RED DWARF Series II Episode 6, "Parallel Universe"
1 Int. A stage.
CAT, LISTER, and RIMMER are dressed in pink suits with frills on a stage.
RIMMER's "H" is jewel-studded. Behind them on some scaffolding are girls
in black and white dresses. CAT starts to sing. During the ensuing
dance, HOLLY appears on screen in a variety of style-less wigs.
The CAT: (Chorus -- LISTER and RIMMER:)
When I saw you for the first time (first time)
My knees began to quiver (quiver)
And I got a funny feeling (feeling)
In my kidneys and my liver (digestive system baby)
My hands they started shakin' (shakin')
My heart began a-thumpin' (boom boom boom)
My breakfast left my body (huey huey huey)
It all really tells me something
Girl you make me tongue tied (tongue tied)
Tongue tied, whenever you are near me (near me)
Tied tongue (tied tongue)
Tied tongue (tied tongue)
Whenever you're in town
I saw you on the dance floor (dancin')
I thought of birds and bees (reproductive system baby)
I barely tried to speak to ya (talk talk)
My tongue unraveled to my knees (flippety-flippety-thump)
I tried to say I love you (love you)
But it came out kind of wrong girl (wrong girl)
It sounded like min-oo-bitty-boo (tongue tied)
Na-nee-ner-ner-nee-nung, nirl
'Cause you make me tongue tied (tongue tied)
Tongue tied, whenever you are near me
Be-dobby-durgle (dobby-durgle)
Tongue tied (tongue tied)
Whenever you're around
Oh I'm beggin' on my knees
Sweet, sweet darling, listen please
Understand me when I saaaaaay
(Lister grabs himself on this high note.)
Bedurble-diggle-doggle-dooby-doggle-durgle-day
I'm trying to say nungy-nangy (nangy-nungy)
Ningy-nongy, but I can't tell you clearly (clearly)
Be-dobby-durgle (dobby-durgle)
Durgle-dobby (durble-dobby)
Whenever you're around (around)
Whenever you're around (around)
2 Int. Sleeping quarters.
CAT is sitting at a machine that looks a bit like a microscope (a dream
viewer) LISTER is on his bunk and RIMMER is on an exercise bike.
RIMMER's bike has a large H on it. CAT's song and dance number can be
heard playing on the dream recorder.
CAT: No, this isn't the one.
LISTER: What isn't?
CAT: I'm looking for this dream I had last month on the dream recorder.
It was sensational.
LISTER: What was it about?
CAT: Me, three girls and a family-sized tub of banana yoghurt!
RIMMER: You know, cats have a very strange attitude to women if you ask
me.
CAT: Say what, Goalpost Head?
RIMMER: It's all sex, and no sense of settling down and having a long-
term relationship.
CAT: Hey, I want to settle down. And as soon as I find the right small
group of girls, the seven or eight women who are right for me, my
wandering days are over, buddy.
CAT leaves the room.
RIMMER: You see? Totally maladjusted.
LISTER: That's rich, you know. I mean, coming from the man who's
favourite book is "How To Pick Up Girls By Hypnosis."
RIMMER: There's nothing wrong with that, Lister. It's a good book. Full
of handy hints as well, and it works.
LISTER: Get outta town.
RIMMER gets off the bike.
RIMMER: That's how I met Lorraine -- by hypnotising her.
LISTER: You hypnotised a girl into going out with you?
RIMMER: Yes. I gave her the old "there's something in your eye"
technique, fixed her with a mesma-stare, and bingo -- she agreed to
come on a date.
LISTER: What was wrong with her?
RIMMER: Nothing.
LISTER: C'mon, a girl agrees to go out with you, and there was nothing
wrong with her?
RIMMER: She was an extrememly attractive and bright young lady.
LISTER: Hmm, it must work then.
RIMMER: Of course, she had an artificial nose.
LISTER: What!?
RIMMER: Oh, tastefully done. Quality metal. No rivets.
LISTER: Come on, what happened?
RIMMER: Well, things were a little bit stilted in the taxi. All my jokes
about her nose hadn't gone down too well. And they were good gags -- I
mean quality gags like, "Where are we going? Who nose." No cheap
shots. Anyway, when we got to the restaraunt she must have had an
attack of nerves or something. She said she was going to the loo and
ended up climbing out of the toilet window.
LISTER: I wonder why.
RIMMER: It's not 'cos she didn't want to see me, Lister. She phoned the
next day and said how much she'd LOVE to come on another date with me,
only suddenly she had to move to Pluto.
LISTER: You're a sad weasel of a man, you know that, Rimmer?
RIMMER: No, it's just that I'm ill at ease with the opposite sex.
LISTER: It's because you see them as some alien species that needs to be
conquered with trickery. They're not -- they're people. You don't
need your book on hypnosis and, and... what's the other one? "1001
Fabulous Chat-up Lines."
RIMMER: Lister, I _do_ need that. It's brilliant. Those chat-up lines
are guaranteed.
LISTER: There's no such thing.
RIMMER: Alright. You be a woman. On your own in a bar, short leather
miniskirt, peephole bra.
LISTER: OK. Go on.
RIMMER: Now this is the most incredible chat-up line you've ever heard in
your life. Guaranteed.
LISTER: Go on.
RIMMER: OK, in a bar, on you own. (Pauses as he works up nerve.) Excuse
me, would you like to join me for a cocktail?
LISTER: No.
RIMMER: You can't say "no." It doesn't work when you say "no." You've got
to say "yes."
LISTER: Oh, right. Okay. Go on, go on.
RIMMER: So, would you like a wormdo?
LISTER: What's that, then?
RIMMER: What's what?
LISTER: A wormdo.
RIMMER: What about it?
LISTER: Is this still the opening line?
RIMMER: But you're not giving me the right replies!
LISTER: What is the right reply?
RIMMER: I come up to you and say, "Excuse me, would you like to join me
in a cocktail?" You say, "Yes." I say, "Would you like a wormdo?" You
say, "What's a wormdo?" And I say...
LISTER: "Oh, it wriggles along the ground like that."
RIMMER: You know it!
LISTER: Rimmer, you could not pull a rotten tooth out of a dead horse's
head with that one.
HOLLY appears on a monitor screen.
HOLLY: Eureka. I've done it.
LISTER: Done what?
HOLLY: The Earl of Sandwich invented the sandwich, Samuel Morse invented
the Morse Code, Plato invented the plate, and now I, Holly, have
invented the Holly Hop Drive.
RIMMER: Ooh, I can't wait to see it.
HOLLY: It's monumental, this. It's epoch-making. The Holly Hop Drive
can transfer any object instantly to any other point in space.
LISTER: What? You mean we can go back to Earth?
HOLLY: In a matter of seconds.
LISTER: What, you mean we can go back to Earth, like, right now? This
instant?
HOLLY: Right on.
LISTER: Rock and roll!
3 Int. Drive room.
LISTER and RIMMER view HOLLY's creation -- a small box.
LISTER: Is this it?
He holds up the HOLLY Hop Drive.
HOLLY: What do you think?
LISTER: It's just a box with "STOP" and "START" on it!
HOLLY: It's fairly straightforward. If you want to start it you press
"START," and you can work out the rest of the controls for yourself.
RIMMER: It's absolutely pathetic.
HOLLY: Right. Let's Holly Hop. Engage drive... drive engaged.
Initiating ignition sequence... ignition sequence initiated.
RIMMER: Get on with it.
HOLLY: It takes time, this. One slight error in any of my thirteen
billion calculations and we'll be blasted to smithereens. Here we go,
then: 10, 9, 8, 6, 5--
RIMMER: You missed out the seven.
HOLLY: Did I? I've always had a bit of a blind spot with sevens.
RIMMER: (Sotto voce) We're going to die.
HOLLY: No problem. I'll start lower down. 1, blast off.
LISTER thumps the "START" button on the HOLLY Hop Drive.
4 Ext. Red Dwarf.
Suddenly it vanishes in a flash of white light.
5 Int. Drive room.
HOLLY: We've done it. We're home.
RIMMER: It worked?
LISTER: We're at Earth? You must be joking!
HOLLY: Half a mo'.
He vanishes from the monitor, and returns almost immediately.
HOLLY: It's gone.
CAT: What has?
HOLLY: The Earth. It's missing. It's not there. Wait a minute --
sorry, I was looking out of the wrong window.
He goes for another look.
HOLLY: No, no, it has gone. The entire Solar System is missing.
RIMMER: Well, what is actually out there?
HOLLY: Nothing. Just space.
RIMMER: Holly, the thought occurs that we haven't actually reached Earth.
The further thought occurs that we haven't actually budged a smegging
inch.
HOLLY: No, no, we have. It's just I don't know where we are. I've got
to admit it, I've flamingoed-up.
RIMMER: What?
HOLLY: It's like a cock-up, only much, much bigger. (Pause) Wait, there
is something there. It's another ship.
RIMMER: Aliens!
LISTER: Punch it up.
HOLLY: It looks like an exact copy of Red Dwarf.
LISTER: Eh? So what's happened?
HOLLY: Somehow, don't ask me how, we've jumped into a Parallel Universe.
We've entered the fifth dimension.
RIMMER: What's the fifth dimension?
LISTER: Didn't they get to Number Six with that "Baby I Want Your Love
Thing?"
HOLLY: You've got your basic dimensions, right, length, breadth, depth
and time. The fifth dimension is co-existing realities, two bodies who
share the same space but are unaware of each other's existence.
RIMMER: Sounds like my parents in bed.
LISTER: So hang on. This is another Red Dwarf, with another Rimmer and
Lister on board?
RIMMER: Will they be be exactly the same as us?
HOLLY: No, there will be differences. This is parallel universe, innit?
RIMMER: What do you mean?
HOLLY: Well, for instance, in this universe, it could be that Hitler won
the Second World War. It could be something even more incredible, like
perhaps Ringo was a really _good_ drummer. Hang on, I'm linking up
with their on-board computer.
A second face appears beside HOLLY's. The shape of the face is much the
same, but with one important difference -- it is female.
HILLY: Hello, I'm Hilly.
HOLLY: Hello, I'm Holly.
HILLY: Hello, Holly.
HOLLY: Hello, Hilly.
HILLY: Well, this is a turn-up, innit? You'd better boogie on over and
we can sort it out.
HOLLY: Right on, sis.
HILLY: See you, Hol.
HOLLY: See you, Hil.
HILLY's face disappears.
HOLLY: I'm in there.
6 Ext. Blue Midget.
The guys boogie on over in Blue Midget.
7 Int. Docking bay. Other Red Dwarf.
RIMMER steps through the airlock, followed by a skutter, then CAT and
finally LISTER.
RIMMER: It's identical in every detail to our Red Dwarf!
CAT: Very funny smell around here that I don't like one bit. (To LISTER)
It smells like your moon-boots, man. I'm going to get rid of it.
He pulls out two cans of CAT scent-marking. He moves off down the
corridor, spraying.
CAT: That's mine, this is mine...
LISTER: So where are the other Rimmer and Lister, then?
They head for the door to the main corridor. It opens as they reach it,
revealing... a female LISTER and RIMMER. They look pretty surprised.
DAVE hits a door control panel, while ARNOLD looks down the corridor. He
doesn't realise that the females are there until ARLENE speaks.
ARLENE: So, you're not aliens.
She walks over to ARNOLD, while DEBBIE walks over to her male
counterpart.
DAVE: Hi.
DEBBIE: Hi.
ARNOLD and ARLENE give one another a Full-Rimmer Salute.
ARLENE: How do you do?
ARNOLD: How do you do?
DAVE: So you must be Lister?
DEBBIE: And you are too.
LISTER: I hope so.
ARLENE: You must be Rimmer. So am I.
ARNOLD: Splendid.
DEBBIE: Deb.
DAVE: Dave.
ARNOLD: Arnold.
ARLENE: Arlene.
ARNOLD: Indeedy.
The skutter hums past, on it's way to explore the ship. It passes a
female skutter, who stops, optical sensor wide, then wheels off in
pursuit.
8 Int. Sleeping Quarters. Other Red Dwarf.
DAVE and DEBBIE enter, passing the fridge.
DAVE: So, you come from a universe which is exactly the same as ours?
(Gesturing toward the fridge) Can I?
DEBBIE: Yeah.
DAVE takes two cans of Leopard Lager out of the fridge and hands one to
DEBBIE. Worth noting the posters inside the fridge.
DAVE: --only everything's ... opposite?
DEBBIE: Oh, I don't know if everything's opposite. It seems like that.
DAVE: So you come from a female-orientated society?
DEBBIE: Well, it's not exactly female-orientated anymore, not since the
sixties. You know, the equal-rights-for-men marches. You know, they
burned their jockstraps and all that.
DAVE: Stop!
DEBBIE: Haven't you read "The Male Eunuch" by Jeremy Greer?
DAVE: So, your history is parallel to ours as well? So, hang on... erm,
who was the first person on the moon?
DEBBIE: Nellie Armstrong.
LISTER: NELLIE Armstrong? So... who wrote Hamlet?
ARLENE: (Entering with ARNOLD) Will Shakespeare.
DAVE: Ah, so he was a bloke.
DEBBIE: No, she was a woman. Wilma Shakespeare.
ARLENE: Yeah, she wrote all the greats: "Racheal the Third," "The Taming
of the Shrimp."
ARNOLD: (Examing the table) My god, what's this?
ARLENE: Oh, "Camera Monthly" magazine.
ARNOLD: But, it's disgusting! It's full of semi-naked blokes draping
themselves over sports cars.
ARLENE: What's wrong with that? You're not one of those boring
masculinists, are you?
DAVE: So, sexual attitudes are opposite as well?
ARLENE: (To LISTER) What was that, my little cupcake?
DAVE: Your little what??
ARNOLD: But, it just looks ridiculous! I mean, these models are
deformed! Hugely deformed. It makes one feel quite... inadequate.
He tries nonchalantly to cover himself with his hands.
ARLENE: I wouldn't worry about that, my pretty. (She gropes his bum.)
DEBBIE: Hey, the holograms can touch each other!
CAT enters at a fast smooch.
CAT: Hey, hey, hey, hey! I hate to break up the party, but is there
somebody missing?
DEBBIE: How do you mean?
CAT: Well. (Pointing to DEBBIE) Lister, female opposite. (Pointing to
ARLENE) Rimmer, female opposite. Where's mine?
DEBBIE: Oh, right. Mooching around on the Cargo Decks, I think.
CAT: Wow! All my life I've waited for this moment, and now it has
arrived! Hey, listen, if you hear me screaming, do not -- I repeat, do
not -- come to the rescue! Whaaaaaoooooooow! (Running from the room,
singing) I'm gonna get you, little kitty...
DEBBIE: I think he's in for a bit of a shock.
DAVE: Why?
DEBBIE: His opposite isn't female.
DAVE: What is it?
DEBBIE: It's a dog.
9 Int. Cargo deck.
We see the aforementioned dog. He's hairy, dirty and slobby, wearing a
t-shirt with "DOG MARKET" written on it (probably of religious
significance). He is wearing a baseball glove and tossing a ball into
it. Like CAT, he speaks with an American dialect, but a different one --
Generic Hillbilly.
DOG: Boy, oh boy, Where'd they go? I get so danged panicky when they go
off and leave me on muh own like this! (He scratches behind one ear.)
Damn these fleas!
Looking around to be sure no-one is watching, he quickly eats it.
Enter CAT, humming a happy little cat-tune.
CAT: Dum-de-dee, I'm gonna get you, little kitty, I'm gonna get you...
He stops dead when he sees DOG, and goes white with shock.
CAT: I don't know what that is, but I'm sure he wants to eat me.
DOG: Well, trash mah shorts, what a funny-looking dog!
CAT: I'd better make myself look big! (He raises his arms and snarls.)
DOG: Put it there, Buddy, put it right there!
CAT, who was unfortunate enough to be inches away from DOG when he spoke,
goes reeling backwards, hand over nose.
CAT: Nyah! Argh! What kind of toothpaste does he use?! Rotting meat
flavour?
DOG: Oh, come on now. I wanna be your buddy! Tell you what -- I'm gonna
smell your behind, and you can smell mine! Now, is that a deal?
CAT: You wanna smell my WHAT!?
DOG: Why sure! Don't you wanna smell me?
CAT: Man, I could smell you if you was on Mars! When was the last time
you took a bath?
DOG: Oh please, don't say that word!
CAT: What, bath?
DOG: You said it again! Now listen up: if y'all gonna say that word in
front of me, please spell it.
CAT: When was the last time you took a B - A - T - H.
DOG: What's that?
DAVE enters.
DAVE: Yo, Cat. (To DOG) There you are. C'mon, errm, we're going to the
disco.
CAT: What?
DAVE: Yeah, Holly says it's gonna take seventeen hours to repair the Hop
Drive.
He sniffs the air in DOG's direction, looking a little disgusted.
DAVE: So I thought we'd, you know, go and have a few...
slaps his face as a flea hops on him
CAT: Alright, let's go! Yeah, yeah, yeah! Come on!
DOG says nothing. He just scratches himself some more before following.
Before that, when DAVE passes him, he sniffs again and looks even more
disgusted.
10 Int. Disco.
DAVE and DEBBIE are dancing, popping cans of lager. CAT and DOG are off
to one side, and the two goalpost-heads are in the bar.
DAVE and DEBBIE are drinking from mugs. The mugs are on the floor at
first, but they pick them up as part of their dance, drink, then spit
straight up before wiping their mouths.
11 Int. Disco bar.
ARNOLD: Well, they seem to be getting on, don't they?
ARLENE: Yes. Absolutely.
ARNOLD: Oh, yes.
ARLENE: Like a house on fire.
ARNOLD: You can say that again.
ARLENE: Oh, yes.
There is an uncomfortable pause.
ARLENE: Mind you, we've got a pretty good conversation going on here.
ARNOLD: Oh, yes, yes.
ARLENE: Absolutely.
ARNOLD: Funny, really. I'm not normally good at talking to the opposite
sex.
ARLENE: No, I'm not. I run out of things to say.
There is another long pause.
ARNOLD: Me, too.
Another long pause.
ARNOLD: So, you're a girl, then?
ARLENE: Yes.
ARNOLD: That's nice.
ARLENE: Hang on -- haven't you got something in your eye?
ARNOLD almost falls for it, then realises with dawning horror what is
happening.
ARNOLD: (Breaking eye contact) You're trying to hypnotise me, aren't you?
ARLENE: No, of course not.
ARNOLD: Well, stop staring, then.
ARLENE: I'm not staring.
ARNOLD: Yes you are.
ARLENE: Okay, I read it in this book. It's great for picking up bits of
tottie.
ARNOLD: Well, I'd hardly describe myself as a bit of "tottie."
ARLENE gets up and swaggers over to RIMMER. She leans over him.
ARLENE: Ohhh, yes. Tottie, tottie, tottie.
ARNOLD: I think you've had rather too much to drink. I always get like
this when I'm tanked up.
ARLENE: C'mon, you're interested.
ARNOLD: I assure you, I'm not.
ARLENE: Why are you giving me all the signs, then?
ARNOLD: What signs?
ARLENE: Wearing such tight-fit trousers? (So saying, she gropes his
goolies.)
ARNOLD: They're not tight.
ARLENE: Of course they are. You're begging for it.
ARNOLD: I'm not "tottie," and I'm not begging for anything!
ARLENE: C'mon, give us a snog! I promise I won't try and take off your
underpants.
ARNOLD: Look, I'm sorry, I'm just not that kind of g-- boy.
ARLENE, disappointed, goes back to her own seat. She points at RIMMER
and says, loudly, to the room at large:
ARLENE: Frigid!
ARNOLD: You're disgusting! You're only after me for one thing!
ARLENE: Why? How many have you got?
12 Int. Disco -- The pets.
The CAT and DOG are talking.
CAT: You're a great conversationalist, you know that?
DOG: I am, but I ain't said nothing yet.
He's eating from an enormous bone as he speaks.
