Wednesday, 31 October 2012

Series I Episode 6, "Me^2

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

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

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
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.
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
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

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.)

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're
  talking 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
RIMMER: (On the video) ...we see the final moments of Arnold J.  Rimmer.

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

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
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.
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

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
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
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
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
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

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.

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.
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.
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
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,
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

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

RIMMER #2: (Shouting through the wall) CAN YOU SHUT UP, RIMMER?! SOME OF
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.


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.
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
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

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
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

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.
LISTER: So, um, what's all this gazpacho soup business?  What's it all

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.  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
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
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.


                                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


Series I Episode 5, "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.
  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...

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.

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
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.
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?
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


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

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?
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
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?
TOASTER: Some nice hot crisp brown buttered toast?
TOASTER: You don't want any toast then?
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.
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
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

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
RIMMER: General investigation, eh?
CAT: Yeah.
RIMMER: Ahhhh, splendid!
CAT: Thank you.
RIMMER: Keep it up.
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
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
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
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!

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

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
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
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
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.

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

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.

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
HOLLY: The Blue Hats thought it was a star chart leading to the promised
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
RIMMER: I'm not interested.
LISTER: But don't you think it's amazing?
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
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
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!! (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

RIMMER: (VO) It's a garbage pod!

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



                                Rimmer  Chris Barrie
                                Lister  Craig Charles
                                   Cat  Danny John-Jules
                                 Holly  Norman Lovett
                            Cat Priest  Noel Coleman
                               Toaster  John Lenahan
                            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  Mike Jackson
                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