor of Warsaw spontaneously combusted. And then you
hallucinated two men in the Drive Room.
LISTER: What two men?
RIMMER: Apparently, one of them’s your confidence and the other’s your
paranoia.

14 Int. Drive room.

CONFIDENCE is a bulky man in loud yellow plaids, gold chains, and slicked
back hair. He is eating a steak on the central station. PARANOIA is a
scrawny, stooped, sunken-eyed man in a black suit, sitting at a work
station, eating a yogurt and sneering at CONFIDENCE.

LISTER and RIMMER walk in.

CONFIDENCE: (Jumping up) Hey! It’s the king! (Kisses LISTER.) Mr.
Beautiful! (To RIMMER) Hey, you, what does the “H” stand for? Horace?
A chair for the king, Horace. And breakfast. Mr. Wonderful wishes to
dine. (Guiding LISTER to a chair) Have you lost weight? You’re
looking great. (To the others) Is he totally perfect or what?
LISTER: (Grinning widely) You’re my confidence?
CONFIDENCE: I just love that accent. It makes me go all quibbley!
LISTER: I don’t get it. You look like the manager of the London Jets but
you sound like Bing Baxter, the American quiz show host.
CONFIDENCE: (Smiles.) I’m all the things you associate with confidence,
King.
LISTER: (To PARANOIA) And you’re my paranoia?
PARANOIA: Isn’t that a urine stain on the front of your trousers?
LISTER: What? (Looks at this groin.) No, it isn’t. It’s tea.
PARANOIA: (Approaching LISTER) So how are you anyway? Isn’t that a huge
spot appearing on your so-called face? My god, you’ve got fat, haven’t
you? Must be all that lager. Bet you’ve got a terminal disease.
Always happens to the people who least expect it. Don’t you find that?
Say “hello,” then, won’t you? (Walking back to his seat) I’m only
trying to be friendly.

LISTER is looking decidedly worried.

CONFIDENCE: (To LISTER) Baby, baby, what can I say? (To the others) Is
he the greatest, most fantasic, most handsome guy ever, or am I insane?
RIMMER: (To CONFIDENCE) You’re insane. (To LISTER) Lister, what are you
going to do about them?
LISTER: Do? What can I do?
RIMMER: I think we should arrest them.
LISTER: What for?
RIMMER: For being hallucinations.
LISTER: Come on, smeghead. It’s a bit of company, isn’t it?
RIMMER: Lister, you’re still sick. These two are symptoms of your
disease. They’re like the spots in measles, the swellings in mumps,
the funny walk in cystitis. Until they’re gone, you won’t be better.
CONFIDENCE: Hey, now I know what the “H” stands for. “Hidiot!” Am I
right? Heh heh heh!
RIMMER: (To CONFIDENCE) You are treading on a very thin line, me laddo.
The “H” stands for “Hologram.” I happen to be dead.

I happen to be dead. Red Dwarf quote from Confidence and Paranoia
CONFIDENCE: Couldn’t happen to a more deserving guy. (To LISTER) Come
on, King. Forget those losers. Let’s go party.
RIMMER: No, I forbid it!
LISTER: Why?
PARANOIA: Why do you never listen to Mr. Rimmer? He’s so much more
experienced, more level-headed, so much… better than you.
CONFIDENCE: (Putting an arm around LISTER) Hey! No one is better than
Mr. Magnificent! And no one tells the Prince of Charisma what to do.
Right, Prince?
LISTER: (Smiling) Yeah, right!
CONFIDENCE: That’s my Davey-boy! Oohoo!

CONFIDENCE leads LISTER out of the room.

RIMMER: I don’t believe it, he’s socializing with a figment of his
imagination.
PARANOIA: Yes.

RIMMER makes a pained expression at PARANOIA’s back.

15 SFX view of space.

Lots of dust swirls around.

HOLLY: (VO) Please note the dust storm approaching. The surface of the
ship is now out of bounds. All air locks are being automatically
sealed. Estimated duration: eighteen hours.

16 Int. Sleeping quarters.

CONFIDENCE listens as LISTER strums discordantly at his guitar.

LISTER: (Singing) …our love I tried to kindle, like firelight it…
dwindled, now I wonder when this… wind’ll ever… stop—–.
CONFIDENCE: (Incredulously) You wrote that?
LISTER: Yeah, but that was ages ago, you know.
CONFIDENCE: That is the greatest love song ever.
LISTER: Come on!
CONFIDENCE: Ever! It’s so deep! All the images! The dwindling, the
kindling, all the -indling! I love all that stuff! When I think
there’s fast buck merchants like Bee-toven and Mozart out there
grabbing all the publicity and here’s you, writing pieces of that
caLEEber, it makes me feel weak.
LISTER: (Noticing CONFIDENCE is putting a cigarette butt in his pocket)
What are you doing with that cigarette butt?
CONFIDENCE: Oh, you’ve embarrassed me now. It’s just that, your lips
have touched it. Your lips! The King’s kissing lips! And I just
wanted some proof that I’d actually met the Duke of Deliciousness!
LISTER: You’re serious, aren’t you?
CONFIDENCE: Serious about what?
LISTER: I’m a nobody! Out of a hundred and sixty-nine people aboard this
ship, I ranked one-six-nine. Bottom of the pile.
CONFIDENCE: That’s because you didn’t want all that career stuff. You
wanted your farm on Fiji with you-know-who. (Holds up a Polaroid of
Kochanski.)
LISTER: If she’d’ve come.
CONFIDENCE: If? IF?! And turn down the opportunity of becoming the envy
of all womankind?
LISTER: Oh, we’ll never know now.
CONFIDENCE: Why not?
LISTER: She’s dead.
CONFIDENCE: So? So’s Rimmer. Bring her back.
LISTER: I can’t. Holly can only sustain one hologram and Rimmer’s hidden
all the other personality disks.
CONFIDENCE: So? Find them.
LISTER: I can’t.
CONFIDENCE: King. You can do anything! Anything!

17 Int. Drive room.

PARANOIA and RIMMER are talking together.

PARANOIA: …anything. He can’t do anything.
RIMMER: Oh, I know, I know. I’ll bet five.
PARANOIA: Do you know he used to practice kissing on his own?
RIMMER: How?
PARANOIA: (Demonstrating) He made lips out of one hand and waggled his
thumb through the gap, like a tongue.
RIMMER: That is priceless! It really is.
PARANOIA: Seventeen years old and he used to snog his own hand. Once, in
front of the whole school, he called his gym teacher “Daddy.”

A scutter rolls in a door behind PARANOIA, holding a syringe.

PARANOIA: I could’ve died with embarrassment.
RIMMER: (Leaning closer to PARANOIA, trying to keep him distracted) Oh,
what a silly thing to call a gym master.
PARANOIA: I’m racked with guilt. I hate him.
RIMMER: Why do you hate him? Why do you talk about him so much?
PARANOIA: Because he makes my life one big, humiliating, cringe-making,
guilt-ridden hell!
RIMMER: (Shouting to the scutter) NOW! STAB HIM! STAB HIM! STAB HIM!
QUICK! STAB HIM!

PARANOIA turns to look at the scutter which has hardly moved.

RIMMER: (To PARANOIA) Uh, you haven’t met “Stabem,” have you? He’s one
of the scutters. Stabem, meet Lister’s paranoia. Lister’s paranoia,
this is Stabem.

The scutter drops the syringe and tries to shake hands with PARANOIA.
LISTER and CONFIDENCE walk in through the opposite door.

LISTER: Yo, Rimmer, listen, we’ve been thinking. We think we can get
Kochanski back without turning you off.
PARANOIA: Oh, he’s drunk. Yes. I can smell it from here.
LISTER: All we have to do is turn off all non-essential power systems and
Holly says it’ll work.
CONFIDENCE: (Holding a lightbulb over LISTER’s head) Ding dong! Another
great idea from the people who brought you Beeeeer Milkshakes!
PARANOIA: How can you be so obsessed with a girl you hardly know?
CONFIDENCE: Hardly know, sir? You haven’t heard the “-indling” song!
(Singing) Our love I tried to kindle–
LISTER: Not now!
RIMMER: Lister, you’re not having her disk.
LISTER: Why? Because she’ll rank above you?
PARANOIA: But she’s a bright, good-looking, intelligent, witty, upwardly-
mobile officer. Why should she be interested in you?
RIMMER: Yes! Why should she be interested in you?
LISTER: Yeah, why should she be interested in me?
CONFIDENCE: Hmm? Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about that song. I
can’t get it out of my head. Why? Because you’re great! You’re an
incredibly seductive, charming, charismatic, young stud!
LISTER: Oh, yeah! I forgot. That’s why she’d be interested in me.
RIMMER: Lister, you’re not having her disk or any disk.
CONFIDENCE: Come on, King, you know Rimmer. Where would he hide ’em?
LISTER: I don’t know.
CONFIDENCE: Yes, you do.
PARANOIA: No, he doesn’t.
CONFIDENCE: Come on, think “Winner!”
LISTER: Outside. Outside the ship.
RIMMER: Uh… Wrong, actually!
CONFIDENCE: Where outside?
LISTER: Well, he’d have to send the scutters… and the disks would have
to be safe.
RIMMER: Wrong, wrong, absolutely brimming over with wrong-ability.
LISTER: And they’d have to be right under me nose he could laugh at me.
RIMMER: Wrong and getting wronger all the time.
LISTER: Outside out sleeping quarters. The solar panel outside our
sleeping quarters!
RIMMER: You followed me, you goit!
LISTER: Is that where they are?! That’s incredible! I did it!

18 Int. Medical unit.

The medicomp is smashed apart. The bits are smoking, flashing, and
making odd “broken” sounds.

RIMMER: (Walks in and sees the broken medicomp.) Lister?

19 Model shot.

Red Dwarf is going through a huge dust storm.

20 Int. Drive room. Later.

LISTER is wearing a spacesuit, holding the helmet under his arm.

LISTER: How long now, Hol?
HOLLY: Can’t be long now, Dave. Hercule has got all the suspects in one
room and I’m only too pages away from “Also by the same author.”
LISTER: No, Holly. The dust storm.
HOLLY: Oh, that. Any time now, it’s almost subsided.
CONFIDENCE: (Struts in wearing a spacesuit.) Yeah, how’s my baby boy?
Oh, look! You’ve got a body like a coat hanger! How can you make a
spacesuit look like evening wear?
RIMMER: (Walking in) Let me ask you one question?
LISTER: It’s no use arguing, Rimmer. I’m going.
RIMMER: Who smashed up the medicomp?
CONFIDENCE: He’s stalling, King. Let’s go.
RIMMER: Holly, give him a punch up.

The image of the smoldering medicomp appears on one of the monitors.

LISTER: Look, what’s in it for them, smashing up the medical unit?
RIMMER: Lister, come here. Come here. (LISTER walks up to him.
CONFIDENCE listens over LISTER’s shoulder.) You are still sick.
LISTER: I feel great.
RIMMER: You will not… (Glances at CONFIDENCE.) You will not… (Glares
at CONFIDENCE) You will not be better until they’ve gone. They know
that and now they’ve stopped you getting any treatment. Where’s
Paranoia?
CONFIDENCE: I don’t know. Is it someplace near Uruguay? Heh heh heh!
Who is this joker?
RIMMER: Lister, they’re germs and they’re dangerous.
HOLLY: The storm has passed, Dave. Airlocks are now released.
CONFIDENCE: What are we waiting for, King?
LISTER: (Looks at RIMMER.) Nothing.

LISTER and CONFIDENCE head out.

RIMMER: Holly, put a trace on Paranoia.
HOLLY: What’s a trace?

Confidence and Paranoia quotes from Red Dwarf
RIMMER: It’s space jargon. It means find him.
HOLLY: No, it doesn’t. You just made it up to be cool.
RIMMER: Where is he?
HOLLY: Paranoia is no longer aboard this ship.

21 Ext. Red Dwarf catwalk.

LISTER and CONFIDENCE are walking along a catwalk on the side of Red
Dwarf. Presumably near the sleeping quarters.

CONFIDENCE: Hey, look at that view, Kingo! Me and you, on top of the
world! Makes you wanna dance! Cha, cha cha, cha cha cha cha cha
cha,…
LISTER: (Finding the disks) Hey, here it is!
CONFIDENCE: Cha, cha cha, cha cha cha cha cha cha,…
LISTER: (Holding a disk box) Did you hear something?
CONFIDENCE: Nope. In space, no one can hear you cha-cha-cha!
LISTER: You don’t think Paranoia could’ve got here first, do you?
CONFIDENCE: Forget him, he’s no danger.
LISTER: He smashed up the medical unit.
CONFIDENCE: No, he didn’t.
LISTER: What do you mean?
CONFIDENCE: I did!
LISTER: *You* did?
CONFIDENCE: So we can be together, Davey! You don’t want to get cured.
I did it for you!
LISTER: So where did he go, then?
CONFIDENCE: I killed him. Cha-cha-cha…
LISTER: What do you mean, you “killed him, cha-cha-cha?!”
CONFIDENCE: Hey, don’t look at me like that. He didn’t suffer! I just
fed him into the waste grinder and flushed his bits into space.
LISTER: Look, I’m gonna go inside now. Gets a little bit hot, you could
get claustrophobic in these suits.
CONFIDENCE: Take your helmet off.
LISTER: (Backing away) What?!
CONFIDENCE: (Following LISTER) You’re hot. Take your helmet off.
LISTER: I’ll die!
CONFIDENCE: Why?
LISTER: There’s no oxygen out here!
CONFIDENCE: Hey! Oxygen’s for losers! Come on.
LISTER: I *need* oxygen!

LISTER has reached the end of the catwalk.

CONFIDENCE: You don’t need anything, King. You’re the King!
LISTER: You’re crazy!

LISTER grabs the handrail and vaults around behind CONFIDENCE.

CONFIDENCE: Who told you you needed oxygen, huh? Some loser who was
trying to make you feel small. Look, I’ll prove it to you. I’ll take
mine off first. We’ll soon see who the crazy one is around here!

CONFIDENCE removes his helmet.

LISTER: NO!!!

Almost immediately his body decompresses in a horrific explosion.

22 Int. Sleeping quarters.

The CAT has his clothes hung up on laundry lines around the room. RIMMER
whistles to himself.

RIMMER: Must you do this now?
CAT: I’m doing my laundry!
RIMMER: It’s totally disgusting.
CAT: What’s disgusting?

He proceeds to lick the collar of one of the shirts enthusiastically.

RIMMER: Lister.
LISTER: Yeah?
RIMMER: I just want to say, I was right all along. I said they were
germs and they were germs.
LISTER: Yeah, okay. So what?
RIMMER: And I’m just saying now, that disk will only bring you misery. I
just want you to remember that I said that.
LISTER: Look, if she comes back and she’s not interested, I can handle
it.
RIMMER: Whatever, Lister. I want it on record: that disk is a one-way
ticket to Miseryville.
LISTER: Yeah, well, I spent enough time listening to me paranoia. Now
I’m gonna listen to me confidence. (Heads out with the disk.)

RIMMER executes a Full-Rimmer salute and heads out the door, humming a
marching tune. The CAT tries out the salute, waves it off, and then
dances out of the room.

23 Int. Holo projection suite.

LISTER is standing in front of the central station, looking at the disk.

LISTER: Hi, Krissie. It’s not gonna work. Hello, Krissie. That’s not
gonna work either. (Overly macho) Hey, yo, Krissie! (High and wimpy)
Hi… (He loads the disk into the simulator.)

RIMMER and the CAT walk in.

RIMMER: Lister, look, good luck. I mean it.
LISTER: Smeg off.
RIMMER: No, honestly, I mean it. Good luck.
LISTER: Okay, Hol. Switch it on.

On the other side of the room, another hologram of RIMMER appears.

RIMMER #2: Well, he did warn you.
RIMMER: I certainly did. (To LISTER) Do you honestly think I’d put
Kochanski’s disk in Kochanski’s box where any Munchkin could find it?
You think you had it bad before, Lister? Well now you’ve got it in
stereo, baby. (To RIMMER #2) Welcome aboard, Rimmsie.
RIMMER #2: Nice to be here, Mr. Rimmer, you son of a gun.
Credits:

Rimmer Chris Barrie
Lister Craig Charles
Cat Danny John-Jules
Holly Norman Lovett
Paranoia Lee Cornes
Confidence Craig Ferguson
Written by Bob Grant Doug Naylor
Music Howard Goodall
Developed for Television by Paul Jackson Productions
Graphic Designer Mark Allen
Visual Effects Designer Peter Wragg
Prop Buyer Duncan Wheeler
Assistant Floor Manager Dona Distefano
Production Assistant Alison Thornber
Unit Manager Mario Dubois
Production Manager George R. Clarke
Costume Designer Jacki Pinks
Make-up Designer Suzanne Jansen
Vision Mixer Jill Dornan
Camera Supervisor Mike Jackson
Technical Co-ordinator John Spicer
Videotape Editor Ed Wooden
Lighting Director John Pomphrey
Sound Supervisor Tony Worthington
Designer Paul Montague
Executive Producer Paul Jackson
Producer & Director Ed Bye
MCMLXXXVII

Red Dwarf Full Script Series 1 Episode 4 Waiting For God

This is the full script for Red Dwarf Series 1 Episode 4 – Waiting For God. It’s not every day you get to talk with your God Cloister!

Cloister is God! Red Dwarf.

RED DWARF Series I Episode 4, “Waiting For God”

1 Ext. View of space.

HOLLY: (In space) This is an SOS distress call from the mining ship Red
Dwarf. The crew are dead, killed by a radiation leak. The only
survivors were Dave Lister, who was in suspended animation during the
disaster, and his pregnant cat, who was safely sealed in the hold.
Revived three million years later, Lister’s only companions are a life
form who evolved from his cat, and Arnold Rimmer, a hologram simulation
of one of the dead crew.
(Returning) The most interesting event that happened recently was that
Lister pretended he passed the chef’s exam, although really he failed.
That gives you some idea of how truly exciting some days can be around
here.

2 Int. Drive room.

RIMMER walks in.