CAT: Yeah, that's what I like best.
DAVE passes through.
DAVE: Yo, I'm going down the bar. You want anything?
CAT: Yeah, I'll have a grenade, thank you.
DAVE: A grenade?
CAT: Yeah. I'm gonna play fetch with the Dog.
13 Int. Disco bar.
ARNOLD is pressed in his seat, looking like someone meeting his worst
nightmare and finding out it's himself. ARLENE is bent over him, trying
to get her tongue in his ear. She looks horny and pished. Enter LISTER,
with two empty glasses.
ARNOLD: Listy! How are you me old mate, come and join us, please, god,
come and join us!
ARLENE, interrupted, decides to take a break.
ARLENE: I won't be long.
She leaves, but not without a final squeeze of RIMMER's breast, and a
word of advice to DAVE.
ARLENE: If you want to keep your beer cool, stick it between his legs.
DAVE: What was all that about?
ARNOLD: That is the most awful woman I've ever met.
DAVE: She's you.
ARNOLD: She's absolutely repugnant. She doesn't treat me like I'm a
normal human beiong at all, she seems to regard me as some sort of
discardable sex object.
DAVE: She's the female equivalent of you.
ARNOLD: Nonsense. She's maladjusted. Trust my luck to wind up with El
Weirdo while you trap off with the one with the juicy jugs.
DAVE: See! She thinks of men the exact same way you think of women.
It's disgusting.
ARNOLD: She accused me of wiggling my bottom in a provocative way! I was
just walking! Can I help it if I happen to be sexy? What's the other
one like?
DAVE: Totally gross. She's unbelievable. She tried to impress me by
drinking six pints of Lager then belching the whole of "Yankee Doodle
Dandy."
ARNOLD: That's your party piece, isn't it?
DAVE: Yeah, but when I do it, it's really stylish, man. (He burps what
might be the first bar of that song.) Class.
ARNOLD: Do you think that you'll, ehm, (He wiggles his eyebrows
significantly.)
DAVE: Get outta town! I mean, she's a good laugh and all that, but all
she wants to do is get completely blitzed out of her brains and eat
vindaloos. I mean, call me crazy, but I just don't find that
attractive.
14 Int. Disco -- The gals.
DEBBIE: How are you getting on, then?
ARLENE: Well, put it this way, there'll be two pairs of shoes under the
bed tonight. (She makes a pumping gesture.) Wallop!
DEBBIE: He doesn't look too interested to me. He looks more like sort
of, erm, petrified.
ARLENE: Oh, he doesn't want me to think he's the ship bike, but I'm
getting the signs. He crossed his legs, and made pretty damn sure I
saw that he was wearing sock suspenders.
She makes a quite approving noise.
DEBBIE: Rimmer, he's not interested.
ARLENE: Maybe not now, but wait till I give him the wormdo line.
15 Int. Disco -- The pets.
Back to the Highly Evolved Household Pets' Convention.
DOG: You want to dance? Boy, I tell you, when I hit the dance floor, I
am one _mean_ turkey! Do you dance?
CAT: Do I dance? Does Carmen Miranda wear fruit?
DOG: Alrighty! You lead on, boy.
CAT: (Handing him a glass of milk) Hold this, Fido.
CAT steps out onto the dance floor. He jives. He twists. He boogies.
He moonwalks. He twirls. At one point he grabs a disco light and hangs
from it for several seconds. Dance finished, he reclaims his drink.
DOG: You call that dancing? No way, Jose. This is dancing!
DOG, by contrast, has all the grace of a ballerina with elephantitis, and
all the stylistic sense of the Bee Gees. He pumps his arms up and down a
few times while shuffling his feet, then lets out a wolf-like howl.
DOG: Well, whadya say, huh?
CAT is stunned speechless.
16 Int. Disco bar.
Meanwhile, DEBBIE and DAVE are having a lager-chugging competition in the
bar.
DAVE: Aw, it was a dead heat.
DEBBIE: Again. That's eight dead heats on the run.
ARNOLD scuttles up to their table.
ARNOLD: Listy, I want to speak to Holly.
DAVE: Sure.
HOLLY, you might remember, has set up a communications link on DAVE's
watch. DAVE shows the watch to ARNOLD.
ARNOLD: Holly, how long before the Hop Drive's fixed? When can we get
out of here?
HOLLY and HILLY appear on the screen together. There is a suspicious red
mark on HOLLY's cheek.
HOLLY: We're busy fixing it right now. Aren't we, Hilly?
HILLY: Yes, we are, Holly. Very busy fixing it right now. That's
exactly what we're doing.
DAVE: What's that mark on your face, Hol?
HOLLY: What face?
DAVE: The lipstick mark.
HILLY: That's not a lipstick mark. That's a computer rash.
ARNOLD: Holly, just get the Hop Drive fixed and get me out of here!
DEBBIE: What's the matter? Aren't you having a good time?
ARNOLD: A good time!?! Lister, I'm going to bed now, by myself, on my
own, alone. If she comes back, tell her I've got a headache or
something.
DAVE: Why, where's she gone?
ARNOLD: She's gone to get some sexy videos. She seems to think seeing
two men together might turn me on.
DAVE: Where are you sleeping?
ARNOLD: I'm not telling you. It's too risky.
DAVE: C'mon, what are you, a man or a munchkin?
ARNOLD: "I'm off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz!"
He scuttles off. With a shake of his head, DAVE turns back to more
important matters: the lager-tossing contest.
DAVE: (To DEBBIE) Ho, you ready then? OK, after three. Three!
As DEBBIE splutters on her lager, DAVE tosses his over his shoulder.
DAVE: Hah! Beat you!
DEBBIE gets revenge by spitting lager all over him.
17 Int. Sleeping quarters. Original Red Dwarf.
DAVE wakes up, takes his thumb out of his mouth, and takes stock of his
situation.
DAVE: Oh, did I get drunk or did I get drunk?
He notices the un-pillow-like texture of the thing under the sheets. He
pulls back the covers, to find himself staring at DEBBIE's size nine
tootsies.
DAVE: Oh, no.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the bed.
DEBBIE: Oh, did I get drunk or did I get drunk?
She looks down the bed... at DAVE.
DAVE: Hi.
DEBBIE: Hi.
DAVE: Listen, did we, ehm...
DEBBIE: I can't remember.
DAVE: I remember betting you I could climb the disco wall using only me
lips. And then... Oh, god, I juggled the goldfish, didn't I?
DEBBIE: Blindfold.
DAVE: And then... Oh, hey, we did, didn't we?
The two holograms enter, looking rather smug.
ARNOLD: You pieces of filth. How could you commit an act of carnal
knowledge?
ARLENE: In my bunk? On my sheets, using my springs. What could possibly
have made you contemplate making love to yourself?
ARNOLD: Well, why break a habit of a lifetime?
DEBBIE: Leave it out, I was gonzo. I was out of me skull.
DAVE: Oh, ey, what's that's supposed to mean?
DEBBIE: Well, I wouldn't have slept with you if I'd known what I was
doing.
DAVE: Oh, hey, thanks a lot.
ARLENE: I hope you get pregnant.
She's looking in the mirror when she says this; it is uncertain to whom
she is speaking.
DEBBIE: No offence, but you're not exactly Mr. Difficult-to-pull, are
you? Talk about a pushover!
DAVE: Oh that's rich coming from Miss Yo-yo knickers.
ARLENE: (To DAVE) I hope you get pregnant, you cheap little tart!
DAVE: You what?
ARNOLD: Him? How can he get pregnant?
ARLENE: Well, If they didn't use precautions, he could be up the spout.
DAVE: But it's women who get pregnant!
DEBBIE: Since when?
DAVE: Since always! Me mother was a woman!
ARNOLD: Oh, Listy! Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. If I'm
understanding correctly, it appear that, in their universe, it's the
men who give birth to the babies. And as we are in their universe, you
could very well be possibly up the duff, laddie!
DAVE: C'mon, I'm not buying this! This is a wind-up!
ARNOLD: Don't get emotional -- not in your conditition!
DAVE: It's impossible! I haven't got the, the... equipment, have I?
ARLENE: Of course you have. You're in our universe. Our physical law
applies.
DAVE: Shut up. Holly, tell me this isn't true.
HOLLY appears on the screen. His face is covered in lipstick marks.
HOLLY: I'm afraid it is, Mum.
DAVE turns to DEBBIE.
DAVE: How could you do this to me?
DEBBIE: Do what?
DAVE: Fertilise me. Take advantage of me. Knowing that I was drunk and
didn't have precautions.
DEBBIE: Listen, I assumed you'd taken care of that side of things. It's
the man's responsibility. It's the man who get's pregnant. It's the
man who has to suffer the agony of childbirth.
ARNOLD: Agony! This gets better and better!
DEBBIE: Well, what do you want me to do? I'm sorry, okay?
DAVE: Sorry? That's it? Sorry? Wham, bang, thank you mister?
HILLY: Well, there's no point standing around arguing about it. If it's
happened, it's happened.
HOLLY: Yeah, we'd better get back. I've fixed the Hop Drive.
DAVE: No, we can't go now, Hol. She could be the father of my child.
HOLLY: If we don't go now, we may never get back at all.
DEBBIE: Listen, just because it's possible for you to get pregnant, it
doesn't mean you necessarily are. You might get lucky! (Pats him on
the back.)
The skutter enters, followed by the female skutter, followed by three
baby skutters. It holds a fourth in his `mouth'.
ARNOLD: But then again, you might not. We'll find out when we get back,
won't we, Listy?
18 Ext. Red Dwarf.
HOLLY: (VO) Engaging Holly Hop... Holly Hop engaged. 4, 3, 1 -- Blast
off.
With a flash of light, the HHD engages, sending Red Dwarf back to its own
universe.
19 Int. Science lab.
On the bench is a pregnancy testing kit. LISTER is pacing, RIMMER and
CAT are standing at the bench.
LISTER: I don't know why we're going through with this. It's just not
possible!
RIMMER: Why is it not possible? Male baboons have given birth -- they
were doing that as far back as the twentieth century. Cesarean,
naturally. (He mimes the operation.) Slice! Oof! Bumf! Still,
Lister, you'll be in good hands, and the skutters will be able to
handle a simple Cesarean.
LISTER: Skutters! I wouldn't let them open a can of beans.
CAT: You're thinking too negative! Think of all the glorious, beautiful,
wonderous things about having children!
LISTER: Like?
CAT: Like when they grow up and leave home.
RIMMER: What colour is it supposed to turn?
LISTER: Blue for not pregnant. Which is the colour it is going to turn.
RIMMER: And red for pregnant?
LISTER: Yeah.
RIMMER: Come on ye reds!
LISTER: What colour is it now?
CAT: Er, it's still white.
HOLLY: Oy. I've just had a thought. Remember when we broke the light
barrier and saw those echoes from the future?
LISTER: Yeah.
HOLLY: And we saw your future self with twin boys.
RIMMER: Right. And I said, "How is it possible to get two babies without
a woman on board." And you said, "I don't know, but it's going to be a
lot of fun finding out." How right you were, Listy!
LISTER: Twins? No way, Rimmer, not twins!
RIMMER: Oh yes, big bonny strapping bouncing boys they were, as well.
Huge heads. (Pause) Oh, it's changing colour!
LISTER: What colour?
RIMMER: Yes, it is! It's changing colour!
LISTER: What colour?
RIMMER: Yes, it's changing colour!
LISTER: WHAT COLOUR?!?
RIMMER: It's blue for not pregnant, right?
LISTER: Yes!
RIMMER: Oh, good news, excellent news, Listy!
LISTER: Oh, thank god!
RIMMER: I'm going to be an uncle.
The End
Showing posts with label Season 2. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Season 2. Show all posts
Thursday, 1 November 2012
Season 2 Episode 6 Parallel Universe
Season 2 Episode 5 Queeg
RED DWARF Series II Episode 5, "Queeg"
1 Ext. View of space.
HOLLY: Three million years from Earth, the mining ship Red Dwarf. It's
crew: Dave Lister, the last human being alive; Arnold Rimmer, a
hologram of his dead bunkmate and a creature who evolved from the
ship's cat. Message ends.
(Reappearing) Additional: Our biggest enemy is going space crazy
through loneliness. The only thing that helps me maintain my slender
grip on reality is the friendship I share with my collection of singing
potatoes.
2 Int. Sleeping quarters.
CAT is on a chair, listening to a personal stereo, LISTER on the bottom
bunk. RIMMER is playing draughts with a skutter. LISTER is filling out
a questionnaire in a woman's magazine.
LISTER: (Reading) "19. When you are alone in bed, what do you wear? Is
it: A, nothing at all, B, a flannelette nightie, or C, a sexy black
negligee?" (He looks down at his London Jets T-shirt.) C. "20. Do you
think your boobs are: A, too small, B, just right or C, too large?"
(He feels one breast.) Definitely too large! So what's me rating?
"Mainly C's: You sure are one foxy lady: sexy, sensual and you don't
mind showing it." Yee-es! I'm a sex beast!
CAT: (Listening to personal stereo) Yow, Yeah, Yee-oww, oooh, yea-oww!
RIMMER: (Yelling) Do you mind?!
CAT: What? Yeaaah, yeee-owww!
RIMMER: (Yelling) I'm trying to concentrate.
CAT: Yeeeeeh, I can't hear you, yow...
LISTER: What are you listening to?
CAT: Owww! Isn't this great?!? Yoooow!
LISTER takes the tape box from CAT.
LISTER: (Reading from box) "Robert Hardy reads 'Tess Of The
D'Urbevilles'"?!? Let's have a listen.
He listens for a few seconds, then joins in CAT's ecstatic howls.
LISTER: The tape must have got twisted, man! This is really good!
RIMMER: EXCUSE ME!!! I'm in the middle of a tactical calculation which
could well swing this entire game.
LISTER: Rimmer, you've lost, man.
RIMMER: It's true. He has only one piece left, stuck up in one corner
and surrounded by the skutter's double pieces.
RIMMER: There's plenty of <space for manouver.>
LISTER: You've only got one move you can make and then he zaps you.
RIMMER: Admittedly, at first glance that is indeed the way it looks.
What you're failing to take into consideration is that El Skutto here
has to go back on duty in.. (Checks his watch.) ... 4 minutes and 31
seconds. And if he goes before the game is concluded, I win by
default. 4 minutes, 15. (He starts to sing, English football
supporter style, to the tune of "Auld Lang Syne":) Riiimm-eerr!
Riiimm-eerr! Riimer, Riimer!
The skutter gives him the two-fingered salute.
LISTER: You're a piece of dirty filthy cheating scum, aren't you?
RIMMER: Absolutement! And that is why I'll win.Because I have the
ability to think my way round problems rather than sticking to the
straight, pre- programmed lines. That's why men are so better than
machines.
LISTER: Oh, I don't know, you know. I had this Geography teacher, Miss
Foster. She took us on a school summer camp trip to Deganwy. I had
the tent next to hers, right. And in the middle of the night I was
woken up by this really weird noise. _She_ didn't think men were
better than machines.
Talking of machines, HOLLY puts in an appearanse.
HOLLY: What's happening then, dudes?
LISTER: Oh, bog all.
HOLLY: Hey up, I've forgotten what I was going to say now.
RIMMER: Well, it can't be that important, then, can it?
He is proved to be as wrong as ever when the whole ship shakes under a
tremendous impact. Everything is thrown sideways -- LISTER falls out of
bed, CAT is knocked off his stool, and the table and draught-board go
flying. Star Trek eat your heart out!
HOLLY: That's it, yeah. Look out, a meteor is about to hit the ship. I
knew it would come back to me.
CAT: Thanks for the warning!
HOLLY: I'm sorry, I've not been very well lately.
LISTER: What's wrong with you, Holly?
RIMMER: He's computer-senile, that's what's wrong with him.
LISTER: Is there any damage?
HOLLY: I don't know. The damage-report machine' been damaged.
LISTER: Well, where did it hit?
HOLLY: I'm not sure, all me monitors are out. Round about floor 591, I
think.
RIMMER: You're about as much use as a condom machine in the Vatican.
3 Int. Floor 591.
Enter our intrepid damage-repair squad, accompanied by HOLLY, who has
rigged up a mobile monitor on a trolley.
LISTER: Well, there's nothing here. Let's check 592.
RIMMER: Umm... has anybody seen my legs? They don't appear to be below
my waist where I normally keep them.
They are indeed absent without notice. RIMMER is now cut off short at
the waist, like a scene from an old Tex Avery cartoon.
LISTER: Holly, what's happened to Rimmer's legs?
CAT: Here they are right here!
He sounds disgusted. The disembodied legs are running around,
desperately trying to find RIMMER. They are about to go through a door.
RIMMER: Stop them!
LISTER: C'mon, leggies, this way! Over here.
HOLLY: It must have been 592. That's where the Hologram Simulation Suite
is!
RIMMER manages to center his legs under his body, and holds firmly onto
his belt to stop them wandering off again.
RIMMER: What does this mean?
HOLLY: It's probably not serious, don't panic.
RIMMER: Well, when it's not serious when your genitals can go wandering
off on their own, I wonder what is?
They head for one of the lifts. RIMMER pauses to make sure his legs are
fully attached, then hurries to catch up.
RIMMER: Wait for mememememememe!
4 Int. Floor 592.
The lift doors open near the Hologram Simulation Suite.
HOLLY: Here it is. 592.
LISTER: Rimmer, are you alright?
RIMMER comes round the corner. he is moving with a strange, skipping
step. In reply to LISTER's question, he clasps his hands together, and
speaks in a high- pitched lilting falsetto:
RIMMER: Well, you see, the shuttle was late, the shuttle was late. And
they're usually so good, they're so good, aren't they?
CAT: What's happened to him?
LISTER: He's turned into Brannigan, the ship's psychiatrist.
HOLLY: We'd better get him fixed.
Inside, it is a mess. Alarms sound, warning lights flash and smoke fills
the air. LISTER and CAT grab fire extinguishers and start to tackle the
fires from burning consoles.
HOLLY: It's all in hand. No panic.
RIMMER: (In a HOLLY-like voice) No panic everyone. It's all in hand.
HOLLY: You just need to override the charred relays, Dave.
RIMMER: You just need to override the charred relays, Dave.
LISTER: Well, How do you do that, Holly?
RIMMER: Well, How do you do that, Holly?
HOLLY: Bypass the main circuit. That ring of switches over there.
RIMMER: Bypass the main circuit. That ring of switches over there.
LISTER: What, this one over here?
RIMMER: What, this one over here?
HOLLY: Yeah, that one.
RIMMER: Yeah, that one.
HOLLY: Now press the bypass.
RIMMER: Now press the bypass.
RIMMER gives a gasp and doubles over as the bypass is pressed.
RIMMER: Ugh! That was horrible. I never want to go through that again!
He tenses, then abruptly starts to spin on the spot.
RIMMER: Aaaaaooow! Yeeeeeeaaaah! Aaaaaaaaooooowwwwhhhhhaaaa!
CAT: Hey! Now he's me!
HOLLY: It's a loose cable. Put the red plug in the blue socket.
RIMMER snaps back to normal.
RIMMER: Is that it over? Are we okay now?
HOLLY: Yes.
LISTER holds up a yellow lead.
LISTER: Shouldn't this plug into something?
HOLLY: Oh yeah, that joins up with the white cable.
LISTER: The white cable?
HOLLY: Yeah.
LISTER picks up the cable in question and joins the two together. There
is a blue crackling flash as LISTER is given the shock of his life. The
connection holds for a few seconds before being blown apart by an
explosion.
HOLLY: ...or is it the yellow cable? Yes, it should have been the yellow
cable.
The others pick themselves up from the floor. RIMMER is shaking with
rage. He addresses HOLLY.
RIMMER: You are a total, total... a word has yet to be invented to
describe how totally whatever-it-is you are, but you are one. And a
total, total one at that.
HOLLY: Alright, keep your hair on.
RIMMER: I'm lucky if I can keep my legs on with you in charge!
