Full script for Red Dwarf Confidence and Paranoia

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!

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
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.

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
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?
RIMMER: And, you started to hallucinate, all right?
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
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

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,
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!
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

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
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.
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?
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!

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
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.


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
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?
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!
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.


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.
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
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.

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

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