RIMMER: Holly, give me access to the crew’s confidential reports.
HOLLY: Those are for the Captain’s eyes only, Arnold.
RIMMER: Fine. Well, we’ll give him ten seconds to come back from the
dead, and if he hasn’t managed it, we’ll presume I’m in charge.
(Waits) No, he hasn’t managed it.
HOLLY: (With resignation) Whose do you want?
RIMMER: Give me … give me Lister’s. Just the remarks.
HOLLY: David Lister, Technician, 3rd class. Captain’s remarks: “Has
requested sick leave due to diarrhea on no less than 500 occasions.
Left his previous job as a supermarket trolley attendant after ten
years because he didn’t want to get tied down to a career. Promotion
prospects: zero.”
RIMMER: I always liked Captain Hollister. Such a great reader of men,
was Captain Hollister. A marvellous, marvellous man and a tragic loss
to us all. All right, Holly, give me … give me mine.
HOLLY: Arnold Rimmer, Technician, 2nd Class. Captain’s remarks:
“There’s a saying amongst the officers: If a job’s worth doing, it’s
worth doing well. If it’s not worth doing, give it to Rimmer. He
aches for responsibility but constantly fails the engineering exam.”
RIMMER: Whoa, whoa, whoa, Holly, Holly. I want *my* report. Rimmer.
Two M’s, E, R.
HOLLY: “Astoundingly zealous. Possibly mad. Probably has more teeth
than brain cells. Promotion prospects: comical.”
RIMMER: No no no no no, Holly. I want *Rimmer*. That’s two R’s, one at
the front, one at the back.
HOLLY: Arnold, this *is* your report.
RIMMER: I always hated that pus-head Hollister. He always resented my
popularity. That’s why he never put forward my proposal to reduce the
minimum haircut length by an eighth of an inch. Small-minded, petty-
thinking modo.
HOLLY: Arnold, I’m picking up an unidentified object.
RIMMER: Constantly fails the exam? I’d hardly call eleven times
“constantly.” I mean, if you eat roast beef eleven times in your life,
one would hardly say that person constantly eats roast beef. No, it
would be a rare, nay, freak occurrence. Possibly mad? What is he
dribbling about?
HOLLY: It’s on the screen, Arnold.
RIMMER: What is?
HOLLY: The U.O.
RIMMER: What is it?
HOLLY: I don’t know.
RIMMER: Well, you’d better find out, hadn’t you? It’s obviously beyond
me. I’ve got more teeth than brain cells, remember? (Leaves in a
huff.)
HOLLY: (After he’s gone) Yes, you have.

3 Int. Sleeping quarters.

LISTER is lying on his bunk, eating crisps and making a mess. He’s
sniffing noisily at a book marked CAT DICTIONARY.

TOASTER: Would you like some toast?
LISTER: Uh-Uhm.
TOASTER: Some nice hot crisp brown buttered toast?
LISTER: Uh-Uhm.
TOASTER: You don’t want any toast then?
LISTER: No.
TOASTER: What about a muffin?
LISTER: Nothing!
TOASTER: You know the last time you had toast? 18 days ago. 11:36,
Tuesday the 3rd. Two rounds.
LISTER: Ssshhh!
TOASTER: I mean, what’s the point of buying a toaster with artificial
intelligence if you don’t like toast?
LISTER: I *do* like toast!
TOASTER: I mean, this is my job! This is cruel! Just cruel!
LISTER: Look, I’m busy!
TOASTER: Oh, you’re not busy eating toast, are you?
LISTER: I don’t want any!!
TOASTER: I mean, the whole purpose of my existence is to serve you with
hot, buttered, scrummy toast. If you don’t want any, then my existence
is meaningless.
LISTER: Good.
TOASTER: I toast, therefore I am.
LISTER: Will you shut up?!

He goes back to sniffing his way through the book. RIMMER enters.

RIMMER: What are you doing?!
LISTER: I’m reading.
RIMMER: What? With your nose?
LISTER: Yeah. It’s a Cat book. They don’t use marks, they use smells.
You run your nose along the line and all the different smells are
released. It’s really good.
RIMMER: What a pathetic idea.
LISTER: Well, unlike you, Rimmer, my mind is open to new cultures, and
new ways of looking at and doing things.
RIMMER: And what does it say?
LISTER: It says, (reads as he smells along the pages) “See [sniff] Dick
[sniff] run. [sniff] Run, [sniff] Dick, [sniff] run. [sniff] Run
[sniff sniff sniff] home [sniff] Dick.”
RIMMER: That’s the Cat equivalent of Shakespeare, is it?
LISTER: Shakespeare? Who’s Shakespeare?
RIMMER: You moron. A playwright in the olden days. Wilfred Shakespeare.
LISTER: I’m only just starting out. This is for three year olds, so you
should try it.
RIMMER: I’m not the slightest bit interested in smelling anything cats
have to say, thank you, Lister.
LISTER: You don’t know what you’re missing. Rimmer, there’s this
brilliant one where Dick buys this ball, this big ball, this big red
ball. It’s amazing stuff.
RIMMER: You ought to try reading your shirt sometime, Lister. It’s
probably a novel by Victor Hugo. Anyway, if you’re interested, Holly’s
spotted… Is that my shirt?!
LISTER: Yeah. I borrowed it.
RIMMER: What’s that down the front?
LISTER: (Checking the various stains) That’s definitely biscuit, um,
that’s custard, that’s definitely ink, and just general sort of dirty
marks.
RIMMER: You can’t just go through my possessions!
LISTER: Come on, you don’t need them any more.
RIMMER: Because I’m dead?
LISTER: Yeah. You’re a hologram, and holograms don’t need clothes.
RIMMER: They’re my things, Lister! Would you steal verruca cream from a
man with no feet? I mean, how would you like it if I stole your T-
shirt? Your favourite one, with the custard stains down the front?
LISTER: I wouldn’t care.
RIMMER: You’ve got no right to go through my wardrobe.
LISTER: OK, OK. You keep your underpants on coathangers, don’t ya?
RIMMER: That’s private!
LISTER: OK, Rimmer, OK. Take the shirt back.
RIMMER: I don’t want it. It’s ruined. You’ve *sweated* in it.
LISTER: Well, if you don’t want the shirt, what do you want, Rimmer?
RIMMER: Just keep out of my things, all right?
LISTER: OK, OK. What’s Holly spotted?
RIMMER: An unidentified object.
LISTER: You mean a rock.
RIMMER: It might not be.
LISTER: They’re always rocks.
RIMMER: Mostly they’re rocks, I agree, but maybe this one’s different.
LISTER: Rimmer, there’s nothing out there, you know. There’s nobody out
there. No alien monsters, no Zargon warships, no beautiful blondes
with beehive hairdos who say, “Show me some more of this Earth thing
called kissing.” There’s just you, me, the Cat, and a lot of floating
smegging rocks. That’s it. Finito.
RIMMER: Lister, if there’s no one out there, what’s the point in
existence? Why are we here?
TOASTER: Beats me. Do you want some toast?
HOLLY: Arnold, the unidentified object is now in visual range.
RIMMER: (Executing a Full-Rimmer salute) All right, Holly. I’m on my
way.

RIMMER marches out. LISTER tries to imitate the salute, and clouts
himself a painful one on the forehead.

4 Int. Corridor.

CAT climbs out of a ventilation shaft and does a somersault.

CAT: Aaaoooww! Nice jump. Heeyyy! Smooth with a capital smoo. OK.
Time to get out the food detector. (Reaches inside his jacket and
pulls out an imaginary food detector) Food … this way. Aaaooowww …
ooohhh … yeah yeah…

And so on. Eventually he runs into RIMMER.

RIMMER: Ah. You. Where have you been?
CAT: Investigating. Investigating this, investigating that. General
investigation.
RIMMER: General investigation, eh?
CAT: Yeah.
RIMMER: Ahhhh, splendid!
CAT: Thank you.
RIMMER: Keep it up.
CAT: OK.
RIMMER: Fine. Well, ah, if you’ll just excuse me.
CAT: Hey! You can’t have my shiny thing! I found it, it’s my shiny
thing.
RIMMER: What are you dribbling about?
CAT: (Pulls out a silver yo-yo) This is my shiny thing, and if you try
and take it off me, I may have to eat you.
RIMMER: It’s a yo-yo, you modo.
CAT: It does two amazing things. One, you have the shiny thing at the
top, and the string down below, or, and this is the clever part, you
have the string at the top, and the shiny thing down here where the
string used to be.
RIMMER: Yeah … woweeee! You haven’t the slightest clue what it’s for,
do you?
CAT: Why sure I do, grease stain. You hold the shiny thing in one hand,
and you go … aaaooowww! The string’s moving! Hey! Stop that thing!
Catch that string! Aaaooowww!

RIMMER wanders off, leaving the CAT playing with his shiny thing.

5 Int. Drive room.

RIMMER enters.

RIMMER: Where is it?
HOLLY: (VO) It’s in scoop range, Arnold.

Several monitors show wire-frame views of a cylindrical object tumbling
through space.

RIMMER: It’s a pod! Holly, bring it in!

He dashes madly off.

6 Int. Sleeping quarters.

LISTER is sitting on his bunk. CAT enters, carrying a book and waving
his yo-yo around.

CAT: Yeah, yeah, yeah! I’m back! Feeling good! (To LISTER) Feed me.
LISTER: Cat, hi. I haven’t seen you for ages. Where have you been?
CAT: Investigating.
LISTER: Got you some crispies.
CAT: Yeah, yeah, yeah!
LISTER: I read the book you gave me, you know. It’s got a brilliant
ending. I could hardly believe me nose.
CAT: Oh, forget that. Got you this. The one you asked about. The Holy
Book.
LISTER: Oh, great! (Opens the book and begins to run his nose across
it.) Hey! Pictures!
CAT: Yeah! That’s a Cat thing. You see, sometimes, in a book, we have a
drawing of something that is happening in the story, and we call them
“pictures.”
LISTER: Yeah, yeah, we have pictures too.
CAT: Hey, you monkeys are smarter than I thought.
LISTER: This is me!

The picture depicts a noble-looking individual, vaguely resembling
Lister, wearing biblical-style robes and carrying a black cat (an
ordinary cat, not a humanoid cat) on his shoulder. Above his head is a
doughnut-shaped halo.

CAT: No, that’s not you, that’s Cloister. He was the father of the Cat
people. He lived years ago, at the Beginning.
LISTER: (Turns the page) Who’s that?

The next picture shows the same guy (without the cat) sitting lotus-style
inside what seems to be a giant ice cube.

CAT: That’s him frozen in time.
LISTER: No, that’s *me*! I was sent into stasis. That’s what “frozen in
time” is.
CAT: He did that to save Frankenstein.
LISTER: Look, Frankenstein was my pet cat! (Points back and forth
between himself and the picture) Look, Lister, Cloister. Cloister,
Lister! See?
CAT: Listen, you stupid monkey, Cloister’s another name for … for God!
LISTER: That’s what I’m saying! I am your God!

Waiting for God Red Dwarf

CAT looks LISTER up and down. He’s not impressed. (Well, who would be?)

CAT: OK. (Points to his bowl of crispies) Turn this into a woman.
LISTER: I’m serious.
CAT: So am I!
LISTER: Look, Frankenstein was my pet cat, right? And she was pregnant.
Now, I got put into suspended animation. I was supposed to be there
for 18 months, but I didn’t get out for three million years.
CAT: You oversleep? So do I.
LISTER: No! What I’m saying is that over those three million years, your
entire race of people evolved from my pet cat.
CAT: Ah, I gotta go now, man. But let’s do lunch sometime. I’ll put it
in my diary: 12:30, lunch with God. And, ah, formal dress, you know
what I’m saying?
LISTER: It is true, you know.
CAT: Yeah? Then I gotta ask you the ultimate question. If you’re God,
why that face?
LISTER: What’s wrong with me face?
CAT: What’s wrong with your face? It’s upside down and inside out,
that’s what’s wrong with it. Aaaooowww! (Leaves the room.)
LISTER: Holly?
HOLLY: Yes, Dave?
LISTER: If I give you my Cat dictionary, can you translate this for me?
HOLLY: Oh, I’ll give it a go, Dave.
TOASTER: Why are you always asking him? I’ll do it.
LISTER: You’re a toaster.
TOASTER: Yeah, I was thinking of packing it in. It’s turning me into
something I don’t like. I’m not a moaner by nature, you know.
LISTER: No, by nature you’re a toaster.
TOASTER: Yeah, it just strikes me that there might be something more.
Something greater. Something unimaginably more splendid than heating
bread.

RIMMER dashes in, very excited.

RIMMER: Lister, it’s arrived!
LISTER: What has?
RIMMER: The U.O.! It’s a pod!
LISTER: Where?
RIMMER: The observation room.
LISTER: Yes! (Dashes off.)
RIMMER: (Calling after him) Ah, no point in running, Lister. It’s mine.
I found it. I’ve got bagsies. (To himself) He’s such a child, that
boy. (Suddenly he sprints off after LISTER.)

7 Int. Observation room.

LISTER is peering through a window at the pod, which is in an isolation
chamber. It’s black, with some illegible red markings, and covered in
dust. A monitor show’s HOLLY’s face.

LISTER: Is it safe, Holly?
HOLLY: Yes, Dave.

RIMMER dashes in.

RIMMER: Lister, no point in running. I found it and it’s mine.
LISTER: Calm down. Dead people can have heart attacks too, you know.
What is it?
RIMMER: I don’t know. It’s obviously some sort of alien capsule, and
clearly they’re intelligent, Lister. Ah, the chance to meet an
intelligent life form, after 18 weeks alone with you.
LISTER: OK, Mr. Intelligence, what are those markings?
RIMMER: I don’t know. I don’t speak alien, you gimboid.

Behind his back. LISTER goes to the door of the isolation chamber and
enters it. Eventually RIMMER notices.

RIMMER: What are you doing, Lister? We don’t know if it’s safe! It’s
quarantined! You might get some squiggly, slimy thing stuck to your
face!
LISTER: (From inside the chamber, looking out through the window at
RIMMER) Of course it’s safe. Come in, come on, come in. Ahh–

Contorted in agony, he presses his face to the window. Gasping for air,
he slides down the window, leaving a trail of saliva. Ugh.

RIMMER: Ha ha ha. Tee hee. All right, Lister, we’ll play it your way.
But don’t think you’re coming out of there! You’re in there for a
month. You’re in quarantine.
LISTER: (Opening the door and stepping out) What did you say, Rimmer?
RIMMER: Why do you never do what I tell you? Don’t you think there’s a
shining good reason why I’m your superior?
LISTER: Yeah. You’ve been with the company for 15 years–
RIMMER: No it’s not.
LISTER: –And I’ve been with them for eight months.
RIMMER: No it’s not. It’s because I’m better than you. Better trained,
better equipped, better … better! Just, just better.
LISTER: That must mean the rest of the crew are better than you then.
RIMMER: No it doesn’t! It means … I’m not going to let you bait me,
Lister. This is far too important. Just you wait here, keep that door
closed till I get back with the skutters. Tyke.

RIMMER leaves. LISTER, ignoring his orders, goes back into the chamber
to have another look at the pod.

LISTER: Oh, Rimmer, he’s such a smeghead, man. (Looks at the markings)
Hang on a minute!

He brushes some of the dust off them, and begins to complete broken
letters by writing in the dust with his finger.

LISTER: Give me an R, give me an E, give me a D … give me a Red Dwarf
Garbage Pod! Holly? Did Rimmer never work in waste disposal?
HOLLY: No, Dave.
LISTER: It’s one of our Red Dwarf garbage pods with, like, the writing
burnt off in places. Why didn’t you tell him?
HOLLY: Well, it’s a laugh, innit?

LISTER gleefully picks up a handful of dust and scatters it over the pod
to obscure the writing again.

8 Ext. Red Dwarf in space.

RIMMER: (VO) After intensive investigation, comma, of the markings on the
alien pod, comma, it has become clear, comma, to me, comma, that we are
dealing, comma, with a species of awesome intellect, colon.
HOLLY: Good. Perhaps they might be able to give you a hand with your
punctuation.
RIMMER: Shut up.

9 Int. Sleeping quarters.

LISTER is snoring on the top bunk, RIMMER sitting on the bottom one.

RIMMER: Lights!

The lights come on.

RIMMER: Lister, are you awake? Lister? Lister? (Stands up and shouts
in LISTER’s ear) *LISTER!!!!!*

LISTER sits bolt upright.

RIMMER: Are you awake?
LISTER: Yeah, yeah.
RIMMER: Yeah, I couldn’t sleep either. The excitement!
LISTER: What excitement?
RIMMER: The alien excitement!
LISTER: Rimmer, it’s garbage.
RIMMER: You can scoff, Lister. That’s nothing new. They laughed at
Galileo. They laughed at Edison. They laughed at Columbo.
LISTER: Who’s Columbo?
RIMMER: The man with the dirty mac who discovered America.
LISTER: What makes you think these aliens exist?
RIMMER: They must do, Lister! There’s so many things that are strange
and odd. So many things we don’t have any explanation for.
LISTER: Like, um, why do intelligent people buy cinema hot dogs? Do you
mean that sort of weird and mysterious thing?
RIMMER: No, Lister, I mean like the pyramids. How did they move such
massive pieces of stone without the aid of modern technology?
LISTER: They had massive whips, Rimmer. Massive, massive whips.
RIMMER: All right, then, the Bermuda Triangle. Go on, explain that one.
You know all the answers.
LISTER: No, I agree there. That is a genuine mystery. How did a song
like that ever become a hit? It defies all reason.
RIMMER: I just don’t know why I bother. I’d get more sense out of a
squashed hedgehog. Lister, don’t you ever stop and wonder: why are we
here? What’s the grand purpose?
LISTER: Why does it have to be such a big deal? Why can’t it be like,
like, human beings are a planetary disease? Like the Earth’s got
German measles or facial herpes, right? And that’s why all of the
other planets give us such a wide berth. It’s like, “Oh, don’t go near
Earth! It’s got human beings on it, they’re contagious!”
RIMMER: So you’re saying, Lister, you’re an intergalactic, pus-filled
cold sore! At last, Lister, we agree on something.
LISTER: What do you believe in, then? Do you believe in God?
RIMMER: God? Certainly not! What a preposterous thought! I believe in
aliens, Lister.
LISTER: Oh, right, fine. Something sensible at last.
RIMMER: Aliens, Lister, with technology so far in advance of our own we
can’t even begin to imagine.
LISTER: Well, that’s not difficult. Mankind hasn’t even got the
technology to create a toupee that doesn’t get big laughs.
RIMMER: Aliens, Lister, who can give me a real body.
LISTER: Ooohhh, I can’t wait to see your face in the morning, I really
can’t.
RIMMER: And nor I yours, Lister. When that pod opens and from it emerges
a beautiful alien woman with long green hair and six breasts.
LISTER: Six breasts?! Imagine making love to a woman with six breasts!
RIMMER: Imagine making love to a woman!

10 Int. Drive room.

LISTER enters, yawning, and goes over to the food machine.

DISPENSER: Good morning. How can I help you?
LISTER: Bonjourno. Um, give me breakfast.
DISPENSER: What would you like?
LISTER: Uh … chicken vindaloo … and a milkshake.
DISPENSER: What flavour milkshake?
LISTER: Um … beer.

Beer flavoured milkshake

The dispenser produces a food container and a glass of some brownish
liquid.

HOLLY: Morning, Dave. I’ve finished your translation.
LISTER: Who’s Cloister? Is it me?
HOLLY: Yes, Dave. The Cats have made you their God.
LISTER: Hey! Working class kid makes good!
HOLLY: Your plan to buy a farm on Fiji and open up a hot dog and doughnut
diner has become their image of heaven.
LISTER: What?

HOLLY displays a picture from the Holy Book, showing the noble, biblical,
sort-of-Lister standing on a mountaintop, reading a scroll to the black
cat. HOLLY reads from the book in voice-over.

HOLLY: “And Cloister spake, `Lo, I shall lead you to Fyushal, and there
we shall open a temple of food, wherein shall be sausages and doughnuts
and all manner of bountiful things.

The picture changes to one showing the pseudo-Lister standing in front of
a sausage and doughnut cart on a beach, with palm trees.