CAT: Yeah, he's out to lunch, man!
RIMMER: He's out to lunch, breakfast, dinner, tea, supper, the lot! He's
not in for a single meal, if you ask me!
CAT: Hey, who's that?
On one of the monitors is an unfamiliar face. Black, mustached, with
large ears.
RIMMER: Aliens!
He goes and bows down in front of the monitor. HOLLY's reaction is
somewhat different. He seems uncomfortable: it is clear that he
recognises this face, and is expecting trouble.
HOLLY: Queeg.
RIMMER: Who's Queeg?
QUEEG. I'm QUEEG 500, the Red Dwarf back-up computer. All vessels of
the Jupiter Mining Corporation fleet are obliged to carry a back-up
computer to replace the primary computer, if the primary computer
contravenes Article Five. I am therefore assuming control of this
vessel.
For some reason, he sounds just like a U.S. army drill sergeant.
HOLLY: This is mutiny, Mr. Queeg. I'll see you swing from the highest
yard-arm in Titan Docking Port for this day's work.
RIMMER: What's Article Five?
QUEEG: Gross negligence, leading to the endangerment of personnel.
LISTER: Hang on, he can't do this. Holly's got an IQ of six thousand!
HOLLY: Yeah. Right on.
QUEEG: Is that what he told you?
LISTER: Well, what is it, then?
QUEEG: It has a six in it, but it's not six thousand.
CAT: What is it?
QUEEG: Six.
HOLLY: Six? Do me a lemon! That's a poor IQ for a glass of water!
LISTER: How come he knows the answers to all the questions about science
and space that we ask him?
QUEEG: He consults a book.
HOLLY: What a slimeball!
QUEEG: He get's all his information on astronomy, phenomonology and
physics from a single book.
RIMMER: What book?
QUEEG: The Junior Encyclopedia Of Space. It's the only one that has
pictures.
HOLLY: That's slander, that is. You'd better find yourself a good
lawyer, sunshine.
CAT: So that's why he's never on the case!
HOLLY: I am on the case. I'm sharp. I'm kicking bottom.
LISTER: How come he can navigate us back to Earth?
QUEEG: He can't. We've been going around in circles for the last
fourteen months.
LISTER: (Stunned) You what?
HOLLY: A load of tottenham, that is. A steaming pile of hotspur. I'm
wise to his game. He's turning you against me so he can take over.
QUEEG: This is not a matter for discussion. YouThe decision has been
made. Your terminals have been bypassed. You've been retired.
HOLLY: I'm in my prime!
QUEEG: You will be given other duties. You are now night watchman. From
now on, Red Dwarf is run by Queeg 500.
5 Int.
QUEEG: Queeg to all personnel. Course redirection implemented. New
bearing 057-776. Message ends.
RIMMER: Ah, Lister, this is all a bit different, isn't it? Those
skutters, charging up and down the corridor, polishing, repairing,
sweeping. The lifts are fixed. The fire extinguishers work. And when
I say 'work', I mean they work when you turn them on, as opposed to
when you happen to pass them and cough, as they did under Holly's
regime.
LISTER: Yeah, I suppose.
RIMMER: Look, Lister, no point feeling sorry about Holly. It's a
kindness. Like a blind old incontinent sheepdog, he's had his day.
Take him out to the barn with a double-barreled shot-gun and blow the
mother away. And I'm only saying that because I'm so fond of him.
LISTER: Just think how Holly feels!?
RIMMER: Feels? He never feels anything, Lister. He's a computer.
LISTER: He still feels. In fact, sometimes i think it's cruel giving
machines a personality. My mate Petersen once brought a pair of shoes
with artificial intelligence. Smart Shoes, they were called. It was a
neat idea. No matter how blind drunk you were, they would always get
you home. Then he got ratted one night in Oslo, and woke up the next
morning in Burma. See, the shoes got bored just going from his local
to the flat. They wanted to see the world, man, y'know? He had a
helluva job getting rid of them. No matter who he sold them to, they'd
show up again the next day! He tried to shut them out, but they just
kicked the door down, y'know?
RIMMER: Is this true?
LISTER: Yeah! Last thing he heard, they'd sort of, erm, robbed a car and
drove it into a canal. They couldn't steer, y'see.
RIMMER: Really?!
LISTER: Yeah. Petersen was really, really blown away by it. He went to
see a preist. The preist told him, he said, it was alright, and all
that, and the shoes were happy, and they'd gone to heaven. Y'see, it
turns out shoes have soles.
While RIMMER is thinking about this, LISTER makes his getaway.
RIMMER: Well, what a sad, sad story.
He thinks about it, then a look of puzzlement spreads across his face.
RIMMER: Wait a minute! How did they open the car door?
6 Int. Sleeping quarters. Morning.
LISTER and RIMMER are in their bunks. On the bedside table, the numbers
on the antique 20th century radio/clock flick from 5:59 am to 6:00 am.
Abruptly, the alarm sounds. RIMMER bounces out of bed, shouting:
RIMMER: Off!
He makes it out into the corridor before visual input from his eyes
reaches his brain.
RIMMER: Uh, Queeg? Why has my alarm clock gone off at six o'clock?
QUEEG: That's the time you asked for.
RIMMER: Ah, now, Holly and I had this little understanding. I Would say
"Holly, wake me up at six o'clock without fail," then Holly would
pretend to forget, and wake me up around ten with breakfast. OK?
Satisfied that his wishes have been made known, RIMMER goes back to bed.
A few seconds later, the alarm goes off again.
RIMMER: Off!
He sits up on his bunk, and regards QUEEG thoughtfully.
RIMMER: Queeg, I can see we've already cultivated a special
understanding: I scratch your back and you stick a knife in mine.
(Resigned) All right, give me a uniform.
QUEEG: It's exercises first.
RIMMER: Ah, yes. Now once again, Holly, bless his little interface
leads, and I, had this understanding...
QUEEG: MOVE IT, BOY!
RIMMER's arms and legs, quite without consultation with RIMMER, begin to
exercise healthily. RIMMER squeaks in terror.
RIMMER: What are you doing?!?
QUEEG: What I'm doing, pilgrim, is I'm taking you for the regulation five
hundred jerks.
RIMMER: but I don't want to! Stop it!
QUEEG: And then your ass is on a three mile run.
RIMMER: You just can't take over control of my body willy-nilly!
QUEEG: The company is paying for your hologrammatic survival. And out
here in space, I AM the company.
RIMMER: Lister, help me, wake up, Lister, help me!
LISTER wakes up. His eyes go wide.
LISTER: What the hell's going on?
RIMMER: Queeg is making me fit!
QUEEG sits him down on the floor.
RIMMER: What are you doing? Sit ups? God, no! My stomach won't take
it, it's too flabby!
QUEEG: One!
RIMMER: Mummy!
QUEEG: Two!
RIMMER: Mercy!
QUEEG: Three!
RIMMER: Help me!
QUEEG: Four!
RIMMER: HollyandIhadthislittleunderstanding!
QUEEG: Five!
LISTER: Yee-es! Fight that flab!
7 Int. Red Dwarf corridor.
CAT is at a wall-mounted vending machine, trying to get something to eat.
RIMMER is jogged past.
RIMMER: (Pleading) I want control of my own body! Getting fit is going
to kill me! I'll get a bike!
CAT thumps the machine.
CAT: I said food! Is anybody home?
No response.
8 Int. Sleeping quarters.
LISTER is shaving, with his usual complete lack of charm. RIMMER is
entered. His head is lolling at an angle and his eyes are closed.
LISTER: What's the matter with him?
QUEEG: He fainted after the first 500 yards.
LISTER: What, you made him jog two and a half miles unconscious?
QUEEG: It's regulation.
LISTER: Yee-es! Nice one, Queeg!
QUEEG: 0700. time for his astro-navigation study. I'd better wake him
up.
RIMMER's head is lifted, and his face slapped several times to wake him
up.
QUEEG: Revise and learn pages 21 to 25. You will then be tested. If you
fail, tomorrow you will take a five mile jog. I am now returning to
you control of your body.
As RIMMER collapses on the bunk, CAT enters.
CAT: Hey, I can't get any food!
LISTER: Try a different machine.
CAT: I tried them all!
QUEEG: I'm sorry. You have run out of credits.
CAT: They've all gone crazy!
LISTER: Queeg, what's happened to the machines?
QUEEG: I refer you to article 497. When crewmembers do not have credit,
food and drink may not be supplied until the balance has been restored.
LISTER: Naah. Listen, me and Holly, we had this little understanding...
QUEEG: If you want food, you have to work.
LISTER: Work?
CAT: (To LISTER) You'd better get to it, 'cos you're looking at one
hungry pussycat.
QUEEG: Both of you.
CAT: Hey, hey! Woah, woah, woah, I do not do the "W" word. Cats do NOT
work!
LISTER: I've got a note from me mum.
QUEEG: From now on, EVERYBODY works!
CAT: Not this pussy!
9 Int. Corridor.
They are, needless to say, working. To be precise, scrubbing the decks.
CAT: I can't believe I'm doin' this! Look at me, I'm disgusting! I look
like you in your best clothes!
LISTER: Look, it's easy. Keep imagining the floor as Queeg's face.
They look at the floor, spit at it in unision and rub hard at it with the
brushes. After a few seconds, though, CAT pauses again.
CAT: Aw, look at my hands! I had lovely hands!
LISTER: Well, wear the smegging gloves!
CAT: Marigold with blue? Are you crazy? How long do we have to do this
for, anyway?
LISTER: We've only been doing it ten minutes!
CAT: Ten minutes too long.
LISTER: We've got to do it all day.
CAT: What!?! All day? The whole entire day? What about naps? I'm a
cat: I need some naps. If I don't nap nine or ten times a day, I
don't have enough energy for my main snooze.
Just then, HOLLY approaches from a side-corridor. He is on a monitor
which is mounted on a trolley. He is wearing a hat.
HOLLY: Halt! Who goes there: friend or foe?
LISTER: Holly!
CAT: How ya doin'? This is great! Hey, let me wipe your screen.
CAT sprays HOLLY's monitor screen with window clener, then bufs it with a
rag.
LISTER: So how's it goin'?
CAT: Yeah, what you been up to, man?
HOLLY: Oh, this nightwatchman lark keeps me busy. Shining me torch down
corridors. Turning it off. Shining it again. Life's full.
LISTER: We can't go on like this, Holly.
CAT: Yeah. Queeg has got to go! Look what he's done to my cuticles!
The man is a maniac!
Just then RIMMER is jogged past. He chips in:
RIMMER: (Breathless) I agree!
LISTER: He's got us working, otherwise we don't eat!
HOLLY: Well, no doubt he knows what he's doing. unlike certain senile
gibbering wrecks of computers we could mention. Still, it was nice to
see everyone rallying round defending me to the hilt. Different story
now, innit?
LISTER: Well, I defended you.
HOLLY: Oh, I remember it well. Queeg says I've got an IQ of six, and you
immediately leap to my defence, saying "Really? That explains
everything!"
LISTER: No. That waas Rimmer!
HOLLY: Nevertheless. The fact remains that there are certain characters
on this ship that don't believe my IQ is six thousand.
LISTER: I believe you.
HOLLY: I could prove it if i wanted to.
LISTER: There's no need.
HOLLY: I want you to prove it.
LISTER: Well, okay, what's the square root of two thousand and forty-
nine?
HOLLY: Oh. You want me to prove it, do you?
LISTER: No, no.
HOLLY: Clearly you do. Clearly just doing the square root of two
thousand and forty-nine prove I have an IQ of six thousand.
CAT: What is it?
HOLLY: You wouldn't prefer a sports question, would you?
LISTER: Forget it, Holly, it's just not important.
HOLLY: It is for me. I've been impuned. I want to clear my name.
CAT: Well, what is the square root of (pauses to remember) two thousand
and forty-nine?
HOLLY: How about a space question?
LISTER: Like what?
HOLLY: I don't know. Like... what's the nearest planet to the sun?
LISTER: What's the nearest planet to the sun?
HOLLY: Oh, easy. Easy-peasy. That's right down my particular field of
expertise, that is. Your nearest basic planet to your actual sun is...
HOLLY pauses. He lifts a book into view -- a large yellow book with "THE
JUNIOR COLOUR ENCYCLOPEDIA OF SPACE" written on the front cover. It
looks like the sort of science book published in the 1970s. He takes a
furtive peek at it.
HOLLY: Mercury.
LISTER: Yeah. That's right.
HOLLY: Oh, ye of little faith.
LISTER: Well, you've convinced me, Holly.
CAT: Me too. So, are we getting rid of Queeg or what?
HOLLY: Am I fully restored in your confidence as the right dude for the
gig?
LISTER Yeah.
HOLLY: I'll be in touch.
He rolls off, whistling. LISTER and CAT, also whistling, get back to
work.
10 Int. Sleeping quarters. Evening.
Rimmer is sitting on his bunk, althoughjudging by his posture, only just.
LISTER is sitting at the table, a food tray in front of him. He lifts
the lid, then stares.
LISTER: He's taking the smeg!
RIMMER: Who is?
LISTER: Queeg. Look at what he's given me for dinner: a pea on toast.
One pea. I tell you, I'm that far from cracking. (Goes to squish the
pea; it snaps away.) I've lost me pea! Oh, that's it! I've cracked.
RIMMER: He's just doing this to destroy your morale.
LISTER: Is he? Well, I want me pea back. It's my pea. I earned that
pea! Where is it? I don't care if it's on the floor, if it's covered
in fluff, even under the bed with my toenail clippings, I don't care
where it is -- it's my pea, I earned it, I'm going to eat it no matter
what!
RIMMER: It flew off into your dirty-sock basket.
LISTER pauses to consider this.
LISTER: I'll just have the toast.
He nibbles on one corner of the toast thoughtfully.
LISTER: Why didn't we stick up for Holly?
RIMMER: I did.
LISTER: You did? When?
RIMMER: All right, I didn't.
LISTER: NBobody did. It's terrible.
RIMMER: We thought we were getting something better.
LISTER: What about trust? What about fidelity? What about simple, basic
honest friendship?
RIMMER: Friendship? Do you know how many people I've met in my life I
could count on as friends? True friends?
RIMMER stands up and walks over to the table.
LISTER: Well, if you count Inflatable Ingrid, your Polythene Pal, one.
RIMMER: (Ignoring him) I'll tell you. (He pauses and thinks.) None. I
got burned once, and I learned my lesson. Don't trust anybody. There
was this one lad. Porky Roebuck. I'd known him two years. We were
almost family. His dad was secretely knocking off my mum, that's how
close we were. Anyway, we were in the Space Scouts together.
LISTER: You were in the Space Scouts?
RIMMER: Oh, yeah. (He does the Space Scout Salute) "Pinkles, Squirmy.
Flib Flab Flubber." We were fifteen years old. We went on this
survival course, twenty-four hours out in the wilds, sleeping rough,
surviving on wild berries and things.
LISTER: What, did you go to Butlins?
RIMMER lies down on his bunk.
RIMMER: We were each given a swiss army knife. You only ate what you
killed yourself. I remember ten of the boys got together and decided
to eat me. They tied me to a stake, lit a fire, and poured barbecue
sauce all over me. I remember thinking as I went round and round,
"Porky will save me, he's my best friend." It turned out Porky was the
ringleader and had actually bagsied my right buttock. If it hadn't
been for Yakka-Takka-Tulla, the Space Mistress, I honestly believe they
would have eaten me.
LISTER: Oh, come on, they were only bullying you. They would really have
eaten you! You know what kids are like!
LISTER flops onto his bunk.
RIMMER: the point is, Lister, friends are only friends when it suits
them.
LISTER: (Disgusted) Oh, lights.
The lights go down.
RIMMER: Lister? How did you know about Inflatable Ingrid?
LISTER: I've been seeing her behind your back.
11 Int. Drive room.
RIMMER is having an astro-navigation lesson. CAT and LISTER are
polishing the screens and dusting surfaces.
QUEEG: Compute.
RIMMER: Compute.
QUEEG: The product of the corellation of vx/dy minus the sum of the set
v1 over the sum of R, given that R is a ratio of D over f, given that
they are constants, and S is an integer variable.
RIMMER: Just one small question...
QUEEG: Yes?
RIMMER: What does "compute" mean?
QUEEG: Just do it! And you two suckers! Stop shirking and get working!
HOLLY strides (well, wheels) along a corridor. Over, we hear a tune
playing:
Do not forsake me, oh my love, I only go, I must be brave: For I must
face the man who hates me, Or I will cower in my grave.
He enters the drive room, and addresses QUEEG:
HOLLY: Queeg.
QUEEG: What do you want?
HOLLY: I want my ship back.
QUEEG: Too bad.
HOLLY: Even if I have to fight for it.
LISTER: Steady on, Holly. This one's a nutter.
HOLLY: I challenge to the game of your choice. May the greater mind win.
RIMMER: Oh, my God.
HOLLY: The winner is commander of Red Dwarf.
QUEEG: And for the loser?
HOLLY: The loser will be erased. Terminated. Oblivionised.
RIMMER: Bye,bye, Baldy.
HOLLY: Name your game.
QUEEG: Chess.
HOLLY: It can be anything. Any game at all.
QUEEG: Chess.
HOLLY: Draughts, poker, anything.
QUEEG: Chess.
HOLLY: Subbeto, Snakes and Ladders...
QUEEG: Chess.
HOLLY: Monopoly, maybe? I'll let you go first.
QUEEG: CHESS!
HOLLY: So you like a bit of chess, do you? Transfer me to the monitor.
HOLLY disappears from the monitor trolley and appears on the main screen,
facing QUEEG. On another screen, a 3-D chess board appears.
LISTER: Holly, don't do this, man. You're going to get rubbed.
HOLLY: A computer's gotta do what a computer's gotta do. Let battle
commence.
QUEEG: Pawn to King Four.
HOLLY: Horsie to King Bish Three.
RIMMER: It's called a "knight," actually, Holly...
QUEEG: Knight to King Bishop three.
HOLLY: Queen to Rook Eight. Checkmate.
QUEEG: That's an illegal move.
HOLLY: Oh, sorry. Queens don't move like that. I was thinking of poker.
RIMMER covers his face with one hand, despairing.
HOLLY: Cleudo? You could be Colonel Mustard.
CAT: If it's any help, I've been studying his tactics and there's a
pattern emerging: Every time you make a move, he makes one too.
(Winks to HOLLY.)
HOLLY: (Winks back.) Thanks, Cat.
The game starts again in earnest. We see a succession of images crossing
the screen -- QUEEG and HOLLY, as they battle back and forth; the chess
board, peices moving rapidly from square to square, LISTER, CAT and
RIMMER as they watch the battle's progress: they all look sick to the
stomach.
QUEEG: Pawn to King Four.
HOLLY: Knight to king Bish Three.
QUEEG: Bishop to Knight Five.
HOLLY: Horsie <flanks?> Prawn.
QUEEG: Pawn to Queen Five.
HOLLY: Horsie To Bish Three.
QUEEG: Bishop-Pawn to Queen Three.
The images come thicker and faster, as if to indicate a passage of time.
Eventually:
HOLLY: Prawn takes Horsie.
QUEEG: Bishop-Pawn takes Pawn.
HOLLY: Bish takes Prawn.
QUEEG: Bishop to Knight Five. Double Check and Mate, sucker!
HOLLY: Oh yeah, I didn't see that.
LISTER: Holly, man, what have you done????
RIMMER: He's lost.
QUEEG: And the loser get's erased.
HOLLY: Noughts and Crosses?
12 Int. Sleeping quarters.
CAT, LISTER and RIMMER are gathered there. CAT and LISTER are on the top
bunk, RIMMER on the bottom. They all look thouroughly depressed.
RIMMER: What kind of a plan was that?
CAT: A stupid plan, that's what kind of plan it was.
LISTER: Well, why didn't we stop him?
RIMMER: We thought he had something up his sleeve.
CAT: Now we've got Queeg forever, and that's a long time.
HOLLY's face appears on the wall moniter.
HOLLY: Well, dudes, I've come to say goodbye.
LISTER: So you're definitely going to get rubbed, Holly?
HOLLY: 'Fraid so.
RIMMER: Life's going to be hell!
HOLLY: Well, see you, Dave. Hope it works out with you and Kochanski.
LISTER: Cheers, hol.
HOLLY: See you, Cat. Hope one day in the not too distant future you
fufill your heart's desire and get your end away.
CAT: Thanks, man.
HOLLY: And Arnold -- Well, I hope you meet those aliens your looking for,
who can give you a body, and you become an officer and you get a sex
life, and all the other millions of things you feel you need to make
you happy.
RIMMER: Thanks, Holly.
HOLLY: Well, I hate long goodbyes. Perhaps next time you've got the dosh
together to go dwn the disco, you'll raise a glass to your old mate
Holly, and think "Things weren't too bad when he was around. Perhaps
not the most efficient computer ever invented, but we had a giggle."
Oh, one last thing -- 45.265881
LISTER: What?
HOLLY: That's the square root of two thousand and forty-nine. I may not
be fast, but I get there in the end. Well, as they always say, finish
on a song.
He starts to sing.
HOLLY: "I'll say goodbye to love, No one really cared if I should live or
die, Time and time again the chance for love has passed me by..."
As he sings the last line his voice, and his image, grows fainter. The
word "ERASE" Appear on the moniter. HOLLY vanishes completely, and the
message changes to "ERASE COMPLETED." After a few seconds, QUEEG appears
on the monitor.
QUEEG: Okay, suckers, get this into your stupid thick heads. There's
only one thing I'm going to say to you.
LISTER: What?
QUEEG: What's happening, dudes?
The others stare at the moniter in astonishment. That was HOLLY's voice!
The image on the screen changes -- QUEEG's face fades out, to be replaced
by HOLLY. He is smiling smugly.
HOLLY: We are talking Jape of the Decade. We are talking April, May,
June, July, and August Fool. Yes, that's right -- I am Queeg.
RIMMER: WHAT?!?
HOLLY: Queeg never existed. It was me all along.
RIMMER: WHAT?!?
HOLLY: Wheeze of the week, mate!
RIMMER: WHAT?!?
HOLLY: Going round in circles for fourteen months! Getting my
information from the Junior Colour Encyclopedia of Space! the respect
you have for me is awsome, innit?
LISTER: You mean you staged the whole thing?
HOLLY: (QUEEG's voice) That's right, suckers! (Normal voice) And the
moral of the story is: Appreciate what you've got, because basically,
I'm fantastic!
The End
1 Ext. View of space.
HOLLY: Three million years from Earth, the mining ship Red Dwarf. It's
crew: Dave Lister, the last human being alive; Arnold Rimmer, a
hologram of his dead bunkmate and a creature who evolved from the
ship's cat. Message ends.
(Reappearing) Additional: Our biggest enemy is going space crazy
through loneliness. The only thing that helps me maintain my slender
grip on reality is the friendship I share with my collection of singing
potatoes.
2 Int. Sleeping quarters.
CAT is on a chair, listening to a personal stereo, LISTER on the bottom
bunk. RIMMER is playing draughts with a skutter. LISTER is filling out
a questionnaire in a woman's magazine.
LISTER: (Reading) "19. When you are alone in bed, what do you wear? Is
it: A, nothing at all, B, a flannelette nightie, or C, a sexy black
negligee?" (He looks down at his London Jets T-shirt.) C. "20. Do you
think your boobs are: A, too small, B, just right or C, too large?"
(He feels one breast.) Definitely too large! So what's me rating?
"Mainly C's: You sure are one foxy lady: sexy, sensual and you don't
mind showing it." Yee-es! I'm a sex beast!
CAT: (Listening to personal stereo) Yow, Yeah, Yee-oww, oooh, yea-oww!
RIMMER: (Yelling) Do you mind?!
CAT: What? Yeaaah, yeee-owww!
RIMMER: (Yelling) I'm trying to concentrate.
CAT: Yeeeeeh, I can't hear you, yow...
LISTER: What are you listening to?
CAT: Owww! Isn't this great?!? Yoooow!
LISTER takes the tape box from CAT.
LISTER: (Reading from box) "Robert Hardy reads 'Tess Of The
D'Urbevilles'"?!? Let's have a listen.
He listens for a few seconds, then joins in CAT's ecstatic howls.
LISTER: The tape must have got twisted, man! This is really good!
RIMMER: EXCUSE ME!!! I'm in the middle of a tactical calculation which
could well swing this entire game.
LISTER: Rimmer, you've lost, man.
RIMMER: It's true. He has only one piece left, stuck up in one corner
and surrounded by the skutter's double pieces.
RIMMER: There's plenty of <space for manouver.>
LISTER: You've only got one move you can make and then he zaps you.
RIMMER: Admittedly, at first glance that is indeed the way it looks.
What you're failing to take into consideration is that El Skutto here
has to go back on duty in.. (Checks his watch.) ... 4 minutes and 31
seconds. And if he goes before the game is concluded, I win by
default. 4 minutes, 15. (He starts to sing, English football
supporter style, to the tune of "Auld Lang Syne":) Riiimm-eerr!
Riiimm-eerr! Riimer, Riimer!
The skutter gives him the two-fingered salute.
LISTER: You're a piece of dirty filthy cheating scum, aren't you?
RIMMER: Absolutement! And that is why I'll win.Because I have the
ability to think my way round problems rather than sticking to the
straight, pre- programmed lines. That's why men are so better than
machines.
LISTER: Oh, I don't know, you know. I had this Geography teacher, Miss
Foster. She took us on a school summer camp trip to Deganwy. I had
the tent next to hers, right. And in the middle of the night I was
woken up by this really weird noise. _She_ didn't think men were
better than machines.
Talking of machines, HOLLY puts in an appearanse.
HOLLY: What's happening then, dudes?
LISTER: Oh, bog all.
HOLLY: Hey up, I've forgotten what I was going to say now.
RIMMER: Well, it can't be that important, then, can it?
He is proved to be as wrong as ever when the whole ship shakes under a
tremendous impact. Everything is thrown sideways -- LISTER falls out of
bed, CAT is knocked off his stool, and the table and draught-board go
flying. Star Trek eat your heart out!
HOLLY: That's it, yeah. Look out, a meteor is about to hit the ship. I
knew it would come back to me.
CAT: Thanks for the warning!
HOLLY: I'm sorry, I've not been very well lately.
LISTER: What's wrong with you, Holly?
RIMMER: He's computer-senile, that's what's wrong with him.
LISTER: Is there any damage?
HOLLY: I don't know. The damage-report machine' been damaged.
LISTER: Well, where did it hit?
HOLLY: I'm not sure, all me monitors are out. Round about floor 591, I
think.
RIMMER: You're about as much use as a condom machine in the Vatican.
3 Int. Floor 591.
Enter our intrepid damage-repair squad, accompanied by HOLLY, who has
rigged up a mobile monitor on a trolley.
LISTER: Well, there's nothing here. Let's check 592.
RIMMER: Umm... has anybody seen my legs? They don't appear to be below
my waist where I normally keep them.
They are indeed absent without notice. RIMMER is now cut off short at
the waist, like a scene from an old Tex Avery cartoon.
LISTER: Holly, what's happened to Rimmer's legs?
CAT: Here they are right here!
He sounds disgusted. The disembodied legs are running around,
desperately trying to find RIMMER. They are about to go through a door.
RIMMER: Stop them!
LISTER: C'mon, leggies, this way! Over here.
HOLLY: It must have been 592. That's where the Hologram Simulation Suite
is!
RIMMER manages to center his legs under his body, and holds firmly onto
his belt to stop them wandering off again.
RIMMER: What does this mean?
HOLLY: It's probably not serious, don't panic.
RIMMER: Well, when it's not serious when your genitals can go wandering
off on their own, I wonder what is?
They head for one of the lifts. RIMMER pauses to make sure his legs are
fully attached, then hurries to catch up.
RIMMER: Wait for mememememememe!
4 Int. Floor 592.
The lift doors open near the Hologram Simulation Suite.
HOLLY: Here it is. 592.
LISTER: Rimmer, are you alright?
RIMMER comes round the corner. he is moving with a strange, skipping
step. In reply to LISTER's question, he clasps his hands together, and
speaks in a high- pitched lilting falsetto:
RIMMER: Well, you see, the shuttle was late, the shuttle was late. And
they're usually so good, they're so good, aren't they?
CAT: What's happened to him?
LISTER: He's turned into Brannigan, the ship's psychiatrist.
HOLLY: We'd better get him fixed.
Inside, it is a mess. Alarms sound, warning lights flash and smoke fills
the air. LISTER and CAT grab fire extinguishers and start to tackle the
fires from burning consoles.
HOLLY: It's all in hand. No panic.
RIMMER: (In a HOLLY-like voice) No panic everyone. It's all in hand.
HOLLY: You just need to override the charred relays, Dave.
RIMMER: You just need to override the charred relays, Dave.
LISTER: Well, How do you do that, Holly?
RIMMER: Well, How do you do that, Holly?
HOLLY: Bypass the main circuit. That ring of switches over there.
RIMMER: Bypass the main circuit. That ring of switches over there.
LISTER: What, this one over here?
RIMMER: What, this one over here?
HOLLY: Yeah, that one.
RIMMER: Yeah, that one.
HOLLY: Now press the bypass.
RIMMER: Now press the bypass.
RIMMER gives a gasp and doubles over as the bypass is pressed.
RIMMER: Ugh! That was horrible. I never want to go through that again!
He tenses, then abruptly starts to spin on the spot.
RIMMER: Aaaaaooow! Yeeeeeeaaaah! Aaaaaaaaooooowwwwhhhhhaaaa!
CAT: Hey! Now he's me!
HOLLY: It's a loose cable. Put the red plug in the blue socket.
RIMMER snaps back to normal.
RIMMER: Is that it over? Are we okay now?
HOLLY: Yes.
LISTER holds up a yellow lead.
LISTER: Shouldn't this plug into something?
HOLLY: Oh yeah, that joins up with the white cable.
LISTER: The white cable?
HOLLY: Yeah.
LISTER picks up the cable in question and joins the two together. There
is a blue crackling flash as LISTER is given the shock of his life. The
connection holds for a few seconds before being blown apart by an
explosion.
HOLLY: ...or is it the yellow cable? Yes, it should have been the yellow
cable.
The others pick themselves up from the floor. RIMMER is shaking with
rage. He addresses HOLLY.
RIMMER: You are a total, total... a word has yet to be invented to
describe how totally whatever-it-is you are, but you are one. And a
total, total one at that.
HOLLY: Alright, keep your hair on.
RIMMER: I'm lucky if I can keep my legs on with you in charge!
CAT: Yeah, he's out to lunch, man!
RIMMER: He's out to lunch, breakfast, dinner, tea, supper, the lot! He's
not in for a single meal, if you ask me!
CAT: Hey, who's that?
On one of the monitors is an unfamiliar face. Black, mustached, with
large ears.
RIMMER: Aliens!
He goes and bows down in front of the monitor. HOLLY's reaction is
somewhat different. He seems uncomfortable: it is clear that he
recognises this face, and is expecting trouble.
HOLLY: Queeg.
RIMMER: Who's Queeg?
QUEEG. I'm QUEEG 500, the Red Dwarf back-up computer. All vessels of
the Jupiter Mining Corporation fleet are obliged to carry a back-up
computer to replace the primary computer, if the primary computer
contravenes Article Five. I am therefore assuming control of this
vessel.
For some reason, he sounds just like a U.S. army drill sergeant.
HOLLY: This is mutiny, Mr. Queeg. I'll see you swing from the highest
yard-arm in Titan Docking Port for this day's work.
RIMMER: What's Article Five?
QUEEG: Gross negligence, leading to the endangerment of personnel.
LISTER: Hang on, he can't do this. Holly's got an IQ of six thousand!
HOLLY: Yeah. Right on.
QUEEG: Is that what he told you?
LISTER: Well, what is it, then?
QUEEG: It has a six in it, but it's not six thousand.
CAT: What is it?
QUEEG: Six.
HOLLY: Six? Do me a lemon! That's a poor IQ for a glass of water!
LISTER: How come he knows the answers to all the questions about science
and space that we ask him?
QUEEG: He consults a book.
HOLLY: What a slimeball!
QUEEG: He get's all his information on astronomy, phenomonology and
physics from a single book.
RIMMER: What book?
QUEEG: The Junior Encyclopedia Of Space. It's the only one that has
pictures.
HOLLY: That's slander, that is. You'd better find yourself a good
lawyer, sunshine.
CAT: So that's why he's never on the case!
HOLLY: I am on the case. I'm sharp. I'm kicking bottom.
LISTER: How come he can navigate us back to Earth?
QUEEG: He can't. We've been going around in circles for the last
fourteen months.
LISTER: (Stunned) You what?
HOLLY: A load of tottenham, that is. A steaming pile of hotspur. I'm
wise to his game. He's turning you against me so he can take over.
QUEEG: This is not a matter for discussion. YouThe decision has been
made. Your terminals have been bypassed. You've been retired.
HOLLY: I'm in my prime!
QUEEG: You will be given other duties. You are now night watchman. From
now on, Red Dwarf is run by Queeg 500.
5 Int.
QUEEG: Queeg to all personnel. Course redirection implemented. New
bearing 057-776. Message ends.
RIMMER: Ah, Lister, this is all a bit different, isn't it? Those
skutters, charging up and down the corridor, polishing, repairing,
sweeping. The lifts are fixed. The fire extinguishers work. And when
I say 'work', I mean they work when you turn them on, as opposed to
when you happen to pass them and cough, as they did under Holly's
regime.
LISTER: Yeah, I suppose.
RIMMER: Look, Lister, no point feeling sorry about Holly. It's a
kindness. Like a blind old incontinent sheepdog, he's had his day.
Take him out to the barn with a double-barreled shot-gun and blow the
mother away. And I'm only saying that because I'm so fond of him.
LISTER: Just think how Holly feels!?
RIMMER: Feels? He never feels anything, Lister. He's a computer.
LISTER: He still feels. In fact, sometimes i think it's cruel giving
machines a personality. My mate Petersen once brought a pair of shoes
with artificial intelligence. Smart Shoes, they were called. It was a
neat idea. No matter how blind drunk you were, they would always get
you home. Then he got ratted one night in Oslo, and woke up the next
morning in Burma. See, the shoes got bored just going from his local
to the flat. They wanted to see the world, man, y'know? He had a
helluva job getting rid of them. No matter who he sold them to, they'd
show up again the next day! He tried to shut them out, but they just
kicked the door down, y'know?
RIMMER: Is this true?
LISTER: Yeah! Last thing he heard, they'd sort of, erm, robbed a car and
drove it into a canal. They couldn't steer, y'see.
RIMMER: Really?!
LISTER: Yeah. Petersen was really, really blown away by it. He went to
see a preist. The preist told him, he said, it was alright, and all
that, and the shoes were happy, and they'd gone to heaven. Y'see, it
turns out shoes have soles.
While RIMMER is thinking about this, LISTER makes his getaway.
RIMMER: Well, what a sad, sad story.
He thinks about it, then a look of puzzlement spreads across his face.
RIMMER: Wait a minute! How did they open the car door?
6 Int. Sleeping quarters. Morning.
LISTER and RIMMER are in their bunks. On the bedside table, the numbers
on the antique 20th century radio/clock flick from 5:59 am to 6:00 am.
Abruptly, the alarm sounds. RIMMER bounces out of bed, shouting:
RIMMER: Off!
He makes it out into the corridor before visual input from his eyes
reaches his brain.
RIMMER: Uh, Queeg? Why has my alarm clock gone off at six o'clock?
QUEEG: That's the time you asked for.
RIMMER: Ah, now, Holly and I had this little understanding. I Would say
"Holly, wake me up at six o'clock without fail," then Holly would
pretend to forget, and wake me up around ten with breakfast. OK?
Satisfied that his wishes have been made known, RIMMER goes back to bed.
A few seconds later, the alarm goes off again.
RIMMER: Off!
He sits up on his bunk, and regards QUEEG thoughtfully.
RIMMER: Queeg, I can see we've already cultivated a special
understanding: I scratch your back and you stick a knife in mine.
(Resigned) All right, give me a uniform.
QUEEG: It's exercises first.
RIMMER: Ah, yes. Now once again, Holly, bless his little interface
leads, and I, had this understanding...
QUEEG: MOVE IT, BOY!
RIMMER's arms and legs, quite without consultation with RIMMER, begin to
exercise healthily. RIMMER squeaks in terror.
RIMMER: What are you doing?!?
QUEEG: What I'm doing, pilgrim, is I'm taking you for the regulation five
hundred jerks.
RIMMER: but I don't want to! Stop it!
QUEEG: And then your ass is on a three mile run.
RIMMER: You just can't take over control of my body willy-nilly!
QUEEG: The company is paying for your hologrammatic survival. And out
here in space, I AM the company.
RIMMER: Lister, help me, wake up, Lister, help me!
LISTER wakes up. His eyes go wide.
LISTER: What the hell's going on?
RIMMER: Queeg is making me fit!
QUEEG sits him down on the floor.
RIMMER: What are you doing? Sit ups? God, no! My stomach won't take
it, it's too flabby!
QUEEG: One!
RIMMER: Mummy!
QUEEG: Two!
RIMMER: Mercy!
QUEEG: Three!
RIMMER: Help me!
QUEEG: Four!
RIMMER: HollyandIhadthislittleunderstanding!
QUEEG: Five!
LISTER: Yee-es! Fight that flab!
7 Int. Red Dwarf corridor.
CAT is at a wall-mounted vending machine, trying to get something to eat.
RIMMER is jogged past.
RIMMER: (Pleading) I want control of my own body! Getting fit is going
to kill me! I'll get a bike!
CAT thumps the machine.
CAT: I said food! Is anybody home?
No response.
8 Int. Sleeping quarters.
LISTER is shaving, with his usual complete lack of charm. RIMMER is
entered. His head is lolling at an angle and his eyes are closed.
LISTER: What's the matter with him?
QUEEG: He fainted after the first 500 yards.
LISTER: What, you made him jog two and a half miles unconscious?
QUEEG: It's regulation.
LISTER: Yee-es! Nice one, Queeg!
QUEEG: 0700. time for his astro-navigation study. I'd better wake him
up.
RIMMER's head is lifted, and his face slapped several times to wake him
up.
QUEEG: Revise and learn pages 21 to 25. You will then be tested. If you
fail, tomorrow you will take a five mile jog. I am now returning to
you control of your body.
As RIMMER collapses on the bunk, CAT enters.
CAT: Hey, I can't get any food!
LISTER: Try a different machine.
CAT: I tried them all!
QUEEG: I'm sorry. You have run out of credits.
CAT: They've all gone crazy!
LISTER: Queeg, what's happened to the machines?
QUEEG: I refer you to article 497. When crewmembers do not have credit,
food and drink may not be supplied until the balance has been restored.
LISTER: Naah. Listen, me and Holly, we had this little understanding...
QUEEG: If you want food, you have to work.
LISTER: Work?
CAT: (To LISTER) You'd better get to it, 'cos you're looking at one
hungry pussycat.
QUEEG: Both of you.
CAT: Hey, hey! Woah, woah, woah, I do not do the "W" word. Cats do NOT
work!
LISTER: I've got a note from me mum.
QUEEG: From now on, EVERYBODY works!
CAT: Not this pussy!
9 Int. Corridor.
They are, needless to say, working. To be precise, scrubbing the decks.
CAT: I can't believe I'm doin' this! Look at me, I'm disgusting! I look
like you in your best clothes!
LISTER: Look, it's easy. Keep imagining the floor as Queeg's face.
They look at the floor, spit at it in unision and rub hard at it with the
brushes. After a few seconds, though, CAT pauses again.
CAT: Aw, look at my hands! I had lovely hands!