HOLLY: “`Yea, even individual sachets of mustard. And those who serve
shall have hats of great majesty, yea, though they be made of coloured
cardboard and have humorous arrows through the top.'”
LISTER: Does it say what happened to the rest of the Cats?
HOLLY: Holy wars. There were thousands of years of fighting, Dave,
between the two factions.
LISTER: What two factions?
HOLLY: Well, the ones who believed the hats should be red, and the ones
who believed the hats should be blue.

Another picture, showing the holy wars. It looks like a scene from the
Bayeaux Tapestry. Incidentally, the artist stuffed it up — both sides
are wearing red hats!

LISTER: Do you mean they had a war over whether the doughnut diner hats
were red or blue?
HOLLY: Yeah. Most of them were killed fighting about that. It’s daft
really, innit?
LISTER: You’re not kidding. They were supposed to be green.

11 Int. Corridor.

LISTER is walking along.

LISTER: Go on, Hol.
HOLLY: Well, finally they called a truce, and built two arks and left Red
Dwarf in search of Fyushal.
LISTER: But there’s no such place as Fyushal. It’s Fiji. I mean, how
are they supposed to find it?
HOLLY: “And Cloister gave to Frankenstein the sacred writing, saying,
`Those who have wisdom will know its meaning.’ And it was written thus:
`Seven socks, one shirt–‘”
LISTER: That’s my laundry list! I lined the cat’s basket with me laundry
list!
HOLLY: The Blue Hats thought it was a star chart leading to the promised
land.
LISTER: Well it wasn’t, it was my dirty washing.

12 Int. Sleeping quarters.

LISTER arrives in his quarters.

LISTER: What happened next, Hol?
HOLLY: “And the ark that left first followed the sacred signs, and lo,
they flew straight into an asteroid.

Another picture. This one shows red Dwarf in space, with two arks (they
look like boats with rocket engines stuck on the back) leaving it in
different directions.

HOLLY: “And the righteous in the second ark flew ever onward, knowing
they were indeed righteous.”
LISTER: This is terrible. Holy wars. Killing. They’re just using
religion as an excuse to be extremely crappy to each other.
TOASTER: So, what else is new?

13 Int. Observation room.

RIMMER is directing the two skutters, who are drawing complicated
diagrams and writing long reports about the pod. LISTER enters.

RIMMER: I’m not interested.
LISTER: And they killed each other over which coloured cardboard hat to
wear.
RIMMER: I’m not interested.
LISTER: But don’t you think it’s amazing?
RIMMER: Nope.
LISTER: You know what happened to people who didn’t eat hot dogs on
Fyushal Day? They were stoned to death by stale doughnuts.
RIMMER: Lister, what do you want me to say? “Congratulations, you’re
God?”
LISTER: I’m talking about the suffering. People died, I mean cats died,
Cat people died.
RIMMER: You’ve just come here to rub my nose in it. I could have been
God, you know, given a different start in life, given the lucky show-
biz break you had.
LISTER: I don’t want to be a god. That’s the point.
RIMMER: Oh, vomitisation! I don’t believe it! “I’m God, but it’s a bit
of a drag, actually?” Come on!
LISTER: I’m not a god! I’ve just been … misquoted.
RIMMER: Lister, for my money, anyone who goes around reading meaning into
any old gobbledygook deserves everything they get.
LISTER: I mean, if I’d had eight socks on my laundry list instead of
seven, or if I owned more than one pair of underpants, they might have
been safe. I just wish I could meet them and explain and apologise.
RIMMER: Well, that would look spectacular, wouldn’t it, Lister? God
returns in all his splendour, and says, “Sorry, it’s all been a total
cock-up!”
LISTER: I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to become their God.
RIMMER: Well, I didn’t ask to be killed, Lister. Life’s a bitch. Now
smeg off, I’m busy.
LISTER: I mean, they just made stuff up, you know. I’m supposed to have
given them five sacred laws. Five sacred laws! I’ve broken four of
them meself. I’d have broken the fifth, but there’s no sheep on board.
RIMMER: Bye-bye.
LISTER: I mean, Rimmer, what sort of Holy Writ is this, Rimmer: “It is a
sin to be cool.”
RIMMER: (Suddenly loses his temper) Look, I’m sick of hearing about these
stupid cats! My concerns are slightly more meaningful than what
coloured stupid smegging cardboard hat I’m wearing! I’m trying to
decipher this! This is science, laddie! You can smirk, Lister, but I
believe the Quagaars–
LISTER: Quagars?
RIMMER: Quagaaaars! It’s a name I made up! Double A, actually! I
believe the Quagaars have the technology to give me a new body!
LISTER: Never mind this tot, where’s the Cat?
RIMMER: Tot?
LISTER: Tot!
RIMMER: Tot?
LISTER: Tot!
RIMMER: Tot?!
LISTER: Tot!!
RIMMER: Tot?!!
LISTER: Tot!! (Leaves.)
RIMMER: (Shouting after him) We’ll soon see how totty it is, laddie, the
quarantine period’s nearly up! Bastard!

14 Int. Corridor.

LISTER is riding his 3-wheeler.

LISTER: Cat? *Cat!* (Toots his horn.) Holly, where’s the Cat?
HOLLY: He’s no longer in my supervision field, Dave.
LISTER: He’s gone down to the cargo decks.
HOLLY: I lost him as he entered supply pipe 28.

LISTER gets off his bike and shouts down a ventilation shaft.

LISTER: Cat? *Cat!*

15 Int. Another corridor.

LISTER: Cat! Come on, kitty, kitty! Meow … meow … come on, kitty
… come on, Cat, the crispies are getting warm … come on, Cat…

16 Int. Cargo hold.

Everything is covered in dust and cobwebs. There’s an improvised altar
(a filing cabinet with some cat figurines and candles on top), a big
statue of Cloister (wearing a doughnut on his head), and a bed, on which
an old, blind Cat priest wearing red robes and hat (complete with arrow)
lies. The other CAT (the one we know) is there too.

CAT: Aaaooowww, yeah yeah yeah yeah, (to the figurines on the altar) Hey
fellas! Yes sir, I’m back! Feeling good! (To the priest) Feed me.
PRIEST: You’re always leaving me! Where do you go?
CAT: Investigating! See, I have these feet–
PRIEST: I’m dying.
CAT: I’m telling you about my feet! My investigating feet.
PRIEST: Don’t you hear me?! I’m dying.
CAT: Yeah. But I’m telling you about my feet.
PRIEST: Oh, why should you listen to me, a blind old priest that’s lost
his faith.
CAT: I’m not listening to you. I’m trying to tell you about my feet.
PRIEST: What do you care?
CAT: I don’t care! You’re the one who’s doing the dying, not me. Why
should I let it spoil my evening?

17 Int. Corridor.

The corridor is dusty and cobwebby. LISTER is still looking for the CAT.

LISTER: Cat? … Cat?

He pushes on a grille marked “Supply Pipe 28” and falls through it.

LISTER: (Picking himself up) Oohh. Cat, when I get you I’m going to turn
you into a kebab. Holly? Can you still hear me?

No answer.

LISTER: Cat…?

18 Int. Cargo cathedral.

PRIEST: Here. (Takes his hat off.) Burn the sacred hat.
CAT: That’s a fearsome hat.
PRIEST: Burn it, burn it! It’s a symbol of the lies.

The CAT takes the hat and puts it on. Meanwhile, LISTER’s face appears
at a window.

CAT: It’s burnt.
PRIEST: All my life I’ve served a lie. Because you’re not there,
Cloister, are you? You’ve never been there! YOU DON’T EXIST!

In the antechamber, LISTER has grabbed one of the golden doughnuts off
the head of a statue of Cloister and put it on his own head. As the
priest shouts his disbelief, LISTER pushes open the doors.

PRIEST: Who’s that?
LISTER: It is I, Cloister!
PRIEST: (To CAT) Who is it, boy?
LISTER: I told you, it’s me, Cloister. I’ve returned from the dead.
PRIEST: Is it him? Is it truly him? Does he look like a king?

LISTER quickly grabs one of the giant golden sausages that line the
entrance and holds it threateningly over CAT.

CAT: A king? Yeah, yeah!
PRIEST: Is he wearing the doughnut and the golden sausage?
CAT: Yeah, yeah!
PRIEST: Then it truly is him! Oh, I’ve failed you, Cloister. All these
years I kept my faith. I wore the Holy Custard Stain and the Scared
Gravy Marks.

LISTER suddenly realises that the priest’s robe bears the same stains as
his own T-shirt.

PRIEST: I renounced coolness, and chose the righteous path of slobbiness.
But in the end, I failed you.
LISTER: Why didn’t you go on the arks with the rest of the Cats?
PRIEST: They left us behind. The sick and the lame. Left us to die.
But then the boy was born to the cripple and the idiot.
CAT: What idiot?
PRIEST: Your father, boy.
CAT: My father was a jelly-brain?
PRIEST: Yes, that’s why he ate his own feet.
CAT: I did wonder.
PRIEST: But, as one by one we died, my faith died also. You tested me,
Cloister, and I failed you.
LISTER: Oh, no. You didn’t fail, old man. You passed! I’m giving you
… I’m giving you an A+ distinction.
PRIEST: You … you mean there’s a place for me on Fyushal?
LISTER: A place? Got your own bathroom, own suite, cork floors, your own
barbecue on the patio, double glazing, a phone, everything!
PRIEST: (Horrified) My hat! I’ve burned my sacred hat!
LISTER: No you haven’t! (Grabs it off of CAT’s head and replaces it on
the priest’s.)
PRIEST: A miracle! (Tries to stand up.) This is the happiest day of my
— uh — aaahhh–

The priest suddenly collapses back on the bed, as dead as some doodoo.
LISTER sits down, appalled. CAT puts his arm around Lister’s shoulders.

CAT: Did I ever tell you about my feet? My investigating feet? Once
upon a time, there was an old man…

19 Model Shot.

Red Dwarf in space.

20 Int. Observation room.

RIMMER watches eagerly as LISTER prepares to open the pod.

LISTER: Well? Are you ready for this, Rimmer?
RIMMER: Open it! Open it!

LISTER opens a hatch in the pod.

RIMMER: Well? What’s there?
LISTER: Are you *sure* you’re ready for this, Rimmer?
RIMMER: Yes, come on, you gimboid!

LISTER reaches into the pod, and pulls out a plucked chicken, somewhat
the worse for having spent god and/or Cloister knows how long in a
garbage pod. LISTER holds the chicken well away from his face, and holds
his nose.

RIMMER: Incredible! A stupendous moment in my own personal history! The
perfectly preserved remains of a Quagaar warrior!
LISTER: Yeah, right, Rimmer. Absolutely.
RIMMER: They must have looked something like … a roast chicken.
(Eventually a slightly puzzled expression appears on his face.)

Cut to end credits. At one point, the music stops and the picture
freezes.

RIMMER: (VO) It’s a garbage pod!

Resume music and pictures. After a bit, they stop again.

RIMMER: IT’S A SMEGGING GARBAGE POD!!

Red Dwarf Series I Episode 3 – Balance of Power Full Script

Here is the full script for Red Dwarf Series 1, Episode 3 – Balance of Power. Remember, there were 4,691 irradiated haggis!

You've got the brains of diarrhoea and the breeding of a maggot - Classic quote from Red Dwarf

RED DWARF Series I Episode 3, “Balance of Power”

1 Ext. View of space.

HOLLY: (In space) This is an SOS distress call from the mining ship Red Dwarf. The crew are dead, killed by a radiation leak. The only
survivors were Dave Lister, who was in suspended animation during the disaster, and his pregnant cat, who was safely sealed in the hold.
Revived three million years later, Lister’s only companions are a life
form who evolved from his cat, and Arnold Rimmer, a hologram simulation of one of the dead crew.
(Returning) In the 3 million years we’ve been away, it is my fond hope
that mankind has abolished war, cured all disease, and gotten rid of those little western saloon doors you get in trendy clothes shops.

2 Int. Drive room.

RIMMER is standing, LISTER sitting with his feet up on a console. He’s checking things off on a clipboard as RIMMER lists them.

Red Dwarf Series 1 Episode 3 Balance of Power

RIMMER: 140,000 rehydratable chickens.
LISTER: (Extremely bored) Check.
RIMMER: 72 tons of reconstituted sausage pate.
LISTER: Check.
RIMMER: 4,691 irradiated haggis.
LISTER: Oh, Rimmer, it’s Saturday night. I’ve had enough.
RIMMER: 4,691 irradiated haggis.
LISTER: Rimmer, it’s Saturday night! I want to boogie on down!
RIMMER: 4,691 irradiated haggis.
LISTER: We’ve been doing this for four hours! Let’s have a break!
RIMMER: 4,691 irradiated hag-g-gis.
LISTER: Rimmer, will you stop saying 4,981 irradiated haggis and speak to
me!
RIMMER: 4,691 irradiated haggis.
LISTER: (Beginning to lose his temper) Rimmer, I want to go for a
*drink*!
RIMMER: 4,691 irradiated haggis!
LISTER: I want to have some fun!
RIMMER: This *is* fun! Are you mad?
LISTER: You read something out. I say check. Where’s the fun?
RIMMER: All right. We’ll put you in command for a few seconds,
Capitaine. (Salutes.) What’s the plan, sir? Come on, lickety split.
LISTER: Go back to Earth.
RIMMER: And in the meantime?
LISTER: I don’t know, generally slob around, have a few laughs.
RIMMER: Excellent plan, Lister! *Excellent* plan! Brilliant plan!
There was me thinking you hadn’t thought about it, when clearly you
have. Right, I’ll just stand over here and laugh slobbily, shall I?
LISTER: Rimmer, I’m going for a drink. Gimme me cigarettes.
RIMMER: I only owe you four and three quarters.
LISTER: You owe me five!
RIMMER: It’s one cigarette for each day you obey me.
LISTER: Well, there you go. Five days, five cigarettes.
RIMMER: Ah, but I’m penalising you a quarter of a cigarette for saying
“check” in a variety of silly voices while doing the homogenised
puddings.
LISTER: Well, I’m taking five.
RIMMER: You take five, Lister, I’ll eject the rest of the ship’s stock
into space.
LISTER: Ha-ha-ha-ha! So they’re somewhere near an airlock?
RIMMER: Ha-ha-ha-ha. You’ll never find them, Lister. I was always a
master at hide and seek as a child. It’s not a gift you lose.
LISTER: (Resignedly tearing the end off a cigarette) OK, quark brain.
RIMMER: Even it out. Take out the flaky bits.
LISTER: Oh, I really, really hate you, Rimmer. (Walks out.)
RIMMER: Have a lovely, lovely time, Lister. Give my regards to the air.

3 Int. Corridor.

LISTER is riding his 3-wheeler down a corridor. He stops outside their
quarters and enters.

4 Int. Sleeping quarters.

LISTER: Lights.

The lights come on.

LISTER: Holly, why Rimmer’s hologram? Why did you have to bring Rimmer’s
hologram back? He was the most unpopular man on board this ship. I
mean, he even had to organise his own surprise birthday parties.
HOLLY: (Voice only) And who should I have brought back, then?
LISTER: Anyone. Chen. Petersen. I mean, Hermann Gerring would have
been more of a laugh than Rimmer. I mean, OK, he was a drug-crazed
transvestite, but at least we could have gone dancing!
HOLLY: (On monitor screen) I brought Rimmer back because he’s the best
person to keep you sane.
LISTER: Oh, crap!

A panel on the wall swings around to reveal a toilet. A sign over the
toilet reads, “NOW IRRADIATE YOUR HANDS.”

LISTER: Not you!
TOILET: I *do* apologise, I wasn’t paying attention. See you later.
LISTER: What about Kristine Kochanski? You could have brought Kristine
back.
HOLLY: In your entire life, your shared conversations with her totalled
173 words.
LISTER: So?
HOLLY: In terms of wordage, you actually had a better relationship with
your rubber plant.
LISTER: I know, but *Rimmer*?!
HOLLY: He’s the person you knew best. Over 14 million words in all.
LISTER: Holly, 7 million of those were me telling him to smeg off, and
the other 7 million were him putting me on report for telling him to
smeg off.
HOLLY: Jean Paul Sartre said hell was being locked forever in a room with
your friends.
LISTER: Holly, all his mates were French.

He leaves the room.

5 Model shot.

Red Dwarf.

6 Int. Mess hall.

LISTER is sitting alone, sipping a drink. The scene fades to the past —
a party. LISTER and three of his friends are sitting at the table
drinking, while others dance around them. A sign on the wall reads
“NOSTALGIA NIGHT 1990s.”

LISTER and his friends, PETERSEN, SELBY, and CHEN are playing a rhythmic
word game.

PETERSEN: I’ve been to Titan, I’ve been to Juno, I can name eight things
that go in jars that you know! Pickles!
SELBY: Jam!
CHEN: Spaghetti!
LISTER: Brains!

CHEN yells and everyone stops.

SELBY: What? In jars?
LISTER: My uncle’s brain’s in a jar. It’s really sad.
CHEN: Why is it sad?
LISTER: He’s not dead yet.
PETERSEN: Right, everybody’s punished. Finish your drinks.

They all scull their drinks, and are still horsing around when RIMMER
approaches through the crowd.

RIMMER: Excuse me, please. Could you please excuse me? Some of us have
more important things to do than wiggle our posteriors. Could you move
please? Please? Thank you. Could you move? Excuse me, please.
Excuse me. Excuse me, please. Excuse me!

He runs into KOCHANSKI, who drops her purse. RIMMER picks it up and
throws it away.

RIMMER: If you want to dance, do it over there. (Calling in the
direction he threw the purse) Sorry.

He continues walking towards LISTER’s table. LISTER watches KOCHANSKI go
fetch her purse and sit down with her friend.

CHEN: That woman’s out of your league. She’s just too classy for you.
LISTER: Who is?
CHEN: Kochanski.
LISTER: I’ve got no big thing about Kochanski.
CHEN: Stick to your usual type. Women with little wispy beards who wear
three overcoats and carry little bags full of string.
SELBY: Kristine Kochanski?
LISTER: Shut up!
SELBY: What, Officer Kristine Kochanski?
LISTER: Selby, have you ever eaten a coconut whole?
SELBY: Ah, you’ve got no chance with her. You’re just too ugly.
LISTER: Listen, hadron head, I’ve got no big thing about Kristine
Kochanski!
CHEN: I have.
SELBY: So have I.

RIMMER walks up to them and gives them a triple Rimmer salute. They
mockingly return it.

RIMMER: Ha ha ha. Lister, where’s my revision timetable?
CHEN: Sir, it’s Saturday night!
LISTER: Come on, no one works Saturday night!
RIMMER: You don’t work *any* night. You don’t work any *day*!
LISTER: Skive hard, play hard! That’s our motto!
RIMMER: Look, I’ve got my engineering re-sit on Monday. I don’t know
anything. Where’s my revision timetable?
LISTER: Wait, is this the thing in all different colours, with all the
subjects divided into study periods and rest periods and self testing
time?
RIMMER: It took me seven weeks to make it. I’ve got to cram my whole
revision into one night.
LISTER: Hang on, is this the thing with the note on it in red which said,
“Vital. Valuable. Urgent. Do not touch on pain of death?”
RIMMER: Yes!
LISTER: I threw it away.

LISTER and his friends crack up.

RIMMER: Ha ha ha ha. Tee hee. Where is it?
LISTER: No, I didn’t. I pinned it up on the wall.
RIMMER: What? Why?
LISTER: To dry it out.
RIMMER: What do you mean, dry it out?
LISTER: Well, I spilled a cold vindaloo on it. Don’t worry, it’s a
little bit red, but you can read most of it, especially if you scrape
the lumps off.
RIMMER: You spoiled my — no, I haven’t got time. I’m taking learning
drugs and all I’m memorising is this conversation.
PETERSEN: They’re illegal!
RIMMER: (Going into a sort of trance) Where’s my revision timetable,
Lister? It’s Saturday night. No one works Saturday night. You don’t
work any night. You don’t work any day. Skive hard, play hard, that’s
our motto. Lister, where did you put my revision timetable. It’s
Saturday night. No one works Saturday night. You don’t work…

He wanders off into the crowd in a daze, muttering to himself.

CHEN: I’ve been to Titan, I’ve been to Bolanski, I can name 90 men who’ve
slept with Kochanski! Me!
PETERSEN: Me!
SELBY: Me!
CHEN: The London Jets Juniors!
PETERSEN: The service droids!
SELBY: My mother!
LISTER: OK, leave it alone, leave it…

His daydream fades, and he’s left back in the present, alone in the mess.

LISTER: …alone.

He tries to light up the short cigarette, but it burns so fast that he
hurriedly stomps it out.

7 Int. Corridors.

RIMMER is walking down a corridor. Cut to CAT, who is walking down a
nearby corridor pushing a cart loaded with silver boxes.

CAT: Aaaoooww! Ooh, babe! Hey Yeah! Jump back! Come back! Hep!
(Stops) How’m I looking? (Pulling out a little mirror) I’m looking
nice. My hair is nice. My face is nice. My suit is nice. I’m
looking really nice! Aaaooowww! Jump back! Hoo! Ack! Hey!
(Stops again) I wonder how I’m looking now? (Pulling out the mirror)
Still looking nice. My hair’s still nice. My face is still nice. My
suit — I’m just nice, period. Aaaoooww! Jump back! Get down! Hoo!

RIMMER meets up with CAT in the corridor.

RIMMER: Good evening, you stupid, stinking, festering, gimboid of a cat.

He begins to leave, then realises what the CAT has on the trolley.

RIMMER: Er, you’re going to put these cigarettes back, aren’t you?
CAT: Are you crazy? This is my all time best lucky find I ever found in
the whole of today.
RIMMER: No no no no no. You are going to put these cigarettes back
*quickly* before he comes.
CAT: These are mine!
RIMMER: They’re not yours — put them back.
CAT: See this hand? It is mine. See these things? They are mine.
RIMMER: I’ll give you a fish.
CAT: One fish? Ha!
RIMMER: Two fish.
CAT: For all these shiny things?
RIMMER: I’ll show you how to get all the fish you’ll ever need.
CAT: (Tempted) Five fish?
RIMMER: Mmm.
CAT: Five fish? I’ll be rich!
RIMMER: You certainly will! Yes, come on!
CAT: All right!

He begins to wheel the trolley back the way he came, then suddenly stops.

CAT: (Suspiciously) Five fish?
RIMMER: Six fish!
CAT: Oooowwww!

His mind made up, he goes the way RIMMER wants.

8 Int. Sleeping quarters.

LISTER is strumming on his guitar and singing something best left
undescribed. RIMMER enters.

RIMMER: Lister, what on Titan is this din? *Lister*!!

LISTER stops singing and playing. The background tune, if that’s the
right word for it, continues from the CD deck.

RIMMER: What on Titan is this din?
LISTER: It’s Rastabilly-Ska.
RIMMER: (Noticing the CD cover on the table) Is this it? It’s got a
health warning on it, you know. It’s bad for you.
LISTER: It’s a classic.
RIMMER: “Danger. Government Health Warning. This music can make you
irritable and irrational and has been linked to disorders of the
nervous system and bowels.”
LISTER: Rimmer, no one takes any notice of that stuff.
RIMMER: Lister, if you want to dice with death, fine, but don’t poison my
sound waves. Off!

The music stops.

RIMMER: Why don’t you listen to something really classical, like Mozart,
Mendelssohn, or Motorhead?

LISTER climbs into his bunk.

RIMMER: I think I’ve gone video-blind. Is that painting yours? It’s
rubbish!
LISTER: It’s a mirror.
RIMMER: I need some sleep.

He lies down in his bunk.

LISTER: Rimmer, do you, ah, do you remember Kristine Kochanski?
RIMMER: Navigation officer? Yes, I remember her. Snooty cow. She used
to look down on me. She used to call me “Rimmer.”
LISTER: Everybody called you “Rimmer.”
RIMMER: Well, it’s the way she said it, though. Rimmer. Rimmer. To
rhyme with “scum.” God, she had a chip on her shoulder, Lister.
LISTER: Oh yeah? Well, I want to go on a date with her.
RIMMER: Tough. She’s dead.
LISTER: For just one night!
RIMMER: Nope.
LISTER: I want to turn you off.
RIMMER: Nope.
LISTER: For just four hours.
RIMMER: Nope.
LISTER: And spend an evening with her hologram.
RIMMER: Nope.
LISTER: Look, I know you’re worried I won’t turn you back on…
RIMMER: Nope.
LISTER: But I promise, I swear, if you tell me where you’ve hidden the
hologram disks…
RIMMER: Nope.
LISTER: Oh, you’re not even prepared to discuss it.
RIMMER: We are discussing it, Lister. What’s this, if it’s not a
discussion? A diesel locomotive?
LISTER: Rimmer, I promise, I *swear* I’ll turn you back on!
RIMMER: Is that it, Lister? Is that the entire proposal?
LISTER: Yes.
RIMMER: Well, Lister…
LISTER: No, think about it seriously, don’t just dismiss it.
RIMMER: All right, all right, I’ll think about it.

There’s a long pause.

LISTER: You’re just going to say no!
RIMMER: Don’t interrupt! I’m thinking about it.
LISTER: But you’re just going to say no!
RIMMER: Not necessarily. I’m mulling it over.

Another long pause.

RIMMER: Yyyyyyeeeeee … no.
LISTER: Look, what is it, man? Don’t you trust me?
RIMMER: (Mimes holding up an imaginary card) Black card, Lister. I’m
holding up a black card. Conversation over.
LISTER: I’ve always been crazy about her. I never did anything about it.
RIMMER: Oh, Lister, you’ve forgotten the colour code. White. The white
card is to continue the discussion, but this is a black card situation.
Discussion over.
LISTER: Listen,…
RIMMER: Da da da, black card, black card, black card, da da da, black
card…
LISTER: I was talking about something else!
RIMMER: White card. Go on.
LISTER: Right, for a start, I want to stop all this black card and white
card smeg, it’s driving me crazy.
RIMMER: Black card!
LISTER: Oh, for four hours! Just, I want to spend an *evening* with her
hologram! What’s so wrong with that?
RIMMER: You don’t know when to stop, do you, Lister? I’m your superior!
LISTER: Technician was the lowest rank on this ship. The man who changed
the bog rolls was higher than us!

RIMMER loses his temper and stands up to look LISTER in the face.

RIMMER: Yes, well he’s not here now, Lister, and we are, and there’s
still a pecking order, and I’m pecking you, baby!

LISTER climbs down out of his bunk.

LISTER: (Threateningly) OK, Rimmer. OK.
RIMMER: OK?
LISTER: OK.
RIMMER: Is that a threat, Lister?
LISTER: Yeah.
RIMMER: Actually, “OK,” Lister, is not a threat, technically speaking.
LISTER: It is when you mean it to mean what I mean it to mean, and I mean
it to mean, OK, Rimmer, O-K!
RIMMER: No, Lister, “OK” is never a threat, no matter how many A’s you
put on the end.
LISTER: I’m going to pass the exams and become an officer.
RIMMER: Oh, come on, wise up, Lister!
LISTER: You’ll have to salute me, Rimmer! You’ll have to call me “sir!”
You’ll have to give me Kochanski! And me cigarettes!
RIMMER: And on that day, Lister, Satan will be skating to work.

9 Model shot

Red Dwarf drifts by.

10 Int. Sleeping quarters. The next day.

RIMMER wakes up, leaps out of bed, and begins some jumping jacks.

RIMMER: Lister! Rise and shine, el slobbo! Come on, I’ve been awake for
hours, Lister! Up, up, up! Come on! Exercise, Lister! Exercise,
sonny boy!

He finally notices that LISTER’s bunk is empty and looks at the clock.

RIMMER: Quarter to two? I didn’t set my motivator! I was supposed to be
up at seven! Why didn’t he wake me? He knows I’m a heavy sleeper.
Have I got to remind him to do everything for me? He’s so
irresponsible. Holly, give me a cold shower, will you, please?
HOLLY: (VO) Certainly, Arnold.

There is the sound of a shower running, and RIMMER begins to shiver.

RIMMER: Not that cold! Hotter! Hotter! *Aaahhh!*

He leaps to one side, out of the virtual shower.

RIMMER: Not that hot! Just forget it. Can you give me a clean uniform?
Perhaps you can manage that?

His underwear is replaced by a uniform.

RIMMER: Thank you, Holly. Where’s Lister?

He suddenly notices that something is wrong. His right arm is a lot
hairier than it was a moment ago.

RIMMER: Er, Holly, where’s my arm? This isn’t my arm. Whose arm is
this?
HOLLY: I’m sorry, Arnold. (He doesn’t sound very sorry.) Your physical
data disk has become corrupted.
RIMMER: Don’t give me excuses, give me my arm back.
HOLLY: I’ll have to refresh the graphics from a backup.
RIMMER: It’s got tattoos. “Candy,” “Denmark forever.” Is this Petersen’s
arm, Holly? I’ve got the arm of a Danish moron.
HOLLY: If you’ll just bear with me for a few minutes, Arn.
RIMMER: It’s not good enough, Holly. It’s traumatic enough being *dead*.
(Looks in the mirror) And whose ears are these, Holly? They’re like
two giant radar dishes stuck higgledy-piggledy to the side of my head.
I mean, just look at them! Look at them! Whose were these ears,
Holly? An African elephant’s?
HOLLY: They’re your ears, Arnold.
RIMMER: Er, it must have been the way I slept. I haven’t got time for
this. Where’s Lister?
HOLLY: That information is security protected.
RIMMER: What’s he doing? (Walks out.)

11 Int. Drive room.

The CAT is sitting at one of the consoles, eating. He finishes the meal
and goes over to the food dispenser for another.

Fish from Red Dwarf Series 1 Episode 3 Balance of Power

CAT: Mmm-mmm!
DISPENSING MACHINE: Hello. How can I help you?
CAT: Fish!
DISPENSING MACHINE: Today’s fish is trout a la creme. (Produces a dish.)
Enjoy your meal.
CAT: Fish!
DISPENSING MACHINE: Today’s fish is trout a la creme. (Produces a dish.)
Enjoy your meal.
CAT: Fish!
DISPENSING MACHINE: Today’s fish is trout a la creme. (Produces a dish.)
Enjoy your meal.
CAT: Fish!
DISPENSING MACHINE: Today’s fish is trout a la creme. (Produces a dish.)
Enjoy your meal.
CAT: Fish!
DISPENSING MACHINE: Today’s fish is trout a la creme. (Produces a dish.)
Enjoy your meal.
CAT: Fish!
DISPENSING MACHINE: Today’s fish is trout a la creme. (Produces a dish.)
Enjoy your meal.
CAT: I will!

He heads back to his seat with the six containers.

RIMMER enters.

RIMMER: Lister? Where’s Lister?
CAT: They’re all mine! The fish is mine!
RIMMER: I don’t want your fish, you stupid cat. Where’s Lister?

CAT growls at him.

RIMMER: Idiot. Holly? As senior rank aboard this ship, I order you to
tell me where he is.
HOLLY: (On a monitor screen) I’ve told you. I can’t.
RIMMER: Holly, that’s an order! You stupid ugly goit.
HOLLY: Ugly? I’ll have you know I chose this face out of the billions
available because it happened to be the face of the greatest and most
prolific lover who ever lived. (Sticks out his tongue at RIMMER.)
RIMMER: Really? Well he must have operated in the dark a lot.
HOLLY: You what?
RIMMER: And when are you going to give me my own arm back? I refuse to
walk around all day with Petersen’s arm. You know what he was like.
God only knows where this arm’s been.

The arm suddenly slaps him in the face.

RIMMER: Ahh! What’s he doing?
HOLLY: Beats me, Arnie. Seems to have a mind of its own.

Pertersen's arm from Red dwarf The Balance of Power

The arm sticks out two fingers and goes for RIMMER’s eyes. He grabs it
with his other hand and tries to stop it.

RIMMER: Tell him to stop it!
CAT: What is this? Cabaret? Entertainment while you eat?
RIMMER: No, no, no!
CAT: Hey, can you place bets? My bet is on *this* arm! (pointing at
PETERSEN’s.)

The arm finally succeeds in jabbing RIMMER in the eyes.

RIMMER: *Aagh!*

A bit late, he finally thinks of putting his hand over his eyes. The
other arm continues trying to jab at them.

RIMMER: Holly, you’re absolutely gorgeous and handsome and delicious,
*please* tell him to stop it.
HOLLY: All right. Just give me a couple of seconds.

PETERSEN’s arm gives up jabbing at RIMMER’s other hand, trying to reach
his eyes.

RIMMER: Ah, look at that. I’ve outwitted him. He’s given up. Look,
he’s given up.

The hand suddenly jabs RIMMER in the goolies.

RIMMER: OOOOOO!!!

He doubles up in pain, and the arm takes the opportunity to punch him in
the head.

HOLLY: There. Done it. Just in time.
CAT: Hey! That was good! You should have finished on a song, it would
have been perfect.
RIMMER: (Still doubled up on the floor) I hate everything.

12 Model shot.

Red Dwarf.

13 Int. Corridor.

RIMMER walks along, rubbing his head, and one or two other portions of
his anatomy.

RIMMER: Oohh. Where is Lister, the little worm?

14 Int. Ship’s cinema.

The Skutters are watching a Western. RIMMER enters.

RIMMER: Lister? Listy, Listy, Wisty, Lister? I know you’re here,
Lister. You’re always here Sunday afternoons. (Noticing the Skutters)
What are you two doing here?! Skutters don’t have time off!

They hold up a brush and dust pan.

RIMMER: You really must think I’m stupid. I’ll deal with you two later.

He leaves. One of the Skutters gives him the two-fingered salute. He
runs back in, but they both manage to look innocent.

15 Int. Teaching room.

LISTER is watching a training video, making notes, and drinking beer.
RIMMER enters.

RIMMER: You’re serious about this, Lister, aren’t you?
LISTER: Go away. I’m busy.
RIMMER: Off!

The video stops.

RIMMER: You seriously believe a piece of fungus like you has got the
stuff to become an officer? You’ve got the brains of diarrhea and the
breeding of a maggot. I mean, what are you writing on, Lister? The
inside of a chocolate wrapper?! I mean, come on, where’s your loose
leaf files? Where’s your pencil? Where’s your protractor and your
hole reinforcers?
LISTER: Rimmer, I’m going to pass this exam by *knowing* things.
RIMMER: OK, what’s a porous circuit?
LISTER: Don’t know.
RIMMER: How do you calculate acceleration?
LISTER: Don’t know.
RIMMER: Oh, this is sad! What’s Boyle’s Fourth Law?
LISTER: Don’t eat greasy food?
RIMMER: These are basic engineering precepts, Lister! How do you expect
to pass the engineering exam?
LISTER: I don’t. I expect to pass the chef’s exam.
RIMMER: Chef? You want to become a chef?
LISTER: Not really. I just want to become your superior.
RIMMER: But a chef? A white hatted ponce? That’s not a real officer!
LISTER: It outranks *you*, smeg-for-brains!
RIMMER: (Noticing something on LISTER’s desk) And Lister, what’s this?
Learning drugs? They’re illegal, matey! I’m afraid you’re in very
serious, grave, deep trouble, Lister. Where did you get them? I want
names. I want places. I want dates.
LISTER: Arnold Rimmer. His locker. This morning.
RIMMER: Why am I worried? You’ll never stick at it. You’ll never pass.
LISTER: Say, “You’ll never pass, Mr. Lister, sir!” Practice, Rimmer,
makes perfect.

RIMMER looks daggers at him, then walks out.

16 Int. Sleeping quarters.

RIMMER is pacing up and down while one of the Skutters holds a textbook
and the other writes things down in an exercise book at RIMMER’s command.
CAT is lying on LISTER’s bunks.

RIMMER: Question four. Underline that. “What does the red spectrum tell
us about quasars?”
CAT: (Moaning in pain) Oooooohhhhhh! I’m going to die! I’ve been fished
to death!
RIMMER: My answer: In answering the question, “What does the red
spectrum tell us about quasars?” — write bigger — there are various
words that need to be defined. What is a spectrum, what is a red one,
why is it red, and why is it so frequently linked with quasars?

He pauses and looks puzzled.

RIMMER: What the hell is a quasar? Just put a neat cross through it and
we’ll do the next one, OK?

We hear LISTER singing (if that’s the right word for it) as he
approaches.

RIMMER: And I think that confidently and concisely answers the question,
“What does the red spectrum tell us about quasars?”

LISTER enters, bearing an impressively iced cake.

LISTER: Da-daaaaaa!
RIMMER: Lister! Did you make that?
LISTER: Yeah. It’s not that good, it was supposed to be roast beef. Do
you want some, Cat? It’s got some real cream and fudge in it.
CAT: Gaaahhh. I think I’m going to have to go and do something secret.

He jumps down from the bunk, and immediately regrets it.

CAT: Aaahhh! Look out! Food escape!

He staggers out the door and down the corridor.