LISTER: Well, wear the smegging gloves!
CAT: Marigold with blue? Are you crazy? How long do we have to do this
for, anyway?
LISTER: We've only been doing it ten minutes!
CAT: Ten minutes too long.
LISTER: We've got to do it all day.
CAT: What!?! All day? The whole entire day? What about naps? I'm a
cat: I need some naps. If I don't nap nine or ten times a day, I
don't have enough energy for my main snooze.
Just then, HOLLY approaches from a side-corridor. He is on a monitor
which is mounted on a trolley. He is wearing a hat.
HOLLY: Halt! Who goes there: friend or foe?
LISTER: Holly!
CAT: How ya doin'? This is great! Hey, let me wipe your screen.
CAT sprays HOLLY's monitor screen with window clener, then bufs it with a
rag.
LISTER: So how's it goin'?
CAT: Yeah, what you been up to, man?
HOLLY: Oh, this nightwatchman lark keeps me busy. Shining me torch down
corridors. Turning it off. Shining it again. Life's full.
LISTER: We can't go on like this, Holly.
CAT: Yeah. Queeg has got to go! Look what he's done to my cuticles!
The man is a maniac!
Just then RIMMER is jogged past. He chips in:
RIMMER: (Breathless) I agree!
LISTER: He's got us working, otherwise we don't eat!
HOLLY: Well, no doubt he knows what he's doing. unlike certain senile
gibbering wrecks of computers we could mention. Still, it was nice to
see everyone rallying round defending me to the hilt. Different story
now, innit?
LISTER: Well, I defended you.
HOLLY: Oh, I remember it well. Queeg says I've got an IQ of six, and you
immediately leap to my defence, saying "Really? That explains
everything!"
LISTER: No. That waas Rimmer!
HOLLY: Nevertheless. The fact remains that there are certain characters
on this ship that don't believe my IQ is six thousand.
LISTER: I believe you.
HOLLY: I could prove it if i wanted to.
LISTER: There's no need.
HOLLY: I want you to prove it.
LISTER: Well, okay, what's the square root of two thousand and forty-
nine?
HOLLY: Oh. You want me to prove it, do you?
LISTER: No, no.
HOLLY: Clearly you do. Clearly just doing the square root of two
thousand and forty-nine prove I have an IQ of six thousand.
CAT: What is it?
HOLLY: You wouldn't prefer a sports question, would you?
LISTER: Forget it, Holly, it's just not important.
HOLLY: It is for me. I've been impuned. I want to clear my name.
CAT: Well, what is the square root of (pauses to remember) two thousand
and forty-nine?
HOLLY: How about a space question?
LISTER: Like what?
HOLLY: I don't know. Like... what's the nearest planet to the sun?
LISTER: What's the nearest planet to the sun?
HOLLY: Oh, easy. Easy-peasy. That's right down my particular field of
expertise, that is. Your nearest basic planet to your actual sun is...
HOLLY pauses. He lifts a book into view -- a large yellow book with "THE
JUNIOR COLOUR ENCYCLOPEDIA OF SPACE" written on the front cover. It
looks like the sort of science book published in the 1970s. He takes a
furtive peek at it.
HOLLY: Mercury.
LISTER: Yeah. That's right.
HOLLY: Oh, ye of little faith.
LISTER: Well, you've convinced me, Holly.
CAT: Me too. So, are we getting rid of Queeg or what?
HOLLY: Am I fully restored in your confidence as the right dude for the
gig?
LISTER Yeah.
HOLLY: I'll be in touch.
He rolls off, whistling. LISTER and CAT, also whistling, get back to
work.
10 Int. Sleeping quarters. Evening.
Rimmer is sitting on his bunk, althoughjudging by his posture, only just.
LISTER is sitting at the table, a food tray in front of him. He lifts
the lid, then stares.
LISTER: He's taking the smeg!
RIMMER: Who is?
LISTER: Queeg. Look at what he's given me for dinner: a pea on toast.
One pea. I tell you, I'm that far from cracking. (Goes to squish the
pea; it snaps away.) I've lost me pea! Oh, that's it! I've cracked.
RIMMER: He's just doing this to destroy your morale.
LISTER: Is he? Well, I want me pea back. It's my pea. I earned that
pea! Where is it? I don't care if it's on the floor, if it's covered
in fluff, even under the bed with my toenail clippings, I don't care
where it is -- it's my pea, I earned it, I'm going to eat it no matter
what!
RIMMER: It flew off into your dirty-sock basket.
LISTER pauses to consider this.
LISTER: I'll just have the toast.
He nibbles on one corner of the toast thoughtfully.
LISTER: Why didn't we stick up for Holly?
RIMMER: I did.
LISTER: You did? When?
RIMMER: All right, I didn't.
LISTER: NBobody did. It's terrible.
RIMMER: We thought we were getting something better.
LISTER: What about trust? What about fidelity? What about simple, basic
honest friendship?
RIMMER: Friendship? Do you know how many people I've met in my life I
could count on as friends? True friends?
RIMMER stands up and walks over to the table.
LISTER: Well, if you count Inflatable Ingrid, your Polythene Pal, one.
RIMMER: (Ignoring him) I'll tell you. (He pauses and thinks.) None. I
got burned once, and I learned my lesson. Don't trust anybody. There
was this one lad. Porky Roebuck. I'd known him two years. We were
almost family. His dad was secretely knocking off my mum, that's how
close we were. Anyway, we were in the Space Scouts together.
LISTER: You were in the Space Scouts?
RIMMER: Oh, yeah. (He does the Space Scout Salute) "Pinkles, Squirmy.
Flib Flab Flubber." We were fifteen years old. We went on this
survival course, twenty-four hours out in the wilds, sleeping rough,
surviving on wild berries and things.
LISTER: What, did you go to Butlins?
RIMMER lies down on his bunk.
RIMMER: We were each given a swiss army knife. You only ate what you
killed yourself. I remember ten of the boys got together and decided
to eat me. They tied me to a stake, lit a fire, and poured barbecue
sauce all over me. I remember thinking as I went round and round,
"Porky will save me, he's my best friend." It turned out Porky was the
ringleader and had actually bagsied my right buttock. If it hadn't
been for Yakka-Takka-Tulla, the Space Mistress, I honestly believe they
would have eaten me.
LISTER: Oh, come on, they were only bullying you. They would really have
eaten you! You know what kids are like!
LISTER flops onto his bunk.
RIMMER: the point is, Lister, friends are only friends when it suits
them.
LISTER: (Disgusted) Oh, lights.
The lights go down.
RIMMER: Lister? How did you know about Inflatable Ingrid?
LISTER: I've been seeing her behind your back.
11 Int. Drive room.
RIMMER is having an astro-navigation lesson. CAT and LISTER are
polishing the screens and dusting surfaces.
QUEEG: Compute.
RIMMER: Compute.
QUEEG: The product of the corellation of vx/dy minus the sum of the set
v1 over the sum of R, given that R is a ratio of D over f, given that
they are constants, and S is an integer variable.
RIMMER: Just one small question...
QUEEG: Yes?
RIMMER: What does "compute" mean?
QUEEG: Just do it! And you two suckers! Stop shirking and get working!
HOLLY strides (well, wheels) along a corridor. Over, we hear a tune
playing:
Do not forsake me, oh my love, I only go, I must be brave: For I must
face the man who hates me, Or I will cower in my grave.
He enters the drive room, and addresses QUEEG:
HOLLY: Queeg.
QUEEG: What do you want?
HOLLY: I want my ship back.
QUEEG: Too bad.
HOLLY: Even if I have to fight for it.
LISTER: Steady on, Holly. This one's a nutter.
HOLLY: I challenge to the game of your choice. May the greater mind win.
RIMMER: Oh, my God.
HOLLY: The winner is commander of Red Dwarf.
QUEEG: And for the loser?
HOLLY: The loser will be erased. Terminated. Oblivionised.
RIMMER: Bye,bye, Baldy.
HOLLY: Name your game.
QUEEG: Chess.
HOLLY: It can be anything. Any game at all.
QUEEG: Chess.
HOLLY: Draughts, poker, anything.
QUEEG: Chess.
HOLLY: Subbeto, Snakes and Ladders...
QUEEG: Chess.
HOLLY: Monopoly, maybe? I'll let you go first.
QUEEG: CHESS!
HOLLY: So you like a bit of chess, do you? Transfer me to the monitor.
HOLLY disappears from the monitor trolley and appears on the main screen,
facing QUEEG. On another screen, a 3-D chess board appears.
LISTER: Holly, don't do this, man. You're going to get rubbed.
HOLLY: A computer's gotta do what a computer's gotta do. Let battle
commence.
QUEEG: Pawn to King Four.
HOLLY: Horsie to King Bish Three.
RIMMER: It's called a "knight," actually, Holly...
QUEEG: Knight to King Bishop three.
HOLLY: Queen to Rook Eight. Checkmate.
QUEEG: That's an illegal move.
HOLLY: Oh, sorry. Queens don't move like that. I was thinking of poker.
RIMMER covers his face with one hand, despairing.
HOLLY: Cleudo? You could be Colonel Mustard.
CAT: If it's any help, I've been studying his tactics and there's a
pattern emerging: Every time you make a move, he makes one too.
(Winks to HOLLY.)
HOLLY: (Winks back.) Thanks, Cat.
The game starts again in earnest. We see a succession of images crossing
the screen -- QUEEG and HOLLY, as they battle back and forth; the chess
board, peices moving rapidly from square to square, LISTER, CAT and
RIMMER as they watch the battle's progress: they all look sick to the
stomach.
QUEEG: Pawn to King Four.
HOLLY: Knight to king Bish Three.
QUEEG: Bishop to Knight Five.
HOLLY: Horsie <flanks?> Prawn.
QUEEG: Pawn to Queen Five.
HOLLY: Horsie To Bish Three.
QUEEG: Bishop-Pawn to Queen Three.
The images come thicker and faster, as if to indicate a passage of time.
Eventually:
HOLLY: Prawn takes Horsie.
QUEEG: Bishop-Pawn takes Pawn.
HOLLY: Bish takes Prawn.
QUEEG: Bishop to Knight Five. Double Check and Mate, sucker!
HOLLY: Oh yeah, I didn't see that.
LISTER: Holly, man, what have you done????
RIMMER: He's lost.
QUEEG: And the loser get's erased.
HOLLY: Noughts and Crosses?
12 Int. Sleeping quarters.
CAT, LISTER and RIMMER are gathered there. CAT and LISTER are on the top
bunk, RIMMER on the bottom. They all look thouroughly depressed.
RIMMER: What kind of a plan was that?
CAT: A stupid plan, that's what kind of plan it was.
LISTER: Well, why didn't we stop him?
RIMMER: We thought he had something up his sleeve.
CAT: Now we've got Queeg forever, and that's a long time.
HOLLY's face appears on the wall moniter.
HOLLY: Well, dudes, I've come to say goodbye.
LISTER: So you're definitely going to get rubbed, Holly?
HOLLY: 'Fraid so.
RIMMER: Life's going to be hell!
HOLLY: Well, see you, Dave. Hope it works out with you and Kochanski.
LISTER: Cheers, hol.
HOLLY: See you, Cat. Hope one day in the not too distant future you
fufill your heart's desire and get your end away.
CAT: Thanks, man.
HOLLY: And Arnold -- Well, I hope you meet those aliens your looking for,
who can give you a body, and you become an officer and you get a sex
life, and all the other millions of things you feel you need to make
you happy.
RIMMER: Thanks, Holly.
HOLLY: Well, I hate long goodbyes. Perhaps next time you've got the dosh
together to go dwn the disco, you'll raise a glass to your old mate
Holly, and think "Things weren't too bad when he was around. Perhaps
not the most efficient computer ever invented, but we had a giggle."
Oh, one last thing -- 45.265881
LISTER: What?
HOLLY: That's the square root of two thousand and forty-nine. I may not
be fast, but I get there in the end. Well, as they always say, finish
on a song.
He starts to sing.
HOLLY: "I'll say goodbye to love, No one really cared if I should live or
die, Time and time again the chance for love has passed me by..."
As he sings the last line his voice, and his image, grows fainter. The
word "ERASE" Appear on the moniter. HOLLY vanishes completely, and the
message changes to "ERASE COMPLETED." After a few seconds, QUEEG appears
on the monitor.
QUEEG: Okay, suckers, get this into your stupid thick heads. There's
only one thing I'm going to say to you.
LISTER: What?
QUEEG: What's happening, dudes?
The others stare at the moniter in astonishment. That was HOLLY's voice!
The image on the screen changes -- QUEEG's face fades out, to be replaced
by HOLLY. He is smiling smugly.
HOLLY: We are talking Jape of the Decade. We are talking April, May,
June, July, and August Fool. Yes, that's right -- I am Queeg.
RIMMER: WHAT?!?
HOLLY: Queeg never existed. It was me all along.
RIMMER: WHAT?!?
HOLLY: Wheeze of the week, mate!
RIMMER: WHAT?!?
HOLLY: Going round in circles for fourteen months! Getting my
information from the Junior Colour Encyclopedia of Space! the respect
you have for me is awsome, innit?
LISTER: You mean you staged the whole thing?
HOLLY: (QUEEG's voice) That's right, suckers! (Normal voice) And the
moral of the story is: Appreciate what you've got, because basically,
I'm fantastic!
The End
Season 2 Episode 4 Stasis Leak
RED DWARF Series II Episode 4, "Stasis Leak"
1 Ext. View of space.
HOLLY: (in space) Three million years from Earth, the mining ship Red
Dwarf. Its crew: Dave Lister, the last human being alive; Arnold
Rimmer, a hologram of his dead bunkmate; and a creature who evolved
from the ship's cat. Message ends.
(Reappearing) Additional: On our journey back to Earth, we have
encountered many strange and bizarre things. Only last month we came
across a moon which was shapedexactly like Felicity Kendall's bottom.
We flew around that one a couple of times.
Caption: 3 million years ago.
2 Int. CAPTAIN's office. Past.
LISTER, RIMMER, and CAPTAIN HOLLISTER are present. The CAPTAIN is
talking on the phone. He looks tired. LISTER is lounging, feet up, in
the office's other chair. RIMMER is standing to one side, at stiff
attention.
CAPTAIN: Okay. (puts phone down) Rimmer, make this quick.
RIMMER: Sir, I wish to place on record that third technician Lister,
David--
CAPTAIN: <Get on with it>, Rimmer.
RIMMER: --smuggled aboard the mining vessel Red Dwarf a consignment of a
hallucinogenic fungi "Titan Mushrooms," more popularly known to the
Space Beatnik community as "Freaky Fungus."
CAPTAIN: Is this true?
LISTER: Erm, sort of.
RIMMER: And on the morning of Febuary the 26th, at 0800 hrs, did engage
in conversation with second technician Rimmer, Arnold J.--
CAPTAIN: For crying out loud, Rimmer!
RIMMER: --the outcome of which was a proposal by the aforementioned
Lister to the aforementioned Rimmer to cook him breakfast.
CAPTAIN: Okay, I'm getting the picture.
RIMMER: Breakfast comprised of two eggs, three rashers of bacon, a
grilled tomato, two sausages, a small portion of fried potatoes... and
a large quantity of _mushrooms_. Having consumed this repast, second
technician Rimmer, Arnold J. experienced what can only be described as
a voyage to trip-out city. To whit, a major hallucinogenic fit.
CAPTAIN: Lister, is this true?
LISTER: No, sir. I'm sure it was only one egg.
RIMMER: The aforementioned Rimmer, to whit, me, then attended inspection
parade. He was totally naked except for a pair of mock-leather driving
gloves and some blue swimming goggles. Under the influence of this
psychadelic breakfast he went on to attack two senior officers,
believing them to be giraffes who were armed and dangerous.
CAPTAIN: You'd better have a good reason for this, Lister.
LISTER: I have, sir.
CAPTAIN: Why'd you do it?
LISTER: I thought it'd be a laugh.
CAPTAIN: Right. Two weeks PD, Lister. Dismissed.
RIMMER: With respect, sir, the penalty for a crime of this nature is
fifteen years imprisonment.
LISTER: <>
CAPTAIN: Rimmer, <I sentenced this man.>
RIMMER: Two weeks?
CAPTAIN: That's enough.
RIMMER: Two smegging weeks?
CAPTAIN: I said, that is enough!
RIMMER: With repect, sir, you've got your head right up your big fat
arse.
3 Int. Corridor.
People going to and fro, all looking busy.
RIMMER: Eight weeks PD! How come I get eight weeks and you get only two?
What did I do to deserve that? What did I do?
LISTER: You shouldn't have stuck your pencil up his nose!
RIMMER: It was the rubber end! Plus, the doctor will get it out in no
time.
LISTER: You ripped up and ate his wife's photograph.
RIMMER: I didn't know it was his wife. I thought it was a publicity shot
for "Planet Of The Apes."
They stop at a vending machine. LISTER presses a button.
LISTER: Two teas.
PASSER-BY: Excuse me.
LISTER: (to RIMMER) Listen, man, I'm sorry about those mushrooms, you
know. I mean, I didn't know... I'm not totally reckless and
irresponsible, for God's sake. I mean, when it comes down to it, I'm a
pretty straight and honest geezer.
RIMMER: Where did you get them?
LISTER: I nicked them. They were in a locker. They must have belonged
to Headbanger Harris.
They enter their quarters.
RIMMER: Why didn't you tell the Captain this?
LISTER: What? And get someone into trouble?
RIMMER: Oh, no. Eight weeks painting the smegging ship?
LISTER: I'm sorry.
RIMMER: Get the space-suits.
LISTER leaves. Suddenly a voice speaks from nowhere.
VOICE: I don't want you to panic, Arnold. I want you to stay absolutely
calm. I'm coming out in a moment, and I want you to keep your cool.
Are you ready? Here I come.
A hologrammatic head rises out of the floor -- RIMMER's, with a silver
"H" on the forehead. ARNOLD, understandably, jumps.
HEAD: There, that wasn't too bad, was it? Look, I found a stasis leak on
floor sixteen. I'm dead now, and you're not, but if I save you, you
won't die, so I won't die, and you won't be dead either, and neither
will I.
ARNOLD peers suspiciously at his coffee, wondering if LISTER has doped
him again.
4 Int. Sleeping quarters. Present.
LISTER is sitting at the table, reading. CAT is on the top bunk, sewing.
RIMMER enters.
RIMMER: Good book?
LISTER: Yeah, it's alright.
RIMMER: I didn't think you read.
LISTER: Not much, but this is good.
RIMMER: What is it?
LISTER: It's your diary.
RIMMER: WHAT!?
LISTER: I didn't know you sent secret love letters to Carol McCauley.
RIMMER: Lister, that is my private, personal, private diary; full of my
personal, private, personal things.
CAT: It's gone public.
RIMMER: I don't believe it! You've been reading that to the Cat?
CAT: Only the best bits!
LISTER: (reading) "Carol McCauley, your eyes are like two limpid pools in
the mornings."
RIMMER: Shut up.
LISTER: "Your hair is like a golden waterfall."
RIMMER: Shut up.
LISTER: "Plus, those tight skirts you wear make me really horny."
RIMMER: Lister, I order you to shut your face.
LISTER: It's no big deal, you know. You can read my diary.
RIMMER: Who'd want to read your diary? It's full of puerile nonsense
about Kristine Kochanski.
LISTER: Ah, So you've read my diary.
RIMMER: Yes, but at least I have the common decency to do it sneakily
behind your back.
CAT: He's right. That is definitely the decent thing to do!
LISTER: I'm doing it for a reason anyway. Look what I found in
Kochanski's quarters this morning.
RIMMER: So?
LISTER: Look at it!
RIMMER: It's a wedding photograph.
LISTER: Yeah, And who is the incredibly gorgeous hunky beefcake she is
marrying?
RIMMER: It's you! But you didn't marry Kochanski!
LISTER: Exactly! So how is this possible, unless somehow we go back in
time?
RIMMER: What's this got to do with my diary?