RIMMER: Well, Lister. You’re doing all right, then?
LISTER: Not bad. Not bad at all.
RIMMER: Listen, Lister. All this tension between us is stupid. There’s
just no need for it. I mean, you’re tense, and I’m tense, and there’s
just absolutely no need for it.
LISTER: (Chowing down with his cake and a can of beer) I’m not tense.
RIMMER: Of course you’re tense, you rectum-faced pygmy! (Recovering his
composure) Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I mean, there’s no
need for you to be slogging your guts out.
LISTER: I’m enjoying it.
RIMMER: Shut up! Doing an exam, and doing so well. There’s absolutely
no need for it, Lister. You can have the cigarettes, they’re in
pipeline 22.
LISTER: (Holding up a pack) I know.
RIMMER: Good. The Cat betrayed me. I don’t mind. I’m delighted. (He
doesn’t look it.) What I’m saying, Lister, is there’s no need for us to
be at loggerheads. I mean we’re mates. We’re pals.
LISTER: Since when?
RIMMER: Oh, come on, Lister! Laugh, laugh, laugh, chuckle, guffaw,
giggle! That’s Rimsy and Listy!
LISTER: When?
RIMMER: Millions of times!
LISTER: *When*?
RIMMER: (Pauses to think) Ah … ah, how about the time your safety
harness snapped and you fell into the cargo bay? We laughed then,
didn’t we?
LISTER: I broke me spine in three places.
RIMMER: Yes, but it was hilarious! We laughed like drains!
LISTER: *You* laughed. I spent six weeks in traction.
RIMMER: Yes, that’s right, that’s right! And you spent the rest of the
summer walking around like a croquet hoop! Oh, I laughed so hard I
nearly puked, I really did.
LISTER: What are you saying to me, Rimmer?
RIMMER: (Waxing lyrical) I’m just saying, Lister, that with times as good
as those, there’s no point in letting something small and silly like
this come between a friendship that we’ve nurtured like a small flower,
petal by petal, and watched blossom and bloom into something rare and
special.
LISTER: OK, give me Kochanski.
RIMMER: Smeg off! Dishwasher-breath! You won’t turn me back on!
LISTER: What, Rimsy-Wimsy-Mimsy, me bestest ever pal?
RIMMER: All right, Lister, I *order* you not to take those exams!
LISTER: Black card, Rimmer. (Holds up a real black card.)
RIMMER: *You* are black-carding *me*?
LISTER: That’s only the beginning, Rimmer. When I pass the exams and
become an officer, you’ll be on latrines. You’ll have the three
o’clock watch every morning. I know you’ll obey me, because you, I
mean *you*, respect all that officer smeg.
RIMMER: If you mean I respect my superiors no matter who they are, and I
obey orders blindly and unquestioningly … yes! Yes I do!
LISTER: That’s exactly what I mean. Anyway, got to get some sleep, hard
days revision on the morrow.
RIMMER: You always become the thing you hate the most. Look at you,
Lister. Obnoxious, ruthless, single-minded, insensitive. You’re more
like me than I am.
LISTER: Rimmer, you’ve forgotten the colour code. This is a black card
situation, end of conversation.

He sticks his finger in the cake icing and paints an H on his own
forehead.

LISTER: You never learn, do you?

17 Model shot.

Red Dwarf in space.

HOLLY: (VO) Chef Part 1 examination. Please proceed to the teaching
room.

18 Int. Drive room.

RIMMER is pacing up and down, while LISTER relaxes in a chair, reading a
zero G football magazine and eating a bun.

RIMMER: You’re not ready for it, you know. Look at you. You should be
doing last-second revision.
LISTER: I am. I’m revising buns.
RIMMER: I mean, it’s obscene! Missing the entire first minute of the
exam!

He eventually finishes the bun, puts down the magazine, and goes to
leave.

LISTER: OK, here we go.
RIMMER: (Standing in the doorway) No. You can’t do this to me, Lister.
LISTER: Give me Kochanski.
RIMMER: No.

LISTER walks straight through RIMMER on his way out of the room.

RIMMER: That was a lousy thing to do to a hologram. Have you no respect
for the dead?

19 Int. Teaching room.

The chef’s exam is in progress. LISTER is preparing something. The
microwave pings, and he turns around to lift a dish out. Behind him,
KOCHANSKI walks into the room. LISTER turns around, sees her, and
freezes with a look of idiotic amazement on his face.

KOCHANSKI: Hello, Dave.

LISTER just stands there staring at her. Eventually, he realises he’s
still holding a very hot dish.

LISTER: *Aaahhh!* (Dropping the dish and clutching at his hands) Eee!
Aaa! Ooo! I’m just doing this errmm, I’m taking this errmm, this is a
surprise.
KOCHANSKI: Dave, why didn’t you just *tell* me how you felt about me when
I was still alive?
LISTER: ‘Cause I’m a dope. And I’m a bum, and I’m stupid, and I’m an
idiot, and I’m hopeless, and I’m useless.
KOCHANSKI: I’m sorry, but I just don’t like you.
LISTER: Oh, hey. I’m really embarrassed now. I don’t know what to say.
KOCHANSKI: I suppose it’s sort of pointless you doing the exam now.
LISTER: Well, yeah. It’s sort of pointless me breathing in and out, if
you want to know the truth.
KOCHANSKI: I could never love *anyone* like you, so you might as well
pack up your pots and pans and off you go. I need a man who’s going
places! Up, up, up the ziggurat, lickety-split.
LISTER: (Suddenly suspicious) So, it didn’t mean anything to you, then?
KOCHANSKI: What didn’t?
LISTER: You know, when we made love on the snooker table behind the bins.
KOCHANSKI: You never told me that.
LISTER: I thought you might have noticed.
KOCHANSKI: Oh yes! Yes! I remember now!
LISTER: We’ve never made love. Go away, Rimmer.
ARNOLD KOCHANSKI: Look, look, I’m a bit out of sorts at the moment. I’m
having a woman’s period.
LISTER: A woman’s period?! Women don’t speak like that! Give me a break!
I don’t know how you’ve done it, Rimmer, but that is not Kochanski.
ARNOLD KOCHANSKI: It’s Kochanski’s body. It’s Kochanski’s voice. I
mean, what’s the difference? Come on!
LISTER: The difference is that *you’re* in there! Ugh! (Shudders in
horror.)
ARNOLD KOCHANSKI: Well, you can’t blame me for trying.
LISTER: Leave!
ARNOLD KOCHANSKI: (Looking down the front of her/his shirt) I’ve seen
something you haven’t, squire. OK, Holly, swap disks.

KOCHANSKI transforms into RIMMER … mostly. RIMMER notices a peculiar
bulge on the right side of his chest.

RIMMER: Er, Holly, this is not my breast. I want my own nipple back,
Holly.
LISTER: *Leave*, Rimmer!
RIMMER: (Fondling his new breast) There’s no rush, Holly. (Walks out.)

[I bet he feels a right tit. Sorry about that. I must have bypassed my
good taste chip. We now return you to your regularly scheduled script.
-RS]

20 Int. Corridor outside the teaching room.

RIMMER walks past, with a peculiar wiggle in his posterior.

RIMMER: Holly, are you *sure* these are my hips?

LISTER comes out of the teaching room and walks up to a service terminal.

LISTER: Lister 169-12-14-6.

The terminal produces an envelope, which LISTER picks up. RIMMER is
watching eagerly.

RIMMER: How did you do?

LISTER opens the envelope and reads the message inside. There’s no
indication from his expression of whether it contains good news or bad.

RIMMER: (Impatient) How did you do?

LISTER walks off. RIMMER calls after him.

RIMMER: (Even more impatient) How did you do, Lister?
LISTER: (Turning back to RIMMER) How did I do, Mr. Lister, *sir*! (Jumps
in the air with jubilation.)

Red Dwarf Series I Episode 2 Future Echoes – Full Script

This is the full script for Red Dwarf Series 1 episode 2 – Future Echoes. Remember, even with an IQ of 6000, it’s still brown trousers time!

Red Dwarf Episode Future Echoes Full Script

HOLLY: (In space) This is an SOS distress call from the mining ship Red
Dwarf. The crew are dead, killed by a radiation leak. The only
survivors were Dave Lister, who was in suspended animation during the
disaster, and his pregnant cat, who was safely sealed in the hold.
Revived three million years later, Lister’s only companions are a life
form who evolved from his cat, and Arnold Rimmer, a hologram simulation
of one of the dead crew.
(Returning) I am Holly, the ship’s computer, with an IQ of 6000. The
same IQ as 6000 PE teachers.

Holly from Red Dwarf has the same iq as 6000 PE teachers according to this quote!

 Int. Red Dwarf corridor.

LISTER is hooning around on a 3-wheeler.

LISTER: (Singing) …on an asteroid, excavating for a mine, lived an old
plutonium miner and his daughter, Clementine.

He stops in front of a food dispensing machine and addresses it.

LISTER: Lister, RD-52169.
DISPENSING MACHINE: Yeth? Can I help you?
LISTER: You’ve got a lisp.
DISPENSING MACHINE: Yeth, I know. The lithp malfunction hath been
reported to the Thkutterth. Thorry for the inconvenienthe.
LISTER: Can you give me a bacon sandwich with French mustard and black
coffee?

The dispenser hums and produces a pair of gumboots.

LISTER: Your vocabulary unit’s not working either.
DISPENSING MACHINE: Yeth, I know. Thith altho hath been reported to the
Thkutterth. Thorry for the inconvenienthe.
LISTER: Can you just try and give me a black coffee?
DISPENSING MACHINE: I’ll thertainly try. (Produces a bucket.)
LISTER: That’s a bucket.
DISPENSING MACHINE: Thorry.

RIMMER comes jogging along the corridor, wearing singlet and shorts,
making some cheerful trumpet sounds. He pauses to talk to LISTER, but
continues to jog in place.

RIMMER: Morning, Lister! How’s life in hippie heaven, you pregnant
baboon bellied space cookie? What’s the plan for the day then?
Slobbing in the morning, followed by slobbing in the afternoon, then a bit of a snooze before the main evening’s slob? God, you’re a disgrace to the species.

RIMMER turns around and jogs off out of sight.

LISTER: (To thin air) Good morning, Rimmer.

3 Int. Mess hall.

RIMMER jogs into the mess hall and stops.

RIMMER: Clock stop! (Checking his watch) 6:47, not a bad little time for the mile. Pity I was only doing the 300 metres. Still, I had that
conversation with Lister, knock four minutes off for that, and I
stopped to have a rest so I wouldn’t look too shagged out when I went past him, knock that off, and I’ve broken the world record! Well done, Rimsey, you’re fitter than you thought! Holly, give me a clean
uniform.
HOLLY: (Appearing on a wall monitor) 9:47 AM, Arnold.
RIMMER: No, a clean uniform, you idiot.
HOLLY: Look, I’m rather busy at the moment.
RIMMER: Now!

HOLLY sighs, and RIMMER is suddenly wearing a clean uniform.

RIMMER: Ahhh. And give me a crew cut, Holly. I’m beginning to look like one of those Hell’s Angels.
HOLLY: Arnold. We’re going to hit lightspeed in 24 hours. I have to
navigate a ship the size of a city through speeds never before
encountered in the human sphere of experience. I’m not a combination of the speaking clock, Moss Bros, and Tweezy Wheezy.
RIMMER: Holly, a hologram I may be, but I’m still the highest ranking
technician aboard this ship. When I say do something, you do it.
Understand? You stupid jumped-up Filofax?
HOLLY: I’m a *what*?
RIMMER: You heard. Just get on with it. *Very* short.
HOLLY: OK, Arnold.

RIMMER suddenly has a spectacularly ridiculous looking beehive hairdo.

RIMMER: Have you done it, Hol?
HOLLY: Yes.
RIMMER: A crewcut? And it’s very short?
HOLLY: Yes, Arnold.
RIMMER: As my father always said, “Shiny clean boots and a spanking short haircut and you can cope with anything.” He said that just before that rather unfortunate suicide business. Hmmm.

RIMMER marches off.

4 Int. Sleeping quarters.

LISTER is taking stuff out of his locker and packing it in a box. The
CAT is eating, and looking at LISTER’s slide collection on a wall
monitor.

LISTER: Ah! Now that one’s me with Jim Bexley Speed. He played with the
London Jets zero-gravity football team. He was roof attack. As you
can see, he was really, really, really, really, really thrilled to meet
me.

In the picture LISTER is grinning like a maniac and Jim is staring at him
with a “who the smeg is this berk?” expression.

CAT changes slides, and we see an ugly individual bearing a vague
resemblance to LISTER.

CAT: Who’s that guy?
LISTER: That’s me grandmother. She brought me up. She was a great old
lady. I got expelled from school once ’cause she nutted the headmaster
when I came bottom in French.

CAT changes slides again, revealing a pretty spaces-cape.

CAT: Wow, that’s nice!
LISTER: That’s just the Jupiter rise. Everyone takes that.

The slides change once again to a close-up of an ugly bull terrier, with
part of a man’s coat in the background.

CAT: Who is *that*?
LISTER: That’s me dad. That’s the only picture I’ve got of him.
CAT: He’s your father? No wonder you’re so ugly.
LISTER: No, no, that’s his dog, Hannah.
CAT: Dog? What’s a dog?
LISTER: It’s just a pet.
CAT: Ugh, ugleeee.

He starts to claw at the screen.

LISTER: Listen, you go and get your stuff and let me pack mine, OK? Will
you do that for me?
CAT: This, uh, dog. He better not be around here any place, ’cause if he
is, I may have to chase him.
LISTER: Oh yeah?
CAT: Yeah!
LISTER: Do you know how big they are? They’re about 18 foot long, and
they’ve got teeth as big as your leg.
CAT: Yeah?
LISTER: Yeah.
CAT: Well, I may have to chase him anyway. (Goes to leave, and backs
into the door.) Aagh! (Spins round and looks cautiously out into the
corridor before leaving.)

LISTER notices something wrong in his goldfish tank.

LISTER: Oh, Lennon. Look what’s happened to McCartney.

He goes over to the tank and grabs one of the fish. He holds up to his
ear and shakes it, then bangs it on the table a couple of times and
listens to it again. Finally he uses a screwdriver to pry it open
revealing that it’s mechanical. He make some hamfisted adjustments.

LISTER: Solid mechanical engineering.

He closes it up and drops it back in the tank, where it starts swimming
around.

LISTER: Hey! Perfection! And they said you was a waste of money.

RIMMER enters. The CAT follows him in and walks around him, staring at
his ridiculous haircut. LISTER is busy packing and doesn’t notice.

RIMMER: What’s he looking at?
LISTER: Who?
RIMMER: That idiotic cat.

LISTER notices the haircut and cracks up.

In Future Echoes, Rimmer from Red Dwarf has a beehive hairdo.

LISTER: Rimmer, what have you done to your hair?
RIMMER: Holly did it.
LISTER: Why?
RIMMER: Because I ordered him to.
LISTER: It looks ridiculous.
RIMMER: It may look ridiculous to you, Lister, but I like it like this.
It makes me feel like a man.
LISTER: Yeah, and you’ll probably get one, looking like that.
RIMMER: There’s nothing wrong with short hair, Lister. It gives a man a
sense of dignity, a sense of discipline.
LISTER: Rimmer, have you seen it?
RIMMER: I don’t need to see it. I didn’t get this haircut to look good.
This is a haircut designed for action, not poncing around in. It may
be a bit severe, a bit too green beret, but you are how you look, and I
look (finally seeing himself in the mirror) like a complete and total
tit! Holly! Holly!
HOLLY: (A still picture of HOLLY comes up on the monitor) This is a
recording. I’m afraid Holly is busy at the moment. If you’d like to
leave a message after the bleep, he’ll get back to you. Bleep.
RIMMER: Holly, this is Rimmer. Remember me? Rimmer. Arnold Rimmer.
The poor goit you made look like Helen Shapiro. I’ll see you toast on
the fires of hell for this.
TOASTER: Did someone say they wanted toast?
RIMMER: Shut up. (To LISTER, who has started packing again) What are you
doing?
LISTER: I’m going into stasis. I though Holly told you.
RIMMER: Stasis? What for?
LISTER: Well, Holly said to go into it while we went through lightspeed,
and then I thought, what the hell? Why not stay in till we get back to
Earth?
RIMMER: Earth? But that’s three million years away! You can’t leave me
alone for three million years, I’ll go peculiar. (Starts patting his
hairdo) Holly, look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. Can I please
have my own hair back? (No answer.) Pretty please with sugar on?
HOLLY: I’ll think about it, Arnold.

5 Int. Drive room.

LISTER enters, carrying a box of his stuff, followed by RIMMER, with his
hair back to normal.

LISTER: Holly’s supposed to have told you. I thought you didn’t mind.
RIMMER: Mind? Mind? Why should I mind? Three hundred thousand
millennia alone while you’re in suspended animation. I’ll be fine.
I’ll do that crossword book, that should kill a couple of centuries.
LISTER: Holly’ll switch you off until we come back out.
RIMMER: Even better. Switch me on, switch me off, like I’m some battery
powered sex aid.
LISTER: Oh, come on, Rimmer, don’t give me this.
RIMMER: Don’t give you what? I’m dead, Lister, or hadn’t you noticed?
LISTER: I know you’re dead, Rimmer. Don’t whinge on about it!
RIMMER: Sorry to be a bore.
LISTER: I mean, you’re everything you were when you were alive. Same
personality. Same everything.
RIMMER: Apart from the minuscule detail that I’m a stiffie.
LISTER: Look, Rimmer, death isn’t the handicap it used to be in the olden
days. It doesn’t screw your career up like it used to.
RIMMER: That’s what they say, Lister. But if you had two people coming
for a job, and one of them was dead, which one would you pick?
LISTER: It depends which is better qualified.
RIMMER: Bull pats! When was the last time you saw a dead newsreader?
LISTER: Channel 27 have a hologram reading the news.
RIMMER: Oh, groovy, funky Channel 27. Big smegging deal. You livvies
hate us deadies.
LISTER: Rimmer, if I’m gonna go back to Earth I’m gonna have to go into
stasis. It’s gonna take 4000 years just to turn around. You can’t do
a three point turn when you’re this close to lightspeed, you know.
RIMMER: Oh really? And where did you read that, the Ladybird Book of
Astro-Navigation?
LISTER: It happens to be true.
RIMMER: I know it’s true, modo. I have taken the astro-navigation exam
— nine times. Ten, if you count the time I had my spasm.
LISTER: Rimmer, you’ll only be turned off until we get back to Earth.
RIMMER: Where you won’t need me, so I won’t get switched back on.
LISTER: They might be able to cure you. They’ve probably made great
advances and that while we’ve been away.
RIMMER: Oh, yes, I expect they cured death the instant we left Earth. I
expect doctors’ surgeries are packed with the dead. “Hello, Mrs
Johnson, take one of these three times a day, you’ll soon be living
again. Carol, next corpse please.”
LISTER: Well, they might!
RIMMER: Yes, Lister, they might, if the Earth hasn’t blown up.
LISTER: Or the ants haven’t taken over.
RIMMER: Well, you’ll be in your element if insects are in control.
You’ll probably get a decent job at last.
LISTER: (Picking up his box and going to leave) Yeah, yeah.
RIMMER: You’ll probably run for government.
LISTER: Yeah, yeah.
RIMMER: You’ll probably even make it as a male model.

LISTER leaves.

RIMMER: Git.

6 Model shot.

Red Dwarf in space.

7 Int. Sleeping quarters.

LISTER freshening himself up, which for LISTER means reaching under his
T-shirt to scratch with one hand and spray under his arms with the other.

LISTER: (Singing) To Ganymede and Titan, yes sir, I’ve been around, but
there ain’t no place in the whole of space like that good old toddlin’
town.

He picks up another spray can in his free hand and sprays his face.

LISTER: Oh, Lunar Ci–

He suddenly realises that he’s spraying his face with underarm deodorant.
Cautiously reaching under his shirt, he discovers that he’s been spraying
shaving foam under his arms. He scrapes off a handful and slaps it on
his face.

LISTER: (Resuming his song) Lunar City Seven–
TOASTER: You can’t sing, you know.
LISTER: And you can, can you?
TOASTER: Oh. Just because I’m a toaster, I’m tone deaf?
LISTER: Well, go on then.
TOASTER: Welcome to the Starlight Ballroom, hey, (starts singing) Fly me
to the moon and let me–

LISTER walks over to the TOASTER and bashes it on the top. It stops
singing.

LISTER: (Resuming his song) Lunar City Seven…

8 Model shot.

We can still hear LISTER’s singing in the background as Red Dwarf flies
by. Suddenly there’s a loud bang and everything changes colour to a red
blur on white space.

9 Int. Sleeping quarters.

The colour distortion is still there, but quickly fades back to normal.
LISTER looks around wildly in surprise.

LISTER: What was that?!
HOLLY: Erm, er, 11:14 ship time, Dave.
LISTER: No, Holly, what was that flash?
HOLLY: We’ve broken the light barrier 22 hours early.
LISTER: Oh. (Resuming his shaving) Is everyone all right?
HOLLY: (His face on the monitor is sort of mosaic-ing in and out of
focus) I can’t do it. I can’t cope. We’re going at the speed of
light. Me bottle’s gone.
LISTER: Holly! Is everyone all right?
HOLLY: No! I’m not! I thought I could navigate at lightspeed, but I just
can’t wrap me head round it. (Suddenly looking to one side) Gordon
Bennett! That was a close one!
LISTER: Holly, what’s the problem? You’re supposed to have an IQ of
6000, aren’t you?
HOLLY: Look, we’re travelling faster than the speed of light. That
means, by the time we see something, we’ve already passed through it.
Even with an IQ of 6000, it’s still brown trousers time.

It's still brown trousers time Red Dwarf Quote
LISTER: Can I help?
HOLLY: (The image of his face returning to normal) No, it’s all right.
I’m getting the hang of it now. Left a bit, straighten her up. I
better go. (Fades out.)
LISTER: (Shaving in front of the mirror, and singing again) To Ganymede
and Titan, yes sir, I’ve been around–

He suddenly realises that his image in the mirror isn’t following his
movements properly. He stops and stares at it and his image continues
shaving. After a moment he turns away, and doesn’t notice that his
reflection has cut its chin.

LISTER: (Shouting) Rimmer! Rimmer!

As he turns back to the mirror, his reflection turns away and shouts
something. RIMMER comes running up behind it. The real LISTER whirls
around, but RIMMER isn’t there on his side of the mirror. Eventually he
turns back to the mirror, where LISTER and RIMMER are holding a
conversation. The real LISTER starts shaving again, keeping a close
watch on the mirror.

LISTER: (Singing) To Ganymede and Titan, yes sir, I’ve been a– (Suddenly
realises he’s cut himself on the chin. Shouting) *Rimmer*!
RIMMER: (Running in) What? What is it?
LISTER: Did you see anything really weird in that mirror?
RIMMER: (After staring blankly at it for a moment) Yes, you, you ugly
goit.
LISTER: No, it was … really odd.
RIMMER: What was?
LISTER: Oh, nothing. Forget it. Doesn’t matter.
RIMMER: *What* doesn’t matter?
LISTER: Nothing! Forget it! It doesn’t matter!
RIMMER: Lister, have you been at that marijuana gin again?
LISTER: I said forget it, it doesn’t matter.
RIMMER: Fine! Well, if you have any more problems with *nothing* and
things that don’t matter, just scream out my name hysterically and I’ll
come pelting down the corridor. Allright?

10 Int. Sleeping corridor.

The CAT is wheeling a rack of clothes along and meets LISTER.

CAT: (Singing) This little kitty went into stasis. Oooo! This little
kitty stayed home. Ooh! Yeah, my clothes look good.
LISTER: (Laughing) What are you doing?
CAT: I’m doing what you said do.
LISTER: I said, “Take a few essential basics you couldn’t bear to leave
behind.”
CAT: Right! These are all I’m taking. Just these, and the other ten
racks. Travel light, move fast!
LISTER: You can’t take all of this. There’s no room.
CAT: (Rummaging around in the rack) OK, then I’ll leave … this! (Pulls
out a small red handkerchief.) I’ll just have to do without it.
LISTER: You can take two suits and that’s it.
CAT: Two suits? Then I’m staying!
LISTER: You can’t stay. By the time I come out, you’ll be dead.
CAT: Two suits *is* dead!

LISTER walks away.

CAT: (Calling after him) Hey! If I cut off my leg and leave it behind,
can I take three?

He makes several attempts to hold up three fingers.

11 Int. Drive room.

LISTER calls back to CAT.

LISTER: We’re going into stasis in ten minutes. I’ll meet you in the
sleeping quarters.

RIMMER enters the Drive Room through the far door.

LISTER: Yo, Rimmer, look, I’ve been thinking–
RIMMER: What?
LISTER: You know, about going into stasis and everything.
RIMMER: How did I do what?

RIMMER walks into the middle of the room, and LISTER realises that RIMMER
isn’t looking at him, but at an empty spot in the air. Throughout the
following conversation, RIMMER continues ignoring LISTER and talking to
thin air, while LISTER is continually looking around, trying to figure
out what RIMMER thinks he’s talking to.

LISTER: What do you mean, “How did I do what?”
RIMMER: Lister, don’t be a gimboid.
LISTER: I’m not being a gimboid!
RIMMER: I’ve just been in the library, thinking. And I’ve decided–

RIMMER stops as though he was interrupted, although LISTER hasn’t done
anything.

RIMMER: Shut up! As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,
I’ve decided, when you go into stasis, I want to stay behind. I want
to be left on.
LISTER: What, on your own for the rest of your life?
RIMMER: What things?
LISTER: Eh?
RIMMER: I said *what*?
LISTER: What’s going on?
RIMMER: *You’re* space crazy!
LISTER: *I’m* space crazy?! You’re the one who’s (waving his hand in
front of Rimmer’s face, who doesn’t notice) space crazy!
RIMMER: Well, it probably is deja vu. It sounds like it.

RIMMER shakes his head and leaves the Drive Room through the near door.
As he leaves, a second RIMMER enters through the far door. LISTER is
staring after the first RIMMER, and gets the shock of his life (well, one
of the shocks of his life) when he turns around and sees the second
RIMMER.

LISTER: (Screams) Aaahhh! Rimmer! (Calms down a little) I’ve just seen
you walk out of that door.
RIMMER: (Now talking directly to LISTER) What?
LISTER: How did you do that?
RIMMER: How did I do what?
LISTER: You just this second walked out of that door.
RIMMER: Lister, don’t be a gimboid.
LISTER: I swear, on me grandmother’s life, as you walked out of *that*
door, you came in *this* one!
RIMMER: I’ve just been in the library, thinking. And I’ve decided–
LISTER: Rimmer, I’m telling ya–
RIMMER: Shut up! As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,
I’ve decided, when you go into stasis, I want to stay behind. I want
to be left on.

As he says this, LISTER realises that he’s heard all this before.

LISTER: Rimmer, you’ve just come in and said exactly these things.
RIMMER: What things?
LISTER: You said that!
RIMMER: I said *what*?
LISTER: And that! You said that!
RIMMER: You are space crazy!

[Continuity error here — the first time he said “you’re,” the second
time “you are.” -RS]

LISTER: And then you said, “Well it probably is deja vu.”
RIMMER: Well, it probably is deja vu. It sounds like it.
LISTER: Well, go on then. Shake your head and walk out.

RIMMER shakes his head and walks out. LISTER runs after him, after
quickly checking to see that a third RIMMER hasn’t entered.

12 Int. Corridor.

RIMMER is walking along it, LISTER running after him.

LISTER: Rimmer, listen! Will you just listen?

The CAT runs past them in the opposite direction, holding one hand to his
mouth in pain.

CAT: My tooth! My tooth! I think I lost my tooth!
LISTER: Cat, wait! Rimmer, listen!

13 Int. Sleeping quarters.

CAT is fishing in the goldfish tank with a tea strainer. LISTER and
RIMMER enter.

CAT: I’m going to eat you little fishies, I’m going to eat– (suddenly
noticing LISTER and RIMMER) Ah, oh, ah, ah, I was just making sure your
fish were OK. I wasn’t going to eat them!
RIMMER: He just walked past us.
LISTER: It must be something to do with lightspeed.
RIMMER: Holly, what’s going on?
LISTER: It’s lightspeed, I bet you.
RIMMER: Is your name Holly?
LISTER: (Mocking RIMMER) Is your name Holly?
RIMMER: Holly?
HOLLY: Mmm?
RIMMER: *What* is going on?
HOLLY: Look, I’m a tenth-generation AI hologrammic computer. I’m not
your mum.
RIMMER: Yes, fantastic.
HOLLY: What do you want this time? A hand with your homework? Or would
you like me to sew little name tags in your PE kit?
RIMMER: Holly, watch my lips. What … is … hap … pening?
LISTER: With the mirror and the Cat and everything.
HOLLY: Oh, that. You’re seeing future echoes. Didn’t I explain this to
you?
RIMMER: What are future echoes?
HOLLY: How simple do you want this?
RIMMER: Ah, so Lister can understand it.
HOLLY: (Taken back) Oh dear.
RIMMER: It’s difficult, I know.
HOLLY: Well, we’re travelling faster than LS, right?
LISTER: What’s LS?
TOASTER: Lightspeed.
LISTER: Smartarse.
HOLLY: Consequently, you’re catching up with things you’re about to do
before you’ve actually done them.
RIMMER: Ah. So we’re seeing bits of the future?
HOLLY: Yes.
LISTER: See, I told you it was lightspeed. You should have asked me.
RIMMER: Can they see us?
TOASTER: Of course not. Use your loaf.
LISTER: So, wait, are you saying that the Cat is going to break his tooth
sometime in the future?
HOLLY: Yes. I didn’t think you wanted it this simple.
CAT: Hey, ain’t nobody gonna break *my* tooth!
RIMMER: How long is this going to last?
HOLLY: Until the reverse thrust takes effect and we drop below
lightspeed.
RIMMER: (Suddenly noticing something on LISTER’s bunk) What’s that
photograph?
LISTER: That’s me and Frankenstein, isn’t it?
RIMMER: No, the one with the babies.

Close up of the photo. It shows LISTER grinning madly and holding two
babies.

LISTER: Babies! I’ve never seen it before.
RIMMER: Ah. Holly, is this what you call a future echo?
TOASTER: Yes, of course it is. Bozo.
LISTER: Two babies! How do I get two babies?

They all look at each other.

14 Int. Corridor.

Two skutters are coming down a corridor, one of them holding a piece of
paper. LISTER is coming down the other way.

LISTER: (Singing) To Ganymede and Titan, yes sir, I’ve been around, but
there ain’t no place in the whole of space–

LISTER notices the Skutters.

LISTER: What’s this, guys? (Taking the paper and reading it) “Don’t go
into stasis. Please don’t leave us with Rimmer.” I’m sorry, guys, I’ve
got to. We need you.

The Skutters begin banging their heads on the wall.

LISTER: I mean, there’s nothing for me here. I want to go back to Earth!
Oh, don’t do that. I mean, I don’t care what it’s like, it’s got to be
better than this. I don’t care if the dolphins have taken over and all
the people are in the human-being-itarium, you know? I just want to
find out!

Suddenly there’s the sound of an explosion. The corridor shakes, and
LISTER falls over.

LISTER: What was *that*?!

He jumps up and runs off.

15 Int. Various corridors.

We see several shots of LISTER madly running along corridors and up and
down stairs.

16 Int. Drive room.

RIMMER is already here while LISTER runs in.

LISTER: What was that?
RIMMER: Brace yourself for a bit of a shock, Lister, but I just saw you
die.
LISTER: What?!
RIMMER: I did warn you to brace yourself.
LISTER: You didn’t give me much of a chance.
RIMMER: I gave you ample bracing time!
LISTER: No you didn’t. You didn’t even pause.
RIMMER: Well, I’m sorry! *I’ve* just had a rather nasty experience. *I*
have just seen someone I know die in the most hideous, hideous way!
LISTER: Yeah! *Me*!
RIMMER: You were fiddling around with the navi–
LISTER: I don’t want to know! I don’t want to know!
RIMMER: You don’t want to know how you die?
LISTER: No! (Pause) Was it quick?
RIMMER: Well, I wouldn’t say it was super fast. Not if you count the
thrashing around and the agonised squealing.
LISTER: You’re really loving this, aren’t you?
RIMMER: What a horrible thing to say!
LISTER: It was definitely me?
RIMMER: Oh yes.
LISTER: I don’t want to know. (Pause) How old did I look?
RIMMER: How old are you now?
LISTER: Twenty-five. How old did I look.
RIMMER: Mmmm … mid twenties.
LISTER: *Smeg*! I’m not ready! I’m not smegging ready!
RIMMER: You did seem surprised.
LISTER: Ah! Did you actually see me face?
RIMMER: You were wearing a hat, but it was definitely you.

LISTER snatches the hat he’s wearing off his head and stuffs it in a
pocket.

LISTER: Well there you go, I won’t wear the hat. Then it can’t happen,
can it? I can live without a hat.
RIMMER: Lister, it *has* happened. You can’t change it, any more than
you can change what you had for breakfast yesterday.
LISTER: Hey, it hasn’t happened, has it? It has “will have going to have
happened” happened, but it hasn’t actually “happened” happened yet,
actually.
RIMMER: Poppycock! It will be happened; it shall be going to be
happening; it will be was an event that could will have been taken
place in the future. Simple as that. Your bucket’s been kicked, baby.

[I think I deserve grammatical danger money for transcribing those last
few lines. -RS]

LISTER: Sez you.
RIMMER: Sez me and Albert Einstein, thank you very much. Albo and I
happen to agree on this one. It’s called the Theory of Relativity.
LISTER: All right, OK, OK. Right. The Cat broke his tooth in a future
echo, right? Now if I can stop him breaking it…
RIMMER: (Smugly) Can’t be done.
LISTER: …then I can stop me from dying!
RIMMER: Can’t be done.
LISTER: Now, how would the Cat break his tooth?

RIMMER begins humming the Dead March and miming carrying a coffin.

LISTER: He’d be eating something. Eating something hard. (Thinks for a
moment.) My robot goldfish! Eating my robot goldfish! Holly, where’s
the Cat?
HOLLY: He’s just going into your sleeping quarters, Dave.
LISTER: Oh, smegging hell!

LISTER dashes off. RIMMER dashes after him.

17 Int. Sleeping quarters.

The CAT saunters in.

CAT: Yeah, yeah, yeah! I’m back! Feeling good! How am I looking?

He pulls out a tiny hand mirror, and uses it and the wall mirror to
examine the back of his head.

CAT: Good! You know, I wish I was someone else. Then I could kiss me.
I think I’ll investigate… (he quickly looks around the room and then
goes over to the fish tank) …these! Mm-mm, I just ate. But … one
little fishy? Yeah, yeah!
(Starts singing) I’m gonna eat you little fishy!

He pulls out two slices of bread and the strainer, and starts fishing
around in the tank.

CAT: (Still singing) I’m gonna eat you little fishy! Yeah, yeah!

Eventually he succeeds in pulling out one of the fish. He puts it
between the slices of bread.

CAT: Yeah! I got you! I’m gonna–

Just as he’s about to bite down on it, LISTER dashes into the room,
knocks the fish sandwich out of his hand, and wrestles him down onto the
table. The CAT’s head is knocked against one corner.

LISTER: (Triumphantly picking up the fish) I got the fish! I’m not gonna
die! I’m not gonna die!
CAT: Hey, you crazy monkey! You creased my suit! (Suddenly realising
that there’s something wrong with his mouth) My tooth. My tooth, my
tooth! I think I lost my tooth!

He runs off into the corridor. LISTER is horrified. RIMMER walks in,
still looking smug.

RIMMER: Lister! Allow me to be the first to offer my commiserations.
LISTER: You’re really, really loving this, aren’t you?
RIMMER: Come on! (Imitating lister) “Death isn’t the handicap it used to
be in the olden days. It doesn’t screw your career up the way it used
to.”
LISTER: You’re right. There’s always some good in every situation.

He grabs a bottle of whisky and takes a swig.

RIMMER: Absolutely, Lister! And in this case, you’re about to do the
largest splits you’ll ever do in your life.
LISTER: I get blown up then?
RIMMER: *Bits* of you do.
LISTER: It’s not fair. There’s loads of things I’ve never done. Like
… I’ve never had a prawn vindaloo. And I’ve never read … (pauses
to think) a book. And I wanted to have a family. And I wanted to have
loads of practice in the things that you’ve got to do to get a family.
RIMMER: Holly, I’d like to send an internal memo. Black border. Begins,
“To Dave Lister, Condolences on your passing away.” What’s that poem?
“Now, weary traveller, rest your head, for just like me, you’re utterly
dead.”

The intercom honks.

HOLLY: Emergency. Emergency. There’s an emergency going on.
LISTER: What is it, Hol? (Takes another swig of whisky.)
HOLLY: There’s an emergency, Dave. The navicomp’s overheating, and I
need your help in the drive room.
RIMMER: (Barely containing his excitement) Ooh!
LISTER: Come in number 169, your time is up. OK, what was I wearing?
RIMMER: Ahhh … that jacket, and that red T-shirt.

LISTER pulls out his hat and replaces it on his head, then yanks a hefty
length of piping off the wall.

LISTER: You said yourself, I can’t stop it. Let’s get it over with.
RIMMER: (Pointing at the pipe) Ah, Lister, what’s that for?
LISTER: I’m going out like I came in — screaming and kicking.
RIMMER: You can’t whack death on the head!
LISTER: If he comes near me I’m gonna rip his nipples off!

He exits.

18 Int. Corridor.

LISTER strides down the corridor, brandishing the pipe and looking
determined.

19 Int. Drive room.

LISTER cautiously peers around the doorway into the drive room. There is
a menacing hum in the background.

HOLLY: I’m afraid it can’t cope with the influx of data at lightspeed,
Dave, could you hook it up to the drive computer for me?

LISTER picks up a small computer and carries it over to the main console,
which is malfunctioning badly, spitting out showers of sparks. He
cautiously plugs it in, then closes his eyes and starts flipping
switches. The background hum gets louder and higher pitched and LISTER
screws his face up a bit more with each switch.

LISTER: (Counting down as he flips switches) Six … five…

RIMMER peers around the doorway, holding his fingers in his ears and
grinning maniacally.

LISTER: …Four … three … (sticks his free finger in one ear) two …
(screaming) aaaaaahhhhhh! One!

He flips the last switch. The noise and sparks stop. Everything returns
to normal. LISTER gradually realises this and grins with relief.

LISTER: I did it! I’m not gonna die! *Aaargh!*

He yells in pain and drops out of sight. Then we see the CAT jump up
from where he’s pulled LISTER down.

CAT: Aaargh! Dog attack!

20 Model shot.

Red Dwarf.

21 Int. Sleeping quarters.

LISTER and RIMMER walk in. LISTER is jumping up and down like a maniac,
RIMMER looks disappointed.

RIMMER: I don’t know why you’re so chirpy.
LISTER: I’m not gonna die! I’m not gonna die!
RIMMER: But for how long? It’ll probably happen tomorrow or Thursday.
LISTER: Maybe it’s not going to happen at all!
RIMMER: It was you! I saw you. I’m sure it was you.

Suddenly they both notice that LISTER’s bunk is occupied. It’s an old
man, recognisably an aged version of LISTER. His right arm is mechanical
and in his left hand he holds a bottle of beer.

OLD LISTER: Hello, Dave. This is me. I mean you. I mean, I *am* you.
This is you age 171, Dave.

He uses his bionic hand to pop the cap off the bottle.