LISTER: It's this bit here about the mushrooms, isn't it. You see, when
you saw your head coming through the table, I don't think it was an
hallucination. I think you were seeing you, now, arriving back in the
past.
CAT: There's a wise old Cat saying which I think applies in this
situation. It goes: "What are you talking about, dog-breath?"
LISTER: Listen to what it said. It says; "The head came through the
table and said, `I'm from the future. I've come to save your life. We
found a stasis leak on floor sixteen.'" You see, I don't think it was
an hallucination.
CAT: What's a stasis leak?
Just then HOLLY appears on one of the monitors.
HOLLY: Alright, dudes. What's going down in groove town then?
LISTER: Alright, Hol. Listen, what's a stasis leak?
HOLLY: Um, well, very, very basically, putting it as simply as I can for
your average layman to comprehend, a stasis leak is a leak, right, _in
stasis_, hence the name "a stasis leak."
LISTER: You don't know, do you, Hol?
HOLLY: No, I don't.
LISTER: Well, I suggest we go down to floor sixteen and see what's there.
RIMMER: How come he never, ever knows anything? He's supposed to have an
I.Q. of six thousand!
HOLLY: Six thousand's not that much. It's only the same IQ as twelve
thousand car park attendants.
RIMMER: But you don't know anything.
HOLLY: Listen, I happen to be one of the sleekest, most sophisticated
computers ever devised by man. I'm the nearest thing you can get to
infullible.
LISTER: Infallible.
HOLLY: Exactly.
5 Int. Xpress lift.
A large, comfortable place, more like the interior of a plane than a
lift. On the walls, in English and Esperanto, is written "XPRESS LIFTS."
As they strap themselves in, LISTER gives their destination.
LISTER: Floor sixteen.
RIMMER: This is going to take ages.
A TV screen switches on to show the in-lift instructional video.
HOSTESS: (on video) Welcome to Xpress Lifts, descent to floor sixteen.
You will be going down two thousand, five hundred and sixty-seven
floors and, for a small extra charge, you can enjoy the in-lift movie
"Gone With the Wind." If you look to your right and to your left, you
will notice there are no exits. In the highly unlikely event of the
lift having to make a crash-landing, death is certain. Under your
seats you will find a cassette for recording your last-minute
testament, and from above your head a bag will drop containing
sedatives and cyanide capsules.
LISTER: I hate this stuff. It really freaks me out.
The video smiley holds up a cyanide capsule.
HOSTESS: To take the cyanide capsule, simply break open, like so,
(breaking it open) and place under the tongue.
The hostess places the cyanide capsule under her tongue then, with smile
fixed firmly in place, drops backwards out of shot, dead. The
instructional video ends, showing the XPRESS LIFTS logo.
6 Int. Xpress lift. 3 hours later.
The doors open at floor sixteen. LISTER emerges, followed by RIMMER and
CAT. They all appear to be suffering from extreme lift-lag. CAT looks
the worst: he reels out of the lift, clutching his stomach.
LIFT: Thank you for travelling Xpress Lifts. We apologise for the delay.
CAT: You should apologise for the chicken! First meal I ever had where
the container tasted better than the food!
7 Int. Level 16 corridor.
LISTER: This must be the stasis leak.
It's a blue, glowing hole in the wall, wreathed in cheap BBC special
effects white smoke. Cautiously, LISTER sticks his hand into it. His
hand vanishes. He pulls it back -- it emerges intact. He looks at the
others.
LISTER: Okay. Here we go.
He steps through the hole.
8 Int. Shower. Past.
He emerges in the men's shower room on the other side of the wall, but
three million years in the past. A digital clock above the wall mirrors
gives the date as being 22nd March 2077. He steps back through the hole
before any of the men shaving at the mirror can see him.
9 Int. Level 16 corridor. Present.
He beckons to RIMMER and CAT.
LISTER: It's safe. Come through.
10 Int. Shower. Past.
He steps back through the leak. RIMMER and CAT follow him. They all
emerge in the same shower cubicle.
CAT: (to RIMMER) What IS it?
RIMMER: It's a rent in the space-time continuum.
CAT: (to LISTER) What IS it?
LISTER: The stasis room freezes time, you know, makes time stand still.
So whenever you have a leak, it must preserve whatever it's leaked
into, and it's leaked into this room.
CAT: (to RIMMER) What IS it?
RIMMER: It's singularity, a point in the universe where the normal laws
of space and time don't apply.
CAT: (to LISTER) What IS it?
LISTER: It's a hole back into the past.
CAT: Oh, a magic door! Well, why didn't you say?
LISTER: March the twenty-second. That's what -- three weeks before the
crew got wiped out.
A man, wanting to use the shower, finds three fully-clothed strangers
inside it.
MAN: Hi.
RIMMER: Hi.
CAT: Hi.
LISTER: Do you mind? This is the Annual General Meeting of the
Agrophobics' Society!
LISTER draws the shower curtains shut.
RIMMER: I wonder if we can bring anybody back?
LISTER looks around, then picks up a bar of soap. They step back through
the hole. LISTER opens his hand, to reveal a handful of three-million-
year-old dust.
LISTER: Not unless we want them to be turned into powder.
CAT: Who were you thinking of bringing back?
RIMMER: Me.
CAT looks at the handful of dust and smiles wickedly.
CAT: Let's do it!
11 Int. Sleeping quarters. Present.
RIMMER: What's the point in going, if you can't bring anybody back?
LISTER: You've seen the photograph. I'm going to marry her.
RIMMER: But what's the point? In three weeks you'll be radioactive dust!
You might as well marry a box of Daz.
LISTER: I'm gonna stay with her.
RIMMER: You're going to stay with her? For the sake of three weeks
together you're going to give up your life?
LISTER: Yeah.
RIMMER: (jumps out of his bunk) I don't believe it. Lister, selfish or
what?
LISTER: Why?
RIMMER: What about me? I've given you the best years of my death! Is
that it, then? Three years, thanks a lot, pal, I'm off. No sort of
regrets? Not so much as a lump in your throat? No, you're thinking of
Kochanski. The only lump you've got is up the front of your trousers.
LISTER: I'm going for it, Rimmer. If there's one thing I've learned,
it's that you don't get many shots at happiness. So when you do, go
for them all.
RIMMER: (sits on the edge of his bunk) I'm sharing a bunk with a
character out of a Barbara Cartland novel.
LISTER: What would you do in my place?
RIMMER: I don't know, I... oh, do what you like.
LISTER: Where are you coming from, Rimmer? You don't even like me.
RIMMER: Don't I?
LISTER: No.
RIMMER: Fine.
LISTER: You don't though, do you? You don't even like me.
RIMMER: That's what you think, is it?
LISTER: Yeah.
RIMMER: I will tell you something that will probably stun you rigid.
LISTER: What?
RIMMER: You're right. I don't like you. I don't like what you _stand_
for. But, for some weird reason... I don't know. What's the point?
(lies down on his bunk) Everything always goes wrong for me. I'm
probably the only person in the world to buy a Topic Bar without a
single hazelnut in it.
LISTER: It happens, you know, Rimmer. You meet people, then you move on,
man. When I was ten, I had a friend called Duncan. Me best mate ever.
He taught me everything. He was the one who showed me how to put
mirrors on me toecaps so I could look up girl's skirts. Then his
father had to move to Spain because of a job. It was a bank job he
pulled in Perlie. Never saw him again. I still think of him,
though... every time I look at me shoes.
RIMMER: Don't try and explain it, Lister. I don't know why I'm even
surprised. Everyone always leaves me in the end. Girls, parents... I
had a pet lemming once. I loved that little lemming. I built him a
little wall so he could hurl himself over it. He didn't want for
anything. I'll never forget one Christmas I put my finger in his cage
to give him some mince pie. He bit me! He sunk his teeth right into
my fingers and wouldn't let go. In the end I had to smash his brains
out against the wall. That little lemming broke my heart. The little
git completely ruined my helicopter wallpaper.
LISTER: You know, maybe there is a way to bring people back from the
past.
RIMMER: Oh, how?
LISTER: Well, there's a spare stasis booth, isn't there? We could bring
one person back if we could persuade them to go into suspended
animation.
RIMMER: They'd survive the accident.
LISTER: Yeah. And when we got back to now, we could bring them out and
bingo!
RIMMER: Brilliant! I could save my own life! I wouldn't be dead!
LISTER: Just think -- I could bring her back!
RIMMER: I could bring me back! There'd be two me's -- a dead me and a
living me -- one for the week and one for Sunday best.
LISTER: Hey! There's only room for one and that's Krissie!
RIMMER: Rimmsie!
12 Int. Sleeping quarters. Later.
LISTER is getting ready for the trip back in time. He has dug out his
old gear and packed a rucksack. CAT enters, looking as garish as ever in
a glittering silver tuxedo and silver shirt. He puts his hand over the
eyes on a Marilyn Monroe poster on the wall.
CAT: Aaaoooow! Don't look, baby, It'll drive you crazy! (to LISTER)
Hey, what do you think? You said "look inconspicuous."
LISTER tosses him a stained yellow pair of coveralls.
LISTER: Put this on.
CAT: What?
LISTER: You'll stand out a mile like that.
CAT: I wouldn't use this to buff my shoes!
LISTER: Look, you can't walk round a mining ship looking like a finalist
from "Come Jiving."
CAT: But then everyone will think I'm just an ordinary person!
LISTER: That's the point.
CAT: They won't look at me and say "Who's that guy? He's gorgeous!"
LISTER: Put it on.
CAT: Ugh. Well, maybe if I widen the lapels a bit, put in a couple of
spangels and sequins and shoulder-pads...
LISTER: Put it on!
CAT: Where's Alphabet-Head?
LISTER: Rimmer? He sneaked off last night. He's already back in the
past, trying to save his own worthless life.
LISTER breathes on the face of his watch and buffs it on his sleeve.
LISTER: (to his watch) You reading me, Hol?
On the face of LISTER's watch, instead of a dial or a digital display, is
a monitor screen on which HOLLY's face is displayed.
HOLLY: Eugh. I could see right down your gob.
LISTER: Let's go.
HOLLY: I don't like being a watch, dangling about all sideways and upside
down. And give me fair warning before you put your hand in your
pocket. Gave me such a fright last time, that huge liquorice allsort
covered in fluff.
LISTER: Oh, cheers, Hol.
LISTER pulls the aforementioned dirt-covered foodstuff from his pocket...
HOLLY: Oh, here we go again.
...and flips it in the air, catching it in his mouth.
LISTER: (to CAT) Put that on!
13 Int. Level 16 corridor.
Enter LISTER, followed by CAT, who is laughing with happy anticipation.
LISTER: Here it is, man. Just stick with me, okay? Okay.
They step through the leak.
14 Int. Shower. Past.
LISTER arrives first. There is a man in the shower, who looks rather
surprised at being interrupted.
LISTER: (improvising) Excuse me, did you order a kiss-o-gram?
The man shakes his head in mute astonishment, and LISTER slips away. A
few second later the man's shower is yet again interrupted, this time by
a prime example of Felis Sapiens.
CAT: Excuse me, did you see a short human with pigtails coming through
here?
LISTER: (Voice-Over, distant) Yo, Cat!
CAT, grateful, turns to go. As he does so, he glances downwards. He
looks back up at the hapless showerer.
CAT: Never mind. It's the personality that counts.
15 Int. Docking port corridor.
Two ladies with haavy suitcases have just been targeted by Olaf PETERSEN,
LISTER's long-time drinking buddy and Arnie Shwarzenegger look-alike. He
approaches them from behind.
PETERSEN: Felicitations, beautiful ladies. Back from planet-leave? Let
me take those heavy cases. My name is Olaf Petersen. I am very good
in bed.
As Olaf picks up the suitcases, LISTER and CAT emerge from a nearby lift.
PETERSEN: It is always an honour to carry the personal luggages of such
beautiful ladies.
Just then LISTER spots PETERSEN -- whom he hasn't seen for two years --
and rushes to greet him.
LISTER: Petersen!
PETERSEN: Oh, hi.
LISTER: Petersen, how are you, mate? I don't believe it, it's you! I've
missed you, you know. Give us a kiss, you smelly-arsed smegger.
He kisses PETERSEN.
PETERSEN: (horrified) He's just a friend!
LISTER: (ecstatic) I don't believe it -- it's really you!
PETERSEN: He hasn't seen me since breakfast!
LISTER: I'll see you later!
PETERSEN: (trying to salvage some cool) Sure.
LISTER: No, I promise. I'll come to your _room_ and see you.
PETERSEN: Lister, you DIE for this!
LISTER and CAT head off down the corridor.
LISTER: That was Petersen, an old mate o' mine. We were like _that_. I
never thought... I mean, just think, I'm gonna be able to see everybody
again.
He crosses his arms, sticking one hand in an armpit.
HOLLY: Oy, give us a break, Dave. It's like a tropical rain forest in
there.
LISTER: Sorry, Hol.
Just then two pretty girls pass by. CAT's reaction is predictable.
CAT: Waaaooow! I've never been this close to women before! It makes me
wanna do something. I don't know what it is, but I want to do a lot of
it!
They pass a vending machine. Two men are standing there, talking about a
recent meeting thet have had with CAPTAIN HOLLISTER.
PAST RIMMER: I didn't know it was his wife. I thought it was a publicity
shot for "Planet Of The Apes."
PAST LISTER: Two teas.
RIMMER: (covering his hologram mark with one hand as he squeezes past)
Excuse me.
PAST LISTER: (to PAST RIMMER) Listen, man, I'm sorry about those
mushrooms, you know. I mean, I didn't know... I'm not totally reckless
and irresponsible, for God's sake. I mean, when it comes down to it,
I'm a pretty straight and honest geezer.
16 Int. Sleeping quarters. Past.
RIMMER enters the bunk-room and hides under the table -- by sinking
through it. A few seconds later, LISTER and RIMMER, the past versions,
enter the room.
PAST RIMMER: Why didn't you tell the Captain this?
PAST LISTER: What? And get someone into trouble?
PAST RIMMER: Oh no? Eight weeks painting the smegging ship?
PAST LISTER: I'm sorry.
PAST RIMMER: Get the space-suits.
The past LISTER leaves. RIMMER decides to make his move.
RIMMER: I don't want you to panic, Arnold. I want you to stay absolutely
calm. I'm coming out in a moment, and I want you to keep your cool.
Are you ready? Here I come.
He rises his head above the table. His past self jumps.
RIMMER: I found a stasis leak on floor sixteen. I'm dead now, and you're
not, but if I save you, you won't die, so I won't die, and you won't be
dead either, and neither will I.
The RIMMER from the past peers suspiciously at his coffee, wondering if
LISTER has doped him again.
PAST RIMMER: I may as well tell you right away, I know what you are.
RIMMER: You do?
PAST RIMMER: You're a mushroom, arent you?
RIMMER: What?
PAST RIMMER: A hallucination. Go away.
RIMMER: No, look. I'm you from the future. I've come to warn you, in
three million years you'll be dead.
PAST RIMMER: Will I really?
RIMMER: Yes. unless you do something about it now.
PAST RIMMER: Well, what do you suggest, give up white bread? More
roughage!?
RIMMER: You're not listening! You've got to go into stasis.
PAST RIMMER: Go away!
RIMMER: I'll be back soon.
RIMMER sinks through the table, off to contemplate further ways to
persuade his past self of his danger.
PAST RIMMER: Stay calm. It's gone now.
He crosses to the sink and peers into the mirror, checking his eyes and
tongue for signs of illness. The captain enters, dressed as a chicken.
RIMMER stares at him incredulously, unsure of what he is seeing.
CAPTAIN: Rimmer.
PAST RIMMER: Now you've turned into a chicken!
CAPTAIN: Listen, I just want to apologise. We both got a little carried
away... I've been under a lot of pressure.
RIMMER, deciding to play this one fast and loose, turns around and
addresses what he thinks is a rampant mushroom-bogie.
PAST RIMMER: Go away.
CAPTAIN: Obviously, I shouldn't have given you PD, I just got a little
riled.
PAST RIMMER: Did you indeed? How sad for you, Captain Paxo!
CAPTAIN: What? Oh, oh this. (indicating chicken-suit) No, I've... this
is for the party tonight.
PAST RIMMER: Half man, half chicken... You don't scare me, because I know
what you are. (makes chicken noises) Buck buck buck buck!
RIMMER gives the CAPTAIN an eye-watering kick in the nuts. The CAPTAIN
doubles over with a groan of pain.
PAST RIMMER: Now kindly cluck off before I extract your giblets and shove
a large seasoned onion between the lips you never kissed with.
CAPTAIN: (apoplectic) Forget everything I've just said! You have got
eight months PD!
PAST RIMMER: Well, we have a bit of a problem here, don't we? 'Cos I
don't take orders from poultry.
CAPTAIN: No, Rimmer -- make that eight years!
PAST RIMMER: Fine. I'll make a note of that, shall I?
He picks up a brush and a bucketfull of paint, and writes on the chest of
the CAPTAIN's chickensuit, saying the words out loud as he does so:
PAST RIMMER: Eight ... years. There we go.
He then dashes the green paint in the captain's face.
17 Int. KOCHANSKI'S quarters.
Her room-mate opens the door, to find LISTER and CAT outside.
LISTER: Hi. Is Kristine in?
ROOMMATE: No, she's still on planet-leave.
LISTER: Smeg. Did she say where she was staying?
ROOMMATE: She said something about The Ganymede Holiday Inn.
LISTER: Cheers.
He dashes off. CAT grins at Krissie's room-mate, trying to think of a
decent chat-up line -- this, after all, is the first woman he has ever
come face to face with. LISTER interrupts his ruminations, first with a
come-hither gesture then, when that doesn't work, by yanking CAT out of
the doorway after him.
18 Int. Foyer of Ganymede Holiday Inn.
Plush, sumptuous and elegant. Apart from the robot at the reception
desk, it would appear to be an exact reproduction of the Manchester
Holiday Inn, circa 1988. LISTER and CAT approach the main desk. As
LISTER makes enquiries, CAT wanders off, staring at the sights in this
strange building. A suitcase on wheels approaches him from behind.
SUITCASE: Excuse me.
CAT looks around, bewildered.
SUITCASE: No, no. Down here.
CAT looks down.
SUITCASE: Have you seen a man who's lost his luggage, about 5 foot 10,
mousy hair?
CAT: No, I haven't.
SUITCASE: Oh, no. I bet they've sent him to the wrong bloody airport
again!
CAT stares as the suitcase rolls away. So distracted is he, he bumps
into a lady wearing a fox fur. CAT, seeing the fur, reacts instantly!
CAT: Aaargh! Dog! And he's trying to strangle that woman!
CAT grabs the a spray-bottle of mineral water from a passing robot
waiter, and starts attacking the fox fur. The flabbergasted woman,
believing herself to be under attack by a (tastefully dressed) madman,
flees. CAT shakes the piece of fur by the throat, then jumps up and down
on it.
CAT: Don't worry, madam -- his strangling days are over!
Just then LISTER arrives, holding a piece of paper with KOCHANSKI's room
number on it.
LISTER: Cat, I've got it. C'mon. Room 008. This way!
19 Int. Outside KOCHANSKI'S hotel room.
LISTER stops, stunned, staring at the flowers, the "Do Not Disturb" sign,
the plaque on the door -- "Honeymoon Suite," the two pairs ofp shoes
outside the door. The evidence is incontrivertible. A sad tune starts
playing in the background.
LISTER: She's already married.
He turns away, sickened and stunned. Then, a thought occurs to him.
LISTER: What about the photograph?
He pulls it out and examines it again.
LISTER: I'm not the groom. (pointing to another figure in the picture)
He is the groom!
CAT: Hey -- she's not as stupid as we thought!
LISTER: Why do women always leave me for total smegheads? Why do they
dump me for men who wear turtleneck sweaters and smoke a pipe? I mean,
natural yoghurt eaters! Reliable, sensible, dependable, and lots of
other words that end in "-ible." He's obsessed with house-prices, and
spends half his life in antique fairs looking for bargains and drinking
wine. It's never beer, is it, it's always wine! "What do you want on
your cornflakes, darling?" "Oh, I'll have some wine, please!" Smeg!
He leans against a wall, bitter and angry. CAT taps him on one shoulder.
CAT: You can tell all that, just from a photograph?
HOLLY: Oy, not your pockets! Dear oh dear, It's horrible down there.
There's a big hole. It's an unbelievable view. Reminds me of that
film -- "Attack Of The Killer Gooseberries."
LISTER: Come on, Hol. I'm broken up, man.
HOLLY: I was in love once -- a Sinclair ZX-81. People said, "No, Holly,
she's not for you." She was cheap, she was stupid and she wouldn't load
-- well, not for me, anyway.
LISTER: What are you trying to say, Hol?
HOLLY: What I'm saying, Dave, is that it's better to have loved and to
have lost than to listen to an album by Olivia Newton-John.
CAT: Why's that?
HOLLY: Anything's better than listening to an album by Olivia Newton-
John.
Just then, the door to the Honeymoon Suite opens and KOCHANSKI steps out.
KOCHANSKI: Oh, hi. It's you.
LISTER: (depressed) Oh. Hi.
KOCHANSKI: Come in.
LISTER: (panicky) No, no, we were just passin'.
KOCHANSKI: (amused) Come in.
LISTER: No, no, really, it's okay.
CAT decides to go in anyway.
LISTER: Cat! Come on, We've got to go!
20 Int. Honeymoon suite.
They enter the sumptuous suite. CAT is awed by all this luxury.
CAT: Aooooowww!
KOCHANSKI: I just got married. (showing off her wedding ring)
LISTER: Oh, great.
KOCHANSKI: He's in the shower.
LISTER: Oh.
KOCHANSKI: I think you'll really like him.
LISTER: Oh, I bet.
KOCHANSKI: (pouring cocktails) Do you want a screwdriver?
LISTER: I'd rather have a hammer.
Just then, the door to the shower opens and out steps... LISTER. Older,
bearded as in the photo, wearing a bathrobe, he greets his younger self
with a grin.
FUTURE LISTER: So how ya doin', kid?
LISTER: Smeg.
CAT: (popping up behind FUTURE LISTER and KOCHANSKI) What is this, a
meeting of the ugly convention?
LISTER: Where did you come from?
FUTURE LISTER: The bathroom. (he laughs) Well, you don't look very
pleased to see me.
LISTER: Well, quite frankly, I'm not. I mean, I came here today 'cos I
thought I was going to get married.
KOCHANSKI: And you did.
LISTER: No, he did!
KOCHANSKI: But he's you!
LISTER: No, I'm me.
KOCHANSKI: Well, who's he then?
LISTER: He's him...
CAT: (gesturing with a purloined leg of chicken) He's you and you're him,
and you're him and he's him -- am I still me? Who's eatin' this
chicken? What the hell is going on??
FUTURE LISTER: Look look look, listen: In five years time, you find
another way to come back in time.
LISTER: So it does work out?
KOCHANSKI: Eventually.
LISTER: So how about a frenchie from me future bride?
FUTURE LISTER: No way. On your space-bike.
He grabs LISTER and CAT and herds them towards the door. LISTER stops
him at the door and leans on the door jamb.
LISTER: So, listen. What do I do now?
FUTURE LISTER: Go back to where you came from and wait for five years.
LISTER: Have I always been such a smeg-head? Or did I change?
FUTURE LISTER: You've always been like that. Out.
LISTER: So, listen, man. You've lived my life for the last five years.
So, what's the single most important piece of advice that you can give
me?
FUTURE LISTER: (thinks hard) Erm. Oh, yeah. Three years from now,
you'll go through a cosmic storm and end up in a parallel universe.
You'll materialise on an exact replica of Earth in the year 1989.
You'll want to go to the theatre. Whatever you do, don't go and see
"Run For Your Wife."
He half shoves LISTER and CAT out the door, then leans on it and grins at
his bride.
LISTER: Smeg head.
FUTURE LISTER: (through the door) And you.
CAT holds up a pilferred bottle of wine. They both grin soundlessly.
21 Int. Sleeping quarters. Past.
An orderly wheels in RIMMER, who is strapped into a wheelchair and
dressed in hospital clothing -- a thin gown, socks and a plastic cap.
LISTER, still dressed in his space-suit, is fast asleep on his bunk.
PAST RIMMER: So, they won't come back again?
ORDERLY: Just stay calm, keep cool, and get some sleep.
PAST RIMMER: (seeing LISTER) There he is. Sleeping like a baby. I'm
going to get better, then I'm going to kill him.
The orderly unstraps RIMMER from the chair, then helps him over to his
bed.
ORDERLY: If you need anything, Call Holly.
The orderly leaves. RIMMER sits on the edge of his bunk, thoroughly
depressed. What's about to happen will not alleviate this state.
RIMMER: (VO, muffled) I don't want you to panic, Arnold, but I've had a
jolly good think, and I think I know how to explain this to you.
He sticks his head above the table. His past self stares at him with a
mixture of fear, shock and abject horror.
RIMMER: Hi.
PAST RIMMER: Hi. I'm staying calm this time.
He is not, although fighting valiantly for control.
RIMMER: Good.
Just then CAT and LISTER enter. The past RIMMER does a double take,
looking from the LISTER on the bunk to the one in the doorway.
LISTER: Yo, Rimmer, there you are. I've been looking everywhere.
RIMMER: Not now, Lister.
PAST RIMMER: (very tense) TWO Listers? And a strange man with large
teeth!
CAT: Hey, I'm a cat!
PAST RIMMER: (not a well man) Oh, of course you're a cat! Come in, sit
down, there's plenty of room.
Just then who should drop by but the just-married couple, LISTER and
KOCHANSKI.
FUTURE LISTER: Yo!
PAST RIMMER: (losing it fast) THREE Listers!! Splendid!!! Perhaps Lister
here would like to go over to the fridge and open a bottle of wine for
Lister and Lister!!!! Rimmer here doesn't drink, because he's dead, but
I wouldn't mind a glass!!!!!
VOICE: (RIMMER's voice) I don't want anyone to get into a flap here, but
I'm the RIMMER who's from the double-double future.
He rises from the dresser in the corner and steps forward. He is dressed
in a tux (He has, after all, just been to a wedding), and has a thin
mustache.
FUTURE RIMMER: I'm the Rimmer who's with the Lister who married
Kochanski. Now, from this point on, things get a little bit
confusing...
PAST RIMMER: (the calm before the storm) Please! Before anyone says
anything else, I'd just like to make a little speech. (flipping out
completely) GO AWAAAYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!
Close-up on RIMMER's mouth as he screams, and fade out.
The End
1 Ext. View of space.
HOLLY: (in space) Three million years from Earth, the mining ship Red
Dwarf. Its crew: Dave Lister, the last human being alive; Arnold
Rimmer, a hologram of his dead bunkmate; and a creature who evolved
from the ship's cat. Message ends.
(Reappearing) Additional: On our journey back to Earth, we have
encountered many strange and bizarre things. Only last month we came
across a moon which was shapedexactly like Felicity Kendall's bottom.
We flew around that one a couple of times.
Caption: 3 million years ago.
2 Int. CAPTAIN's office. Past.
LISTER, RIMMER, and CAPTAIN HOLLISTER are present. The CAPTAIN is
talking on the phone. He looks tired. LISTER is lounging, feet up, in
the office's other chair. RIMMER is standing to one side, at stiff
attention.
CAPTAIN: Okay. (puts phone down) Rimmer, make this quick.
RIMMER: Sir, I wish to place on record that third technician Lister,
David--
CAPTAIN: <Get on with it>, Rimmer.
RIMMER: --smuggled aboard the mining vessel Red Dwarf a consignment of a
hallucinogenic fungi "Titan Mushrooms," more popularly known to the
Space Beatnik community as "Freaky Fungus."
CAPTAIN: Is this true?
LISTER: Erm, sort of.
RIMMER: And on the morning of Febuary the 26th, at 0800 hrs, did engage
in conversation with second technician Rimmer, Arnold J.--
CAPTAIN: For crying out loud, Rimmer!
RIMMER: --the outcome of which was a proposal by the aforementioned
Lister to the aforementioned Rimmer to cook him breakfast.
CAPTAIN: Okay, I'm getting the picture.
RIMMER: Breakfast comprised of two eggs, three rashers of bacon, a
grilled tomato, two sausages, a small portion of fried potatoes... and
a large quantity of _mushrooms_. Having consumed this repast, second
technician Rimmer, Arnold J. experienced what can only be described as
a voyage to trip-out city. To whit, a major hallucinogenic fit.
CAPTAIN: Lister, is this true?
LISTER: No, sir. I'm sure it was only one egg.
RIMMER: The aforementioned Rimmer, to whit, me, then attended inspection
parade. He was totally naked except for a pair of mock-leather driving
gloves and some blue swimming goggles. Under the influence of this
psychadelic breakfast he went on to attack two senior officers,
believing them to be giraffes who were armed and dangerous.
CAPTAIN: You'd better have a good reason for this, Lister.
LISTER: I have, sir.
CAPTAIN: Why'd you do it?
LISTER: I thought it'd be a laugh.
CAPTAIN: Right. Two weeks PD, Lister. Dismissed.
RIMMER: With respect, sir, the penalty for a crime of this nature is
fifteen years imprisonment.
LISTER: <>
CAPTAIN: Rimmer, <I sentenced this man.>
RIMMER: Two weeks?
CAPTAIN: That's enough.
RIMMER: Two smegging weeks?
CAPTAIN: I said, that is enough!
RIMMER: With repect, sir, you've got your head right up your big fat
arse.
3 Int. Corridor.
People going to and fro, all looking busy.
RIMMER: Eight weeks PD! How come I get eight weeks and you get only two?
What did I do to deserve that? What did I do?
LISTER: You shouldn't have stuck your pencil up his nose!
RIMMER: It was the rubber end! Plus, the doctor will get it out in no
time.
LISTER: You ripped up and ate his wife's photograph.
RIMMER: I didn't know it was his wife. I thought it was a publicity shot
for "Planet Of The Apes."
They stop at a vending machine. LISTER presses a button.
LISTER: Two teas.
PASSER-BY: Excuse me.
LISTER: (to RIMMER) Listen, man, I'm sorry about those mushrooms, you
know. I mean, I didn't know... I'm not totally reckless and
irresponsible, for God's sake. I mean, when it comes down to it, I'm a
pretty straight and honest geezer.
RIMMER: Where did you get them?
LISTER: I nicked them. They were in a locker. They must have belonged
to Headbanger Harris.
They enter their quarters.
RIMMER: Why didn't you tell the Captain this?
LISTER: What? And get someone into trouble?
RIMMER: Oh, no. Eight weeks painting the smegging ship?
LISTER: I'm sorry.
RIMMER: Get the space-suits.
LISTER leaves. Suddenly a voice speaks from nowhere.
VOICE: I don't want you to panic, Arnold. I want you to stay absolutely
calm. I'm coming out in a moment, and I want you to keep your cool.
Are you ready? Here I come.
A hologrammatic head rises out of the floor -- RIMMER's, with a silver
"H" on the forehead. ARNOLD, understandably, jumps.
HEAD: There, that wasn't too bad, was it? Look, I found a stasis leak on
floor sixteen. I'm dead now, and you're not, but if I save you, you
won't die, so I won't die, and you won't be dead either, and neither
will I.
ARNOLD peers suspiciously at his coffee, wondering if LISTER has doped
him again.
4 Int. Sleeping quarters. Present.
LISTER is sitting at the table, reading. CAT is on the top bunk, sewing.
RIMMER enters.
RIMMER: Good book?
LISTER: Yeah, it's alright.
RIMMER: I didn't think you read.
LISTER: Not much, but this is good.
RIMMER: What is it?
LISTER: It's your diary.
RIMMER: WHAT!?
LISTER: I didn't know you sent secret love letters to Carol McCauley.
RIMMER: Lister, that is my private, personal, private diary; full of my
personal, private, personal things.
CAT: It's gone public.
RIMMER: I don't believe it! You've been reading that to the Cat?
CAT: Only the best bits!
LISTER: (reading) "Carol McCauley, your eyes are like two limpid pools in
the mornings."
RIMMER: Shut up.
LISTER: "Your hair is like a golden waterfall."
RIMMER: Shut up.
LISTER: "Plus, those tight skirts you wear make me really horny."
RIMMER: Lister, I order you to shut your face.
LISTER: It's no big deal, you know. You can read my diary.
RIMMER: Who'd want to read your diary? It's full of puerile nonsense
about Kristine Kochanski.
LISTER: Ah, So you've read my diary.
RIMMER: Yes, but at least I have the common decency to do it sneakily
behind your back.
CAT: He's right. That is definitely the decent thing to do!
LISTER: I'm doing it for a reason anyway. Look what I found in
Kochanski's quarters this morning.
RIMMER: So?
LISTER: Look at it!
RIMMER: It's a wedding photograph.
LISTER: Yeah, And who is the incredibly gorgeous hunky beefcake she is
marrying?
RIMMER: It's you! But you didn't marry Kochanski!
LISTER: Exactly! So how is this possible, unless somehow we go back in
time?
RIMMER: What's this got to do with my diary?
LISTER: It's this bit here about the mushrooms, isn't it. You see, when
you saw your head coming through the table, I don't think it was an
hallucination. I think you were seeing you, now, arriving back in the
past.
CAT: There's a wise old Cat saying which I think applies in this
situation. It goes: "What are you talking about, dog-breath?"
LISTER: Listen to what it said. It says; "The head came through the
table and said, `I'm from the future. I've come to save your life. We
found a stasis leak on floor sixteen.'" You see, I don't think it was
an hallucination.
CAT: What's a stasis leak?
Just then HOLLY appears on one of the monitors.
HOLLY: Alright, dudes. What's going down in groove town then?
LISTER: Alright, Hol. Listen, what's a stasis leak?
HOLLY: Um, well, very, very basically, putting it as simply as I can for
your average layman to comprehend, a stasis leak is a leak, right, _in
stasis_, hence the name "a stasis leak."
LISTER: You don't know, do you, Hol?
HOLLY: No, I don't.
LISTER: Well, I suggest we go down to floor sixteen and see what's there.
RIMMER: How come he never, ever knows anything? He's supposed to have an
I.Q. of six thousand!
HOLLY: Six thousand's not that much. It's only the same IQ as twelve
thousand car park attendants.
RIMMER: But you don't know anything.
HOLLY: Listen, I happen to be one of the sleekest, most sophisticated
computers ever devised by man. I'm the nearest thing you can get to
infullible.
LISTER: Infallible.
HOLLY: Exactly.
5 Int. Xpress lift.
A large, comfortable place, more like the interior of a plane than a
lift. On the walls, in English and Esperanto, is written "XPRESS LIFTS."
As they strap themselves in, LISTER gives their destination.
LISTER: Floor sixteen.
RIMMER: This is going to take ages.
A TV screen switches on to show the in-lift instructional video.
HOSTESS: (on video) Welcome to Xpress Lifts, descent to floor sixteen.
You will be going down two thousand, five hundred and sixty-seven
floors and, for a small extra charge, you can enjoy the in-lift movie
"Gone With the Wind." If you look to your right and to your left, you
will notice there are no exits. In the highly unlikely event of the
lift having to make a crash-landing, death is certain. Under your
seats you will find a cassette for recording your last-minute
testament, and from above your head a bag will drop containing
sedatives and cyanide capsules.
LISTER: I hate this stuff. It really freaks me out.
The video smiley holds up a cyanide capsule.
HOSTESS: To take the cyanide capsule, simply break open, like so,
(breaking it open) and place under the tongue.
The hostess places the cyanide capsule under her tongue then, with smile
fixed firmly in place, drops backwards out of shot, dead. The
instructional video ends, showing the XPRESS LIFTS logo.
6 Int. Xpress lift. 3 hours later.
The doors open at floor sixteen. LISTER emerges, followed by RIMMER and
CAT. They all appear to be suffering from extreme lift-lag. CAT looks
the worst: he reels out of the lift, clutching his stomach.
LIFT: Thank you for travelling Xpress Lifts. We apologise for the delay.
CAT: You should apologise for the chicken! First meal I ever had where
the container tasted better than the food!
7 Int. Level 16 corridor.
LISTER: This must be the stasis leak.
It's a blue, glowing hole in the wall, wreathed in cheap BBC special
effects white smoke. Cautiously, LISTER sticks his hand into it. His
hand vanishes. He pulls it back -- it emerges intact. He looks at the
others.
LISTER: Okay. Here we go.
He steps through the hole.
8 Int. Shower. Past.
He emerges in the men's shower room on the other side of the wall, but
three million years in the past. A digital clock above the wall mirrors
gives the date as being 22nd March 2077. He steps back through the hole
before any of the men shaving at the mirror can see him.
9 Int. Level 16 corridor. Present.
He beckons to RIMMER and CAT.
LISTER: It's safe. Come through.
10 Int. Shower. Past.
He steps back through the leak. RIMMER and CAT follow him. They all
emerge in the same shower cubicle.
CAT: (to RIMMER) What IS it?
RIMMER: It's a rent in the space-time continuum.
CAT: (to LISTER) What IS it?
LISTER: The stasis room freezes time, you know, makes time stand still.
So whenever you have a leak, it must preserve whatever it's leaked
into, and it's leaked into this room.
CAT: (to RIMMER) What IS it?
RIMMER: It's singularity, a point in the universe where the normal laws
of space and time don't apply.
CAT: (to LISTER) What IS it?
LISTER: It's a hole back into the past.
CAT: Oh, a magic door! Well, why didn't you say?
LISTER: March the twenty-second. That's what -- three weeks before the
crew got wiped out.
A man, wanting to use the shower, finds three fully-clothed strangers
inside it.
MAN: Hi.
RIMMER: Hi.
CAT: Hi.
LISTER: Do you mind? This is the Annual General Meeting of the
Agrophobics' Society!
LISTER draws the shower curtains shut.
RIMMER: I wonder if we can bring anybody back?
LISTER looks around, then picks up a bar of soap. They step back through
the hole. LISTER opens his hand, to reveal a handful of three-million-
year-old dust.
LISTER: Not unless we want them to be turned into powder.
CAT: Who were you thinking of bringing back?
RIMMER: Me.
CAT looks at the handful of dust and smiles wickedly.
CAT: Let's do it!
11 Int. Sleeping quarters. Present.
RIMMER: What's the point in going, if you can't bring anybody back?
LISTER: You've seen the photograph. I'm going to marry her.
RIMMER: But what's the point? In three weeks you'll be radioactive dust!
You might as well marry a box of Daz.
LISTER: I'm gonna stay with her.
RIMMER: You're going to stay with her? For the sake of three weeks
together you're going to give up your life?
LISTER: Yeah.
RIMMER: (jumps out of his bunk) I don't believe it. Lister, selfish or
what?
LISTER: Why?
RIMMER: What about me? I've given you the best years of my death! Is
that it, then? Three years, thanks a lot, pal, I'm off. No sort of
regrets? Not so much as a lump in your throat? No, you're thinking of
Kochanski. The only lump you've got is up the front of your trousers.
LISTER: I'm going for it, Rimmer. If there's one thing I've learned,
it's that you don't get many shots at happiness. So when you do, go
for them all.
RIMMER: (sits on the edge of his bunk) I'm sharing a bunk with a
character out of a Barbara Cartland novel.
LISTER: What would you do in my place?
RIMMER: I don't know, I... oh, do what you like.
LISTER: Where are you coming from, Rimmer? You don't even like me.
RIMMER: Don't I?
LISTER: No.
RIMMER: Fine.
LISTER: You don't though, do you? You don't even like me.
RIMMER: That's what you think, is it?
LISTER: Yeah.
RIMMER: I will tell you something that will probably stun you rigid.
LISTER: What?