OLD LISTER: I know you’re there, because when I was your age, I saw me at
my age … telling you … what I’m about to tell you. You’ve got to
tell you … when you get to be me.
RIMMER: Thank heavens you’ve still got all your marbles, Lister.
LISTER: Shhh!
OLD LISTER: I’ve got to tell you about Bexley.
RIMMER: Who’s Bexley?
LISTER: I was always going to call my second son Bexley, after Jim Bexley
Speed.
RIMMER: Your second son? What were you going to call your first son?
LISTER: Jim. After Jim Bexley Speed.
OLD LISTER: It wasn’t you Rimmer saw in the drive room, it was Bexley.
LISTER: Rimmer, you saw me son die!
RIMMER: Never mind this tot, what about *me*, old man? What happens to
*me*? Do I become an officer?
LISTER: Rimmer, I’m going to have two sons! Isn’t it fantastic?
RIMMER: But one of them dies.
LISTER: Yeah, well, everyone dies. You’re born, and you die. The bit in
the middle’s called life, and that’s still to come!
OLD LISTER: Go and get your camera. You haven’t got much time. Get your
camera and run to the medical unit. Run!

LISTER hastily rummages around in his junk for the camera.

RIMMER: What about me? What happens to me?
LISTER: He can’t hear us, Rimmer. He’s from the future.
RIMMER: Ah, but if I ask you now, you can remember it, and when you get
to be him, you can tell me.
LISTER: Boss thinking.
OLD LISTER: Rimmer. You wanted to know what happened to you?
RIMMER: Yes!
OLD LISTER: Well, come closer.
RIMMER: Yes!
OLD LISTER: Come closer still.
RIMMER: Yes!
OLD LISTER: Closer!
RIMMER: Yes!

The OLD LISTER suddenly laughs and vanishes.

RIMMER: You goit! (Turns to the original LISTER) No, *you* goit!

LISTER runs off.

RIMMER: You’re all goits! I’m surrounded by goits! Holly, you’re a
goit!
HOLLY: I’m a what?
RIMMER: You heard!

22 Int. Corridor outside the medical unit.

LISTER is fiddling with his camera.

LISTER: What’s happening, Hol? Are we going to see my funeral or
something?
HOLLY: Look, the faster we go, the more into the future the future echoes
are. And now, since we’ve just started to slow down, the future echoes
are nearer to the present. Clear?
LISTER: No.
HOLLY: Tough.

RIMMER arrives. He has another ridiculous haircut. This time he looks
like one of the Beetles.

RIMMER: Wait a minute. I don’t understand how you’re supposed to get two
sons without a woman on this ship.
LISTER: Neither do I. But it’s going to be a laugh finding out.

The door to the medical unit slides open, and another LISTER (not
noticeably older than the “real” one) walks out, carrying two crying
babies.

FUTURE LISTER: I can’t see you, but I know you can see me. I’d like you
to meet your two sons. This is Jim, and this is Bexley. Oh, stop
crying and say “cheese,” boys!

FUTURE LISTER grins for the camera, and LISTER snaps the photo. Cut to a
close-up of the instant photo, developing against a backdrop of stars.

The End | Red Dwarf Series 1 Episode 1 Full Script

Here is the full script for Red Dwarf Series 1 Episode 1 – The End. Here, we get introduced to Lister, Rimmer, and Holly for the first time.

RED DWARF Series I Episode 1 – The End

 

The full script for Red Dwarf Series 1 Episode 1 The End is now available online

LISTER: (Singing) To Gannymede and Titan, yes sir, I’ve been around…
RIMMER: Lister.
LISTER: Huh?
RIMMER: Have you ever been hit over the head with a welding mallet?

LISTER shakes his head no.

RIMMER: No? Stop that and push the trolley.
LISTER: (With a mock salute) Yes, sir, Rimmer!

They approach a food dispenser.

RIMMER: Right. Corridor 159.

LISTER begins humming the same song.

RIMMER: Lister, shut up!
LISTER: I’m only humming!
RIMMER: Well *don’t*.

LISTER stops humming and continues the tune by holding his mouth open and
slapping his cheeks.

RIMMER: Lister, don’t hum and don’t make any stupid sounds with your
cheeks.

LISTER stops slapping his cheeks and decides to do a rendition of “If I
Only Had a Heart” by making clicking sounds in his throat.

RIMMER: Lister, one more sound, anything, and you’re on report, my laddo.
What job number’s this?

LISTER mimes talking without making a sound.

RIMMER: Right! That’s it! (Begins writing on his clipboard) “Lister,
D., Third Technician. Offense: obstructing a superior technician by
humming, clicking, and being quiet.” When the Captain sees this you’re
dead.
LISTER: Rimmer, I’m bored!
RIMMER: Bored?! This is essential routine maintenance! It’s absolutely
vital for the well-being of this crew, this mission, and this ship.
(Reading his clipboard) “Dispenser 172: chicken soup nozzle clogged.”

He puts down his clipboard.

RIMMER: Pass me a 14B, Lister.

LISTER hands him a small, white pipe cleaner.

RIMMER: Lister, is this a 14B? Does it look even *remotely* like a 14B?

He reaches into the parts trolley and pulls out another white pipe
cleaner, indistinguishable from the first.

RIMMER: *This* is a 14B, Lister. This (indicating the original) is a
14F. Are you blind?!
LISTER: Who cares?
RIMMER: *I* care, Lister!

RIMMER looks at them both, realises he can’t tell the difference either,
and quickly puts the one he chose back in the trolley.

RIMMER: It’s *my* career, Lister. I’m the one who gets it in the neck if
an officer comes along, orders chicken soup, and gets black currant
cordial with blancmange and two creams and a sugar.

RIMMER cleans out the nozzle in the dispenser unit with the 14 whatever.

RIMMER: (To the dispenser) Chicken soup.

The machine hums and dispenses a cup of something. RIMMER takes a sip of
it, grimaces in disgust, and spits it out.

RIMMER: Yep. That’s working.
LISTER: It’s stupid anyway, all this maintenance business. The only
reason they don’t give this job to the service robots is they’ve got a
better union than us.

LISTER picks up the cup of soup and takes a sip. His reaction is the
same as RIMMER’s, but he sips some more and brings it with him to the
trolley.

RIMMER: Lister, that is absolute nonsense. Right. What’s next?
(Reading his clipboard) “Botanical gardens: faulty power circuit. In
corridor 147: sticking door.”
LISTER: It’s true, you know, though, Rimmer. You rank below all four of
those service robots. Even the one that’s gone absolutely mad.
RIMMER: Well, Lister, not for long, matey. Up, up, up! That’s where I’m
going!
LISTER: Not until you pass your engineer’s exam. And you won’t do that
because you’ll just go in there and flunk again.
RIMMER: Lister, last time I only failed by the *narrowest* of narrow
margins.
LISTER: You what? You walked in there, wrote, “I am a fish,” four
hundred times, did a funny little dance, and fainted.
RIMMER: That’s a total lie!
LISTER: No, it’s not! Petersen told me.
RIMMER: (Mocking LISTER) “No, it’s not! Petersen told me.” Lister, if
you must know, what I did was, I wrote a discourse on power circuits
which was simply too *radical*, too *unconventional*, too *mould-
breaking* for the examiners to accept.
LISTER: Yeah. You said you were a fish.

LISTER lights a cigarette and beings smoking.

RIMMER: Is that a cigarette you’re smoking, Lister?
LISTER: No, it’s a chicken.
RIMMER: Right! You’re on report. Two times in as many minutes, Lister!
I don’t know.

Another crew member, Frank Todhunter, walks up to them.

TODHUNTER: Rimmer, Lister.
RIMMER: (Standing to attention and saluting) Yes, sir.
LISTER: Yo, Todhunter, get down!
TODHUNTER: Indeed. Now, Rimmer, I’m just going through MacIntyre’s
artifacts, and I see that you’ve filed 247 complaints … against
Lister.
RIMMER: (Looking proud of himself) Yes, sir!
TODHUNTER: That’s 123 counts of insulting a superior technician, 39
counts of dereliction of duty, 84 counts of general insubordination,
and one count of mutiny.
RIMMER: Yes, sir!
TODHUNTER: Mutiny, Lister?
LISTER: I stood on his toe.
RIMMER: Maliciously, and with intent to wound.
LISTER: It was an accident!
RIMMER: Lister, I put it to you, how is it possible to stand on one small
toe by accident? You didn’t stand on my toe at all, you stood on my
entire foot, thereby obstructing a superior technician in pursuit of
vital duty.
LISTER: But the vital duty was him going to snap my guitar in half!
RIMMER: Whereupon you leapt from the top bunk onto the whole of my right
foot.
TODHUNTER: All right, that’s enough.
RIMMER: (Ignoring him) Had there been a crisis situation, Lister, I would
have had to perform my duties hopping, clearly putting the ship at
risk, clearly therefore mutiny.
TODHUNTER: Finished?
RIMMER: (Still ignoring him) However, I’m not a vindictive man, so I
don’t intend to apply for the death penalty.
TODHUNTER: There are 169 people on this ship. You, Rimmer, are over one
man. Why can’t you two get on?

LISTER has his cigarette sticking out of his right while he is idly
munching on some food while he speaks.

LISTER: You see, I try, sir. I’m not an insubordinate man by nature. I
try and respect Rimmer and everything, but it’s not easy, ’cause he’s
such a smeghead.
RIMMER: (To TODHUNTER) Did you hear that, sir? (To LISTER) Lister, do
you have any conception of the penalty for describing a superior
technician as a smeghead?
TODHUNTER: (Chuckling) Oh, Rimmer. (Clapping him on the shoulder) You
*are* a smeghead.

TODHUNTER leaves them. LISTER is cracking up with laughter.

RIMMER: (To Lister) You heard that! (Yelling after TODHUNTER) With
respect, sir, your career’s finished, Todhunter, you big lig!

2 Int. Drive Room.

A small clump of people are standing on one side of the room, facing a
small round table with a metal cannister on it. Captain HOLLISTER is
near the middle of the group, and begins speaking.

HOLLISTER: We’re all gathered here today to pay our last respects to
George MacIntyre. George was an excellent officer and as good of a
friend as anyone could ever hope to have. And he’ll be missed more
deeply and more completely than he could ever know. And now I commend
his ashes to the stars he loves so much.

He goes over to the table, picks up the cannister, and gives it a loving
pat.

HOLLISTER: (To the cannister) Goodbye George, we’ll miss you.

He puts the cannister into a slot in the table and presses a button to
eject it into space.

HOLLISTER: This is a piece of music he specially requested. Start the
tape please, Holly.

The jubilant sounds of “See you later alligator” fill the air, as the
group bows their heads in solemn silence.

3 Int. Sleeping quarters.

LISTER is lying on the upper bunk, listening to the funeral service, and
looking out the window.

LISTER: There goes MacIntyre.

The music plays on: “…so long! Goodbye!”

LISTER: Goodbye George.

The view changes to show more of the room. RIMMER is sitting on the
bottom bunk writing on his arm. The vid shows the Captain and the others
at the funeral service.

LISTER: That was George!
RIMMER: Really? I thought it was Mary Queen of Scots.

Captain HOLLISTER on the vid starts to say something, but RIMMER is
annoyed by the distractions.

RIMMER: Off!
LISTER: Hey! I was watching that!
RIMMER: Well, tough!

LISTER reaches down from the top bunk to pick up his acoustic guitar.

RIMMER: You touch that guitar, Lister, I’ll remove the E string and
garrotte you with it.
LISTER: Can I do anything? Is it OK if I breathe? Can I breathe? (He
does so, into Rimmer’s face.)
RIMMER: Lister, I have an exam tomorrow, which I intend to pass.
LISTER: I know, yeah. By cheating.
RIMMER: (Holding up his arm, covered in writing) This is not cheating!
It’s merely an aid to memory. Helps me marshal the facts already in my
command.
LISTER: What does? Copying the entire textbooks onto your body? Why
don’t you hand your body in and let them mark that?
RIMMER: Lister, do you think it’s easy for someone like me to become an
officer? Someone who wasn’t Academy educated? Someone who didn’t have
the right nobby background? Someone who didn’t have the right parents?
LISTER: You didn’t have the right parents? Whose parents did you have?
RIMMER: *My* parents. The wrong parents.
LISTER: I’m just saying, you know, if you can’t pass fair and square, why
bother?
RIMMER: Well, you would, Lister, because you’ve got no ambition, no
drive. You’re perfectly content to be the lowest rank on the ship.
LISTER: I’m not the lowest rank on this ship. What about the laboratory
mice? I tell those mice to do something, they’ve got to jump to it.
(Squeaky voice) “Yes, sir, Mr Lister, sir! Eee, eee, eee, eee…”
RIMMER: Lister, you are a nothing.
LISTER: I’m not a nothing! I’ve got me plan.
RIMMER: What’s that, the plan to be the slobbiest entity in the entire
universe?
LISTER: No. Me five-year plan. You see, I’m going to do two more trips.
And I’ve been saving up all me pay–
RIMMER: Since when?
LISTER: Since always. That’s why I never buy any soap or deodorant or
socks or anything like that, you know. Anyway, I’m going to buy meself
a little farm on Fiji. And I’m going to get a sheep and a cow, and
breed horses.
RIMMER: With a sheep and a cow?
LISTER: No, with horses and horses.
RIMMER: On Fiji?
LISTER: Yeah! The prices there are unbelievable.
RIMMER: Yes, because they had a volcanic eruption and now most of Fiji’s
three feet below sea level!
LISTER: It’s only three feet. They can wade. That’s why the animals are
gonna hafta be quite tall.
RIMMER: Nice plan, Lister. Excellent plan! Brilliant plan, Lister!
What about the sheep? What are you going to do, buy them water-wings?
Fit them with stilts? Better still, you could cross-breed them with
dolphins and have leaping mutton. (Gesturing with his pen to represent
a woolly dolphin leaping out of the water) Baa, splash, baa, splash.
LISTER: You can get a drainage grant these days.
RIMMER: Why bother, Lister? You could be the first man to produce wet-
look knitwear.
LISTER: Look, this is why I never ever said anything to you, ’cause I
knew you’d say something like this.
RIMMER: Lister, you’ve got the brain of a cheese sandwich. (Miming a
swimmer and putting on a Mummerset voice) “Mornin’, Farmer Lister! I’m
just poppin’ down to the shops in my submarine. Can I buy you
anything?”

There’s a honking sound, and HOLLY’s face appears on a monitor.

HOLLY: The “Welcome Back George MacIntyre” reception is about to begin in
the refectory. George says he’d like to invite everybody, especially
those who weren’t able to attend his funeral.

RIMMER and LISTER get up. RIMMER picks up Lister’s jacket and starts to
hand it to him, then drops it on the floor. LISTER trips RIMMER from
behind as they leave.

4 Model shot.

Red Dwarf.

5 Int. Mess hall.

We see the MacIntyre party. People are sitting around the room,
including RIMMER, who is sitting at a table by himself and still writing
on his arm. PETERSEN notices this as he walks by RIMMER on the way to
the table where LISTER is sitting with SELBY and CHEN.

PETERSEN: Have you read Rimmer’s arm?
CHEN: No, I’m waiting for it to come out in paperback!

The group breaks up laughing.

LISTER: Petersen, have you got a quarter?

PETERSEN reaches down and gets a quarter for LISTER.

LISTER: I’ve just been shown this great new intelligence test. What
you’ve gotta do is force the coin onto your forehead. And then the
more times you can bang yourself on the head, the more intelligent you
are.

LISTER demonstrates this to PETERSEN as he is talking. The coin falls
off after he hits himself on the back of the head four times.

LISTER: You gonna go for it?

PETERSEN takes his hat off and steels himself for the task.

HIS FRIENDS: He’s going for it!

LISTER puts the coin to PETERSEN’s head, in preparation.

LISTER: Ready? OK. Can you feel it?
PETERSEN: Yep.
LISTER: Can you feel it?
PETERSEN: Yep.

LISTER removes his hand from PETERSEN’s forehead. Without PETERSEN
realising it, he also took away the coin.

LISTER: Can you feel it?
PETERSEN: Yep.
LISTER: Go!

The group starts to chant PETERSEN on, and while he pummels himself in
the back of the head.

At the front of the room, TODHUNTER, Captain HOLLISTER, and a hologram of
George MACINTYRE are sitting at a table. HOLLISTER stands and the room
grows quiet.

HOLLISTER: Folks, today is a day for both sadness and joy. Sadness, for
the passing away of George, and joy, because George is back with us —
albeit as a hologram.
Now some of you may not have travelled with a hologram before, so I ask
you to treat him as a normal man, because he is in every respect like
George. He has George’s personality and George’s knowledge and
experience.
Of course, he can’t lift anything or touch anything, so I ask you to
cooperate with his requests. And please, take every care not to walk
through him, not even when you’re in a hurry. Thank you.

General applause, and cries of “Speech! Speech!”

MACINTYRE: I want to thank everybody for giving me such a marvellous
funeral. I’ve just seen the vid. And I want to thank the Captain for
his beautiful eulogy. Beautiful. But I still don’t understand why he
didn’t use the one I wrote. (General laughter.)
This must seem pretty spooky for everyone, but I don’t want you to
think of me as someone who’s dead, more as someone who’s no longer a
threat to your marriages. (More laughter) I think Joe knows what I’m
talking about.

Red Dwarf quote from the first ever episode
As you know, Holly’s only capable of sustaining one hologram. So, my
advice to anyone more vital to the mission than me is: if you die,
I’ll kill you. (Laughter followed by applause.)
TODHUNTER: Please be upstanding for the cutting of the cake.

Everyone stands and Captain HOLLISTER cuts the cake.

TODHUNTER: (Raising his glass) Flight Coordinator George MacIntyre.
ALL: George!

As the toast is drunk, we hear the sound of someone, probably LISTER,
gargling into his glass.

HOLLISTER: OK. Just one thing before the disco, Holly tells me that he’s
sensed a non-human life form aboard.
LISTER: Sir, it’s Rimmer!
HOLLISTER: We don’t know *what* it is, Lister. So just be careful, OK?
LISTER: I’m turning you in, Rimmer.

RIMMER pulls out his notebook and pointedly begins to write.

LISTER: (With his friends) Ooooh!

6 Int. Sleeping quarters.

RIMMER is wearing shorts and singlet, and every visible part of his skin
is covered with notes.

RIMMER: Right. They’re bound to ask the right thigh, which is 10 per
cent. They must ask the left thigh, which is 20 per cent. They’ve
*got* to ask one of the forearms. Which means I’ve passed already!
Anything on the left shin’s a bonus!
(Looking at one arm) Right. CUTIE: Current under tension is …
what’s this? Current under tension is equal? Current under tension is
expandable? Current under tension is expensive? What does this mean?
(Begining to panic) What does any of it mean? I’ve covered my body in
complete and utter and total absolute nonsense gibberish! Aaaargh!
Just relax, relax, relax, relax–

LISTER, sleeping in the top bunk, is woken up by RIMMER’s raving. RIMMER
notices and makes an effort to appear calm.