RIMMER: You're right. I don't like you. I don't like what you _stand_
for. But, for some weird reason... I don't know. What's the point?
(lies down on his bunk) Everything always goes wrong for me. I'm
probably the only person in the world to buy a Topic Bar without a
single hazelnut in it.
LISTER: It happens, you know, Rimmer. You meet people, then you move on,
man. When I was ten, I had a friend called Duncan. Me best mate ever.
He taught me everything. He was the one who showed me how to put
mirrors on me toecaps so I could look up girl's skirts. Then his
father had to move to Spain because of a job. It was a bank job he
pulled in Perlie. Never saw him again. I still think of him,
though... every time I look at me shoes.
RIMMER: Don't try and explain it, Lister. I don't know why I'm even
surprised. Everyone always leaves me in the end. Girls, parents... I
had a pet lemming once. I loved that little lemming. I built him a
little wall so he could hurl himself over it. He didn't want for
anything. I'll never forget one Christmas I put my finger in his cage
to give him some mince pie. He bit me! He sunk his teeth right into
my fingers and wouldn't let go. In the end I had to smash his brains
out against the wall. That little lemming broke my heart. The little
git completely ruined my helicopter wallpaper.
LISTER: You know, maybe there is a way to bring people back from the
past.
RIMMER: Oh, how?
LISTER: Well, there's a spare stasis booth, isn't there? We could bring
one person back if we could persuade them to go into suspended
animation.
RIMMER: They'd survive the accident.
LISTER: Yeah. And when we got back to now, we could bring them out and
bingo!
RIMMER: Brilliant! I could save my own life! I wouldn't be dead!
LISTER: Just think -- I could bring her back!
RIMMER: I could bring me back! There'd be two me's -- a dead me and a
living me -- one for the week and one for Sunday best.
LISTER: Hey! There's only room for one and that's Krissie!
RIMMER: Rimmsie!
12 Int. Sleeping quarters. Later.
LISTER is getting ready for the trip back in time. He has dug out his
old gear and packed a rucksack. CAT enters, looking as garish as ever in
a glittering silver tuxedo and silver shirt. He puts his hand over the
eyes on a Marilyn Monroe poster on the wall.
CAT: Aaaoooow! Don't look, baby, It'll drive you crazy! (to LISTER)
Hey, what do you think? You said "look inconspicuous."
LISTER tosses him a stained yellow pair of coveralls.
LISTER: Put this on.
CAT: What?
LISTER: You'll stand out a mile like that.
CAT: I wouldn't use this to buff my shoes!
LISTER: Look, you can't walk round a mining ship looking like a finalist
from "Come Jiving."
CAT: But then everyone will think I'm just an ordinary person!
LISTER: That's the point.
CAT: They won't look at me and say "Who's that guy? He's gorgeous!"
LISTER: Put it on.
CAT: Ugh. Well, maybe if I widen the lapels a bit, put in a couple of
spangels and sequins and shoulder-pads...
LISTER: Put it on!
CAT: Where's Alphabet-Head?
LISTER: Rimmer? He sneaked off last night. He's already back in the
past, trying to save his own worthless life.
LISTER breathes on the face of his watch and buffs it on his sleeve.
LISTER: (to his watch) You reading me, Hol?
On the face of LISTER's watch, instead of a dial or a digital display, is
a monitor screen on which HOLLY's face is displayed.
HOLLY: Eugh. I could see right down your gob.
LISTER: Let's go.
HOLLY: I don't like being a watch, dangling about all sideways and upside
down. And give me fair warning before you put your hand in your
pocket. Gave me such a fright last time, that huge liquorice allsort
covered in fluff.
LISTER: Oh, cheers, Hol.
LISTER pulls the aforementioned dirt-covered foodstuff from his pocket...
HOLLY: Oh, here we go again.
...and flips it in the air, catching it in his mouth.
LISTER: (to CAT) Put that on!
13 Int. Level 16 corridor.
Enter LISTER, followed by CAT, who is laughing with happy anticipation.
LISTER: Here it is, man. Just stick with me, okay? Okay.
They step through the leak.
14 Int. Shower. Past.
LISTER arrives first. There is a man in the shower, who looks rather
surprised at being interrupted.
LISTER: (improvising) Excuse me, did you order a kiss-o-gram?
The man shakes his head in mute astonishment, and LISTER slips away. A
few second later the man's shower is yet again interrupted, this time by
a prime example of Felis Sapiens.
CAT: Excuse me, did you see a short human with pigtails coming through
here?
LISTER: (Voice-Over, distant) Yo, Cat!
CAT, grateful, turns to go. As he does so, he glances downwards. He
looks back up at the hapless showerer.
CAT: Never mind. It's the personality that counts.
15 Int. Docking port corridor.
Two ladies with haavy suitcases have just been targeted by Olaf PETERSEN,
LISTER's long-time drinking buddy and Arnie Shwarzenegger look-alike. He
approaches them from behind.
PETERSEN: Felicitations, beautiful ladies. Back from planet-leave? Let
me take those heavy cases. My name is Olaf Petersen. I am very good
in bed.
As Olaf picks up the suitcases, LISTER and CAT emerge from a nearby lift.
PETERSEN: It is always an honour to carry the personal luggages of such
beautiful ladies.
Just then LISTER spots PETERSEN -- whom he hasn't seen for two years --
and rushes to greet him.
LISTER: Petersen!
PETERSEN: Oh, hi.
LISTER: Petersen, how are you, mate? I don't believe it, it's you! I've
missed you, you know. Give us a kiss, you smelly-arsed smegger.
He kisses PETERSEN.
PETERSEN: (horrified) He's just a friend!
LISTER: (ecstatic) I don't believe it -- it's really you!
PETERSEN: He hasn't seen me since breakfast!
LISTER: I'll see you later!
PETERSEN: (trying to salvage some cool) Sure.
LISTER: No, I promise. I'll come to your _room_ and see you.
PETERSEN: Lister, you DIE for this!
LISTER and CAT head off down the corridor.
LISTER: That was Petersen, an old mate o' mine. We were like _that_. I
never thought... I mean, just think, I'm gonna be able to see everybody
again.
He crosses his arms, sticking one hand in an armpit.
HOLLY: Oy, give us a break, Dave. It's like a tropical rain forest in
there.
LISTER: Sorry, Hol.
Just then two pretty girls pass by. CAT's reaction is predictable.
CAT: Waaaooow! I've never been this close to women before! It makes me
wanna do something. I don't know what it is, but I want to do a lot of
it!
They pass a vending machine. Two men are standing there, talking about a
recent meeting thet have had with CAPTAIN HOLLISTER.
PAST RIMMER: I didn't know it was his wife. I thought it was a publicity
shot for "Planet Of The Apes."
PAST LISTER: Two teas.
RIMMER: (covering his hologram mark with one hand as he squeezes past)
Excuse me.
PAST LISTER: (to PAST RIMMER) Listen, man, I'm sorry about those
mushrooms, you know. I mean, I didn't know... I'm not totally reckless
and irresponsible, for God's sake. I mean, when it comes down to it,
I'm a pretty straight and honest geezer.
16 Int. Sleeping quarters. Past.
RIMMER enters the bunk-room and hides under the table -- by sinking
through it. A few seconds later, LISTER and RIMMER, the past versions,
enter the room.
PAST RIMMER: Why didn't you tell the Captain this?
PAST LISTER: What? And get someone into trouble?
PAST RIMMER: Oh no? Eight weeks painting the smegging ship?
PAST LISTER: I'm sorry.
PAST RIMMER: Get the space-suits.
The past LISTER leaves. RIMMER decides to make his move.
RIMMER: I don't want you to panic, Arnold. I want you to stay absolutely
calm. I'm coming out in a moment, and I want you to keep your cool.
Are you ready? Here I come.
He rises his head above the table. His past self jumps.
RIMMER: I found a stasis leak on floor sixteen. I'm dead now, and you're
not, but if I save you, you won't die, so I won't die, and you won't be
dead either, and neither will I.
The RIMMER from the past peers suspiciously at his coffee, wondering if
LISTER has doped him again.
PAST RIMMER: I may as well tell you right away, I know what you are.
RIMMER: You do?
PAST RIMMER: You're a mushroom, arent you?
RIMMER: What?
PAST RIMMER: A hallucination. Go away.
RIMMER: No, look. I'm you from the future. I've come to warn you, in
three million years you'll be dead.
PAST RIMMER: Will I really?
RIMMER: Yes. unless you do something about it now.
PAST RIMMER: Well, what do you suggest, give up white bread? More
roughage!?
RIMMER: You're not listening! You've got to go into stasis.
PAST RIMMER: Go away!
RIMMER: I'll be back soon.
RIMMER sinks through the table, off to contemplate further ways to
persuade his past self of his danger.
PAST RIMMER: Stay calm. It's gone now.
He crosses to the sink and peers into the mirror, checking his eyes and
tongue for signs of illness. The captain enters, dressed as a chicken.
RIMMER stares at him incredulously, unsure of what he is seeing.
CAPTAIN: Rimmer.
PAST RIMMER: Now you've turned into a chicken!
CAPTAIN: Listen, I just want to apologise. We both got a little carried
away... I've been under a lot of pressure.
RIMMER, deciding to play this one fast and loose, turns around and
addresses what he thinks is a rampant mushroom-bogie.
PAST RIMMER: Go away.
CAPTAIN: Obviously, I shouldn't have given you PD, I just got a little
riled.
PAST RIMMER: Did you indeed? How sad for you, Captain Paxo!
CAPTAIN: What? Oh, oh this. (indicating chicken-suit) No, I've... this
is for the party tonight.
PAST RIMMER: Half man, half chicken... You don't scare me, because I know
what you are. (makes chicken noises) Buck buck buck buck!
RIMMER gives the CAPTAIN an eye-watering kick in the nuts. The CAPTAIN
doubles over with a groan of pain.
PAST RIMMER: Now kindly cluck off before I extract your giblets and shove
a large seasoned onion between the lips you never kissed with.
CAPTAIN: (apoplectic) Forget everything I've just said! You have got
eight months PD!
PAST RIMMER: Well, we have a bit of a problem here, don't we? 'Cos I
don't take orders from poultry.
CAPTAIN: No, Rimmer -- make that eight years!
PAST RIMMER: Fine. I'll make a note of that, shall I?
He picks up a brush and a bucketfull of paint, and writes on the chest of
the CAPTAIN's chickensuit, saying the words out loud as he does so:
PAST RIMMER: Eight ... years. There we go.
He then dashes the green paint in the captain's face.
17 Int. KOCHANSKI'S quarters.
Her room-mate opens the door, to find LISTER and CAT outside.
LISTER: Hi. Is Kristine in?
ROOMMATE: No, she's still on planet-leave.
LISTER: Smeg. Did she say where she was staying?
ROOMMATE: She said something about The Ganymede Holiday Inn.
LISTER: Cheers.
He dashes off. CAT grins at Krissie's room-mate, trying to think of a
decent chat-up line -- this, after all, is the first woman he has ever
come face to face with. LISTER interrupts his ruminations, first with a
come-hither gesture then, when that doesn't work, by yanking CAT out of
the doorway after him.
18 Int. Foyer of Ganymede Holiday Inn.
Plush, sumptuous and elegant. Apart from the robot at the reception
desk, it would appear to be an exact reproduction of the Manchester
Holiday Inn, circa 1988. LISTER and CAT approach the main desk. As
LISTER makes enquiries, CAT wanders off, staring at the sights in this
strange building. A suitcase on wheels approaches him from behind.
SUITCASE: Excuse me.
CAT looks around, bewildered.
SUITCASE: No, no. Down here.
CAT looks down.
SUITCASE: Have you seen a man who's lost his luggage, about 5 foot 10,
mousy hair?
CAT: No, I haven't.
SUITCASE: Oh, no. I bet they've sent him to the wrong bloody airport
again!
CAT stares as the suitcase rolls away. So distracted is he, he bumps
into a lady wearing a fox fur. CAT, seeing the fur, reacts instantly!
CAT: Aaargh! Dog! And he's trying to strangle that woman!
CAT grabs the a spray-bottle of mineral water from a passing robot
waiter, and starts attacking the fox fur. The flabbergasted woman,
believing herself to be under attack by a (tastefully dressed) madman,
flees. CAT shakes the piece of fur by the throat, then jumps up and down
on it.
CAT: Don't worry, madam -- his strangling days are over!
Just then LISTER arrives, holding a piece of paper with KOCHANSKI's room
number on it.
LISTER: Cat, I've got it. C'mon. Room 008. This way!
19 Int. Outside KOCHANSKI'S hotel room.
LISTER stops, stunned, staring at the flowers, the "Do Not Disturb" sign,
the plaque on the door -- "Honeymoon Suite," the two pairs ofp shoes
outside the door. The evidence is incontrivertible. A sad tune starts
playing in the background.
LISTER: She's already married.
He turns away, sickened and stunned. Then, a thought occurs to him.
LISTER: What about the photograph?
He pulls it out and examines it again.
LISTER: I'm not the groom. (pointing to another figure in the picture)
He is the groom!
CAT: Hey -- she's not as stupid as we thought!
LISTER: Why do women always leave me for total smegheads? Why do they
dump me for men who wear turtleneck sweaters and smoke a pipe? I mean,
natural yoghurt eaters! Reliable, sensible, dependable, and lots of
other words that end in "-ible." He's obsessed with house-prices, and
spends half his life in antique fairs looking for bargains and drinking
wine. It's never beer, is it, it's always wine! "What do you want on
your cornflakes, darling?" "Oh, I'll have some wine, please!" Smeg!
He leans against a wall, bitter and angry. CAT taps him on one shoulder.
CAT: You can tell all that, just from a photograph?
HOLLY: Oy, not your pockets! Dear oh dear, It's horrible down there.
There's a big hole. It's an unbelievable view. Reminds me of that
film -- "Attack Of The Killer Gooseberries."
LISTER: Come on, Hol. I'm broken up, man.
HOLLY: I was in love once -- a Sinclair ZX-81. People said, "No, Holly,
she's not for you." She was cheap, she was stupid and she wouldn't load
-- well, not for me, anyway.
LISTER: What are you trying to say, Hol?
HOLLY: What I'm saying, Dave, is that it's better to have loved and to
have lost than to listen to an album by Olivia Newton-John.
CAT: Why's that?
HOLLY: Anything's better than listening to an album by Olivia Newton-
John.
Just then, the door to the Honeymoon Suite opens and KOCHANSKI steps out.
KOCHANSKI: Oh, hi. It's you.
LISTER: (depressed) Oh. Hi.
KOCHANSKI: Come in.
LISTER: (panicky) No, no, we were just passin'.
KOCHANSKI: (amused) Come in.
LISTER: No, no, really, it's okay.
CAT decides to go in anyway.
LISTER: Cat! Come on, We've got to go!
20 Int. Honeymoon suite.
They enter the sumptuous suite. CAT is awed by all this luxury.
CAT: Aooooowww!
KOCHANSKI: I just got married. (showing off her wedding ring)
LISTER: Oh, great.
KOCHANSKI: He's in the shower.
LISTER: Oh.
KOCHANSKI: I think you'll really like him.
LISTER: Oh, I bet.
KOCHANSKI: (pouring cocktails) Do you want a screwdriver?
LISTER: I'd rather have a hammer.
Just then, the door to the shower opens and out steps... LISTER. Older,
bearded as in the photo, wearing a bathrobe, he greets his younger self
with a grin.
FUTURE LISTER: So how ya doin', kid?
LISTER: Smeg.
CAT: (popping up behind FUTURE LISTER and KOCHANSKI) What is this, a
meeting of the ugly convention?
LISTER: Where did you come from?
FUTURE LISTER: The bathroom. (he laughs) Well, you don't look very
pleased to see me.
LISTER: Well, quite frankly, I'm not. I mean, I came here today 'cos I
thought I was going to get married.
KOCHANSKI: And you did.
LISTER: No, he did!
KOCHANSKI: But he's you!
LISTER: No, I'm me.
KOCHANSKI: Well, who's he then?
LISTER: He's him...
CAT: (gesturing with a purloined leg of chicken) He's you and you're him,
and you're him and he's him -- am I still me? Who's eatin' this
chicken? What the hell is going on??
FUTURE LISTER: Look look look, listen: In five years time, you find
another way to come back in time.
LISTER: So it does work out?
KOCHANSKI: Eventually.
LISTER: So how about a frenchie from me future bride?
FUTURE LISTER: No way. On your space-bike.
He grabs LISTER and CAT and herds them towards the door. LISTER stops
him at the door and leans on the door jamb.
LISTER: So, listen. What do I do now?
FUTURE LISTER: Go back to where you came from and wait for five years.
LISTER: Have I always been such a smeg-head? Or did I change?
FUTURE LISTER: You've always been like that. Out.
LISTER: So, listen, man. You've lived my life for the last five years.
So, what's the single most important piece of advice that you can give
me?
FUTURE LISTER: (thinks hard) Erm. Oh, yeah. Three years from now,
you'll go through a cosmic storm and end up in a parallel universe.
You'll materialise on an exact replica of Earth in the year 1989.
You'll want to go to the theatre. Whatever you do, don't go and see
"Run For Your Wife."
He half shoves LISTER and CAT out the door, then leans on it and grins at
his bride.
LISTER: Smeg head.
FUTURE LISTER: (through the door) And you.
CAT holds up a pilferred bottle of wine. They both grin soundlessly.
21 Int. Sleeping quarters. Past.
An orderly wheels in RIMMER, who is strapped into a wheelchair and
dressed in hospital clothing -- a thin gown, socks and a plastic cap.
LISTER, still dressed in his space-suit, is fast asleep on his bunk.
PAST RIMMER: So, they won't come back again?
ORDERLY: Just stay calm, keep cool, and get some sleep.
PAST RIMMER: (seeing LISTER) There he is. Sleeping like a baby. I'm
going to get better, then I'm going to kill him.
The orderly unstraps RIMMER from the chair, then helps him over to his
bed.
ORDERLY: If you need anything, Call Holly.
The orderly leaves. RIMMER sits on the edge of his bunk, thoroughly
depressed. What's about to happen will not alleviate this state.
RIMMER: (VO, muffled) I don't want you to panic, Arnold, but I've had a
jolly good think, and I think I know how to explain this to you.
He sticks his head above the table. His past self stares at him with a
mixture of fear, shock and abject horror.
RIMMER: Hi.
PAST RIMMER: Hi. I'm staying calm this time.
He is not, although fighting valiantly for control.
RIMMER: Good.
Just then CAT and LISTER enter. The past RIMMER does a double take,
looking from the LISTER on the bunk to the one in the doorway.
LISTER: Yo, Rimmer, there you are. I've been looking everywhere.
RIMMER: Not now, Lister.
PAST RIMMER: (very tense) TWO Listers? And a strange man with large
teeth!
CAT: Hey, I'm a cat!
PAST RIMMER: (not a well man) Oh, of course you're a cat! Come in, sit
down, there's plenty of room.
Just then who should drop by but the just-married couple, LISTER and
KOCHANSKI.
FUTURE LISTER: Yo!
PAST RIMMER: (losing it fast) THREE Listers!! Splendid!!! Perhaps Lister
here would like to go over to the fridge and open a bottle of wine for
Lister and Lister!!!! Rimmer here doesn't drink, because he's dead, but
I wouldn't mind a glass!!!!!
VOICE: (RIMMER's voice) I don't want anyone to get into a flap here, but
I'm the RIMMER who's from the double-double future.
He rises from the dresser in the corner and steps forward. He is dressed
in a tux (He has, after all, just been to a wedding), and has a thin
mustache.
FUTURE RIMMER: I'm the Rimmer who's with the Lister who married
Kochanski. Now, from this point on, things get a little bit
confusing...
PAST RIMMER: (the calm before the storm) Please! Before anyone says
anything else, I'd just like to make a little speech. (flipping out
completely) GO AWAAAYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!
Close-up on RIMMER's mouth as he screams, and fade out.
The End
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