RIMMER: Er, plus 20 per cent of the ship’s course minus the Pythagoras
theorem multiplied by two over the X axis minus one equals the total
velocity of Red Dwarf, which means I know everything about astro-
engineering. Good morning, Lister, for probably the last time.
LISTER: You’ve got it all down, have you, Rimmer?
RIMMER: Couple of blanks, (slapping his buttocks) but I think we’re
there.
LISTER: So you can’t remember anything?
RIMMER: Think what you will, Lister.

RIMMER begins to pull on his overalls.

LISTER: Rimmer, F-I-S-H, that’s how you spell “fish.” Then you just keel
over. I’m sure it’ll all come flooding back to you.
RIMMER: Dry up, Lister.

The intercom honks.

HOLLY: Will entrants for the engineer’s examination now make their way to
the teaching room.
LISTER: Well, Rimmer, honestly, good luck.
RIMMER: It’s all right, Lister. I’m in *complete* and total control.

RIMMER picks up his briefcase and leaves the cabin, turning right. After
a short pause, he hurries back across the doorway in the opposite
direction.

LISTER: Lock. (Nothing happens.) *Lock!* (The door closes.)

LISTER climbs down from his bunk. We hear faint meows. He opens a
locker, pulls out a bottle of milk and a bowl, and goes over to an air
conditioning grating on the wall.

LISTER: (Calling into the grating) Frankenstein! Come on, Frankenstein!

LISTER puts the bowl on the floor and pours some milk into it, spilling
half of it all over the floor. Then he opens the grating and lifts out a
large black cat.

LISTER: Oh, but you’re getting really big now, you know? I hope it’s not
twins. You’ve already got all me milk ration. Never mind, when the
baby cat comes, maybe we can give him water and pretend it’s milk.
It’s only a baby cat, it won’t know, eh?
(Pulling a photo out of his pocket.) Do you want to see my picture of
Fiji again, Frankie? You’re going to love it there. Look.

LISTER holds the photo up to the CAT, who looks the other way.

7 Int. Examining room.

RIMMER and several others are taking the exam. TODHUNTER is monitoring.

TODHUNTER: Okay, everybody. You’ve got three hours. No modems, no
speaking slide rules. Turn over and start. Good luck.

RIMMER examines his paper, looking more and more confused. He looks
around at the others, but they all seem to be doing all right. Finally
(after checking that TODHUNTER isn’t looking) he rolls up his sleeve.
Unfortunately he discovers that he’s smeared all his notes into
illegibility! After sitting there in mortal terror for a moment, he
simply slams down his ink-covered hand onto the paper to leave a palm-
print. He signs it, stands up, gives the bemused TODHUNTER a spectacular
triple-Rimmer salute, and faints.

8 Int. Drive room.

Various people doing the usual technical-looking things that people need
to do to run a huge spaceship. LISTER walks in and goes to Kristine
KOCHANSKI’s station.

LISTER: Hi. Where’s the Captain’s office?
KOCHANSKI: Over there, Where it says “Captain’s Office.” Where it’s
always said “Captain’s Office.”
LISTER: So that’s the Captain’s office! So how are you then?
KOCHANSKI: Fine.
LISTER: Do you know what he wants to see me for?
KOCHANSKI: Yes, I think you’ve been promoted to Admiral.
LISTER: Oh yeah?
KOCHANSKI: Yeah. For your diligence and general devotion to duty.
LISTER: Oh yeah?!

Captain HOLLISTER walks in from his office.

HOLLISTER: Lister!

He motions for LISTER to come into his office, which he does.

LISTER: You asked to see me, Captain?
HOLLISTER: Where’s the cat?
LISTER: What? What cat?
HOLLISTER: Lister, not only are you so stupid you bring aboard an
unquarantined animal and jeopardise every man and woman on this ship —
not only that — but you take a photograph of yourself *with* the cat
and send it to be processed in the ship’s lab. Now, I’m going to ask
you again, do you have a cat?
LISTER: No.
HOLLISTER: (Holding up a photo of LISTER and FRANKENSTEIN) Have you got a
*cat*?
LISTER: Er, yes, that one.
HOLLISTER: Where’d you get it? Titan?
LISTER: Yes.
HOLLISTER: Don’t you realise that that thing could be carrying
*anything*? Don’t you remember what happened on the “Oregon” with the
rabbits? Lister, a loose animal aboard this ship could get anywhere.
It could get into the air ducts. It could get into Holly. You know, a
little nibble here and a little nibble there, Lister, and before you
know it we’re flying *backwards*. Now I want that cat, and I want it
*now*.
LISTER: Sir, just suppose I did have a cat. Just suppose. What would
you do with Frankenstein?
HOLLISTER: I’d send it down to the medical centre, and I’d have it cut up
and tests run on it.
LISTER: Would you put it back together when you’d finished?
HOLLISTER: Lister, the cat would be dead.
LISTER: So, with respect, sir, what’s in it for the cat?
HOLLISTER: Lister, give me that cat!
LISTER: It’s not as easy as that! Me and the cat, we’re going to have a
baby cat, and we’re going to buy a farm on Fiji, and we’re going to
have a sheep and a cow and three horses, it’s me *plan*, and no one can
get in the way of it, not even you, and I do respect you!
(Remembering) Sir!
HOLLISTER: Lister, do you want to go into stasis for the rest of the trip
and forfeit 18 months wages?
LISTER: No.
HOLLISTER: Do you want to give me that cat?
LISTER: No!
HOLLISTER: Choose.

9 Int. Corridor.

LISTER and TODHUNTER are walking down a corridor toward a stasis booth.

TODHUNTER: Look, today, no one wants to go through with this.
LISTER: It’s okay, I can handle it.

Two medical technicians are wheeling RIMMER past on a stretcher.

LISTER: RIMMER, are you all right?
RIMMER: (In a stupor) I can’t really remember. I think I did quite well.

The technicians move on.

LISTER: Is this going to hurt?
TODHUNTER: Haven’t you ever travelled interstellar?
LISTER: No.
TODHUNTER: Oh, you don’t feel a thing. The stasis room creates a static
field of time. See, just as X-rays can’t pass through lead, time
cannot penetrate a stasis field. So, although you exist, you no longer
exists in time, and for you time itself does not exist. You see,
although you’re still a mass, you are no longer an event in space-time,
you are a non-event mass with a quantum probability of zero.
LISTER: Oh. Simple as that, eh?

TODHUNTER opens the door, and LISTER steps inside.

LISTER: OK, I’m ready.
TODHUNTER: See you in 18 months.

TODHUNTER closes the door

TODHUNTER: (To HOLLY) Holly, activate the stasis field.
HOLLY: OK, Frank.

Dave Lister from Red Dwarf in Stasis

We see the Red Dwarf drifting through space while the clock-like music
indicates the passage of time.

11 Int. Stasis booth.

LISTER, in the same pose as before, unfreezes. The door opens and he
walks out.

HOLLY: Good morning, Dave. It is now safe for you to emerge from stasis.
LISTER: Haven’t I just gone in?
HOLLY: Please proceed to the Drive Room for debriefing.

LISTER walks down the corridor, looking around. As he enters the mess,
he notices small piles of white powder on some of the tables.

LISTER: Where is everybody, Hol?

LISTER sticks his finger in one of the piles of white powder and tastes
it.

HOLLY: They’re dead, Dave.
LISTER: Who is?
HOLLY: Everybody, Dave.
LISTER: What, Captain Hollister?
HOLLY: Everybody’s dead, Dave.
LISTER: What, Todhunter?
HOLLY: Everybody’s dead, Dave.
LISTER: What, Selby?
HOLLY: They’re all dead. Everybody’s dead, Dave.

Keep calm and carry on Red Dwarf

12 Int. Corridor.

LISTER is still trying to understand what HOLLY is saying.

LISTER: Petersen isn’t, is he?
HOLLY: Everybody is *dead*, Dave.
LISTER: Not Chen?
HOLLY: Gordon Bennett! Yes! Chen, everybody. Everybody’s dead, Dave.
LISTER: Rimmer?
HOLLY: He’s dead, Dave. Everybody’s dead. Everybody is dead, Dave!
LISTER: Wait. Are you trying to tell me everybody’s dead?
HOLLY: I wish I’d never let him out in the first place.

13 Int. Drive room.

LISTER enters. There are more of the little piles of white powder
everywhere.

LISTER: How?
HOLLY: The drive plate was inefficiently repaired. It blew, and the
entire crew was subjected to a lethal dose of cadmium 2 before I could
seal the area.

LISTER brushes the powder off a chair and sits in it.

LISTER: Oh, this is terrible. And why is it so dirty around here, Hol?
What is this stuff?

LISTER dips his finger in another pile and tastes it.

HOLLY: That is Catering Officer Olaf Petersen.
LISTER: (Quickly spitting it out) Aaaah! I’ve been eating half the crew!
And who’s that?
HOLLY: That’s Captain Hollister.
LISTER: And that’s Todhunter.
HOLLY: No, that’s Second Technician Rimmer.
LISTER: Oh, yeah? I didn’t recognise him without his report book. What
was Rimmer doing in the Drive Room?
HOLLY: He was explaining to the Captain why he hadn’t sealed the drive
plate properly.

He brushes Petersen’s remains onto the floor and puts his feet up.

LISTER: So wait on. How long was I in stasis?
HOLLY: Well, I couldn’t release you until the radiation reached a safe
background level.
LISTER: How *long*?
HOLLY: Three million years.
LISTER: Three million years?! (Pause) I’ve still got that library book.
And what about Krissie? What about Krissie Kochanski?
HOLLY: She’s dead, Dave.
LISTER: Oh, hey!
HOLLY: I don’t suppose it’s any consolation, but if she *were* still
alive, the age difference would be insurmountable.
LISTER: She was part of me plan. I never got round to telling her, but
she was going to come with me to Fiji. She was going to wear a white
dress and ride the horses and I was going to take care of everything
else. It was me plan. I planned it.
HOLLY: Well, she won’t be much use to you on Fiji now. Not unless it
snows and you need something to grit the path with.
LISTER: Holly!
HOLLY: Sorry. I’m sorry about that. I’ve been on my own for three
million years, and I’m just used to saying what I think. I think I’ve
gone a bit peculiar, to tell you the truth.
LISTER: So everyone’s dead? I’m on me own? There’s just me?
HOLLY: Well, technically speaking, yes.
LISTER: What do you mean, “technically speaking?”

RIMMER walks in. He’s a hologram.

RIMMER: Hello, Lister. Long time no see.
LISTER: Rimmer! You’re a hologram?!
RIMMER: Yes. That’s because I’m dead. Dead as a can of spam. And it’s
all thanks to you.
LISTER: Me? What did I do?
RIMMER: If you hadn’t kept that stupid cat, Lister, and hadn’t been sent
to stasis, I would have had some help when I was mending the drive
plate, and I wouldn’t be dead.
LISTER: What’s it feel like?
RIMMER: Death? It’s like being on holiday with a group of Germans.
LISTER: No, I mean being a hologram.

LISTER waves his hand through RIMMER’s stomach. RIMMER jumps back in
disgust, and LISTER looks at his hand in amazement.

RIMMER: Do you mind? Being a hologram is fine, Lister. I still have the
same drives, the same feelings, the same emotions, but I can’t *touch*
anything. Never again will I be able to brush a rose against my cheek,
cradle a laughing child, or interfere with a woman sexually.
LISTER: Rimmer, you never used to do any of those things anyway!
RIMMER: But I would have done one day, murderer!
LISTER: Hey, hey! I didn’t do anything! It was *you* who didn’t fix the
drive plates properly.
RIMMER: (Looking at one of the piles of powder) Is this me here?
LISTER: Yeah.
RIMMER: Me?
LISTER: Come on, Rimmer, look on the bright side.
RIMMER: The bright side? *What* bright side? I’m dead, I’m composed
entirely of light, and I’m alone in space with a man who’d lose a
battle of wits with a stuffed iguana. Where’s the bright side?
LISTER: What’s an iguana? And look, look, you’re not dead, are ya? I
mean, you’re dead! But you’re not *dead* dead, because you’re still
here, aren’t you?
RIMMER: Lister, I’m not really here! I’m not really *me*! Don’t you
see? I’m a computer simulation of me. That’s me, there, that pile of
albino mouse droppings.
LISTER: Come on. Lot’s of people have died. Lots of people have died
and then gone on and done really, really well. You’re a hologram. So
what?
RIMMER: I suppose you’re right, Lister. I’ve got to pull myself
together. But you’ve got to help me. You’ve got to be my hands and my
touch.
LISTER: I know the sort of things you like to touch. No way, Rimmer.
Forget it.
RIMMER: Are you smoking, Lister? In the Drive Room?
LISTER: Yeah. I stopped for quite a while, but I’m back on them now.
RIMMER: You’re on report, squire. (He reaches for his notebook, but it’s
not there.) I can’t write it down. I’ll remember it.
LISTER: Ohhh! Rimmer, look, I know it’s wrong of me to speak ill of the
dead and all that, but you’re still a smeghead.
RIMMER: I beg your pardon?
LISTER: (Leaving the room) I said, you’re still a smeghead.
RIMMER: Lister, do you have any conception of the penalty for describing
a deceased superior technician as a smeghead?

RIMMER goes to lean on a table, and falls through it.

14 Int. Another corridor.

RIMMER is following LISTER.

RIMMER: Lister, will you listen to me? Just listen to me.
LISTER: Just shut up. Shut up.

They proceed out of sight. After they’re gone, an air vent falls off the
wall, and a guy dressed in a pink suit climbs out of the duct. This is
the CAT. He does a somersault and three twirls.

CAT: Aaahhh, ooowww, eee! How am I looking? (He pulls out a small
mirror.) Looking nice. No, wait a minute. I’m looking better than
nice. I’m looking dangerous. Aaaoooww, dangerous! Aaaooowww!
Hey, what’s that? Oh, it’s my shadow. Hey, even my shadow’s looking
nice! I’m looking nice, my shadow’s looking nice — what a team! We
are unbelievable! OK, team, this way. (He points in one direction and
then changes his mind) No, this way. Aaaooowww, yeah. (He reaches an
intersection) This way!

15 Int. Another corridor.

RIMMER is still following LISTER.

RIMMER: Lister, just hold your horses. Listen to me–

He’s interrupted by the CAT spinning into view.

CAT: Aaaooowww! (Notices LISTER and RIMMER) Uh oh. Better make myself
look big!

The CAT holds up his claws and looks fierce. LISTER and RIMMER turn tail
and run.

CAT: Hee hee! Fearsome. I was fearsome! (Singing) Just me and my
shadow, ooohhh! Come on boy, walking down the avenue…

16 Int. Mess hall.

LISTER and RIMMER are backing away from the door, until LISTER backs into
a table and nearly jumps out of his skin.

LISTER: Aaahhh! Holly, what was that?
HOLLY: During the radioactive crisis, Dave, your cat and her kittens were
safely sealed in the hold. And they’ve been breeding there for three
million years, and have evolved into the life form you just saw in the
corridor.
LISTER: I don’t get it.
HOLLY: Well, you know how mankind evolved from apes?
LISTER: Yeah, I know that.
HOLLY: He evolved from cats. His ancestors were cats. He’s descended
from cats. He is a cat.

Suddenly the CAT enters the room, twirling and howling.

CAT: Aaahhh, ooohhh, yeah– (Freezing as he notices the others.)
LISTER: Hello … Cat?
CAT: (Noticing something on his sleeve) Whoa! Crease!

CAT pulls out a small steam iron and runs it over the sleeve.

RIMMER: Stand back, Lister.

Screaming incoherently, RIMMER takes up a Kung Fu posture and leaps at
the cat, hands and feet flying everywhere. He passes straight through
the astonished CAT and disappears out the door.

17 Int. Sleeping quarters.

LISTER retrieves the milk and bowl and some cereal from his locker and
pours some out.

LISTER: Here you go, Cat.
CAT: Ah, Krispies!
LISTER: Holly says you like these.
CAT: Mmmm!

LISTER puts the bowl down on the floor, in the place he used to feed
Frankenstein.

CAT: Hey! You monkeys eat off the *floor*? Ain’t you got no style or
sophistication?
LISTER: Oh, I’m sorry, Cat. I’m sorry.

LISTER picks up the bowl and puts it on the table in front of the CAT.

CAT: You people are unbelievable.

CAT starts to lick up the cereal and milk with his tongue.

LISTER: Where are all your other catty friends, Cat?
CAT: Good Krispies, man!
LISTER: But where are all the other little kitties? Are they gone? Are
they dead? Have they left you?
RIMMER: Who cares? I want it off the ship!
LISTER: No! He’s coming home with us, aren’t you, Cat?
RIMMER: Home? And where exactly is home supposed to be?
LISTER: Earth.
RIMMER: Earth? What makes you think there’ll be any Earth, Lister? And
even if there is, look what it’s done to a household pet in three
million years.

CAT takes out a toothbrush and begins grooming his eyebrows.

RIMMER: Can you imagine what humankind has evolved into? To them, you’ll
be the equivalent of the slime that first crawled out of the oceans.
LISTER: I could smarten meself up a bit.
RIMMER: Naah. You’re a dinosaur. You’re extinct. You’ve got nothing.
LISTER: Hey, hey! I’ve still got me plan. And I’ve still got a cat.
OK, it’s not Frankenstein, but it’s still a cat.
CAT: Did you say Frankenstein?
LISTER: Yeah. She was your great great great great great great
grandmother or something.
CAT: The Holy Mother? The Virgin Birth? No one believes that stuff!
RIMMER: The Virgin Birth?!
LISTER: No, it was a big black tom on Titan.
CAT: Frankenstein, yeah! I remember that stuff from kitty school. The
Holy Mother, saved by Cloister the Stupid, who was frozen in time, and
who gaveth of his life that we might live.
LISTER: No! No, it’s not Cloister, it’s me, it’s Lister! It’s *Lister*
the … stupid?!
CAT: Who shall returneth to lead us to Fushal, the Promised Land.
LISTER: No, it’s not Fushal, it’s Fiji! And I will! I’ll lead you
there. (To RIMMER) *That’s* where we’re going. Holly, plot a course
for Fiji. Look out, Earth — the slime’s coming home!

Overlayed on the screen in title characters, we read: THE BEGINNING.

Credits:

Rimmer Chris Barrie
Lister Craig Charles
Cat Danny John-Jules
Holly Norman Lovett
Todhunter Robert Bathurst
Chen Paul Bradley
Selby David Gillespie
Captain Hollister Mac McDonald
MacIntyre Robert McCulley
Petersen Mark Williams
Kochanski C P Grogan
Written by Rob Grant
Doug Naylor
Music Howard Goodall
Developed for Television by Paul Jackson Productions
Graphic Designer Mark Allen
Visual Effects Designer Peter Wragg
Properties Buyer Duncan Wheeler
Assistant Floor Manager Dona Distefano
Production Assistant Alison Thornber
Unit Manager Mario Dubois
Production Manager George R. Clarke
Costume Designer Jacki Pinks
Make-up Designer Suzanne Jansen
Vision Mixer Jill Dornan
Camera Supervisor Melvyn Cross
Technical Co-ordinator Ron Clare
Videotape Editor Ed Wooden
Lighting Director John Pomphrey
Sound Supervisor Tony Worthington
Designer Paul Montague
Executive Producer Paul Jackson
Produced & Directed by Ed Bye

MCMLXXXVII

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