RED DWARF Series II Episode 1, "Kryten"
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: As the days go by, we face the increasing
inevitability that we are alone in a godless, uninhabited, hostile and
meaningless universe. Still, you've got to laugh, haven't you?
2 Ext. Nova-5.
The wreckage of the Nova-5, a small ship crashed on a barren moon.
3 Int. Nova-5.
KRYTEN, an android, watches a video monitor on which two silver androids,
KELLY and BROOK speak.
KELLY: Sit down, Brook. There's something I must tell you.
BROOK: What is it, Kelly?
KELLY: I wasn't with Simone that evening, Brook. I spent the night with
Gary.
BROOK: Your ex-husband Gary, my business rival? What are you telling me,
Kelly?
KELLY: I'm saying... Brook, Jr.
BROOK: What about Brook, Jr.?
KELLY: He isn't your android.
The closing credits for the soap opera "Androids" roll by on the screen.
All the characters played by "Android####" with #### being a serial
number.
MONITOR: (Song over credits) "Androids... everybody needs good
androids... androids... have feelings too..."
4 Ext. Red Dwarf. Establishing shot.
5 Int. Sleeping quarters.
LISTER is polishing up his space-bike. RIMMER paces the room and watches
a recording of a woman reciting an Esperanto Instructional tape on the
monitor.
WOMAN: "Mi esporas ke kiam vi venos la vetero estos milda."
RIMMER: Wait a minute, I know this one, don't tell me, don't tell me,
don't tell me!
LISTER: I hope when you come the weather will be clement.
WOMAN: "I hope when you come the weather will be clement."
RIMMER: Lister, don't tell me. I could've got that.
WOMAN: "Bonvolu direkti min al kvinsela hotela?"
RIMMER: Ah... I remember this from last time...
LISTER: Please could you direct me to a five-star hotel?
RIMMER: Wrong, actually. Totally, utterly, and completely wrong.
WOMAN: "Please could you direct me to a five-star hotel?"
RIMMER: Lister, will you please shut up?
LISTER: I'm only helping ya!
RIMMER: Well I don't need any help.
WOMAN: "La mango estis bonega! Dlej korajin gratulonjn' al la kuristo."
RIMMER: (Snaps his fingers) I would like to purchase that orange
inflatable beach ball and that small bucket and spade.
WOMAN: "The meal was splendid! My heartiest congratulations to the
chef."
RIMMER: What? Pause!
LISTER: Rimmer, you've been doing Esperanto for eight years. How come
you're so utterly useless?
RIMMER: Oh, speaks! And how many books have you read in your entire
life? The same number as champion the wonder horse: zero!
LISTER: I've read books.
RIMMER: Uh, Lister, we're not talking about books where the main
character is a dog called "Ben."
LISTER: I went to Art College!
RIMMER: You?
LISTER: Yeah!
RIMMER: How did you get into Art College?
LISTER: The normal way you get into Art College. The same old, usual,
normal, boring you get in. Failed me exams and applied. The snatched
me up.
RIMMER: Ah, but you didn't get a degree, did you?
LISTER: No, I dropped out. I wasn't in long.
RIMMER: How long?
LISTER: 97 minutes. I thought it was going to be a good skive and all
that, you know? But I took one look at the time table and just checked
out, man. I mean, it was ridiculous. They had, they had lectures at,
like, first thing, in the afternoon. We're talking half-past twelve
everyday. Who's together by then? You can still taste the toothpaste.
RIMMER: Well, unlike you, Lister, I have ambitions. I'm not prepared to
sit around all day polishing my space-bike so I can go joyriding
through some asteroid belt. 'Cause I'm not a gimp! And one of my
ambitions is to learn another language so kindly let me get on with it.
(To the monitor) Play.
WOMAN: "La menuo aspektas bowege -- mi provos la kokidajon."
RIMMER: Ah, now this is one I do know.
HOLLY: (Appearing on the screen) The menu looks interesting -- I think
I'll try the chicken.
RIMMER: Holly, as the Esperantinos would say, "Bonvolu alsendi la
pordiston? Lausajne estas rano en mia bideo!" (Thumbs his chin at
HOLLY) And I think we all know what that means.
HOLLY: Yeah, it means, "Could you send for the hall porter? There
appears to be a frog in my bidet."
RIMMER: Is it? Well what's that one about, "Your father was a baboon's
rump and your mother spent most of her life up against walls with
sailors?"
HOLLY: I'm not telling you.
RIMMER: It's because you're bored, isn't it? That's why you're both
annoying me.
HOLLY: I'm not bored. I've had a really busy morning. I've devised a
system to totally revolutionize music.
LISTER: Get out of town!
HOLLY: Yeah, I've decimalized it. Instead of the octave, it's the
decatave. And I've invented two new notes: H and J.
LISTER: Hang on a minute, you can't just invent new notes.
HOLLY: Well I have. Now it goes: (Singing) Do Re Mi Fa So La Wo Bo Ti
Do. Do Ti Bo Wo La So Fa Mi Re Do.
RIMMER: What are you drivelling about?
HOLLY: Holrock. It'll be a whole new sound. All the instruments will be
extra big to incorporate my two new notes. Triangles will have four
sides. Piano keyboards the length of zebra crossings. Course, women
will have to be banned from playing the cello.
LISTER: Holly, shut up.
HOLLY: Oh, I forgot, I haven't told you the news.
RIMMER: What news?
HOLLY: A signal. We're getting a signal. It's probably nothing but I
just thought I'd mention it.
RIMMER: (Snaps his fingers) Aliens!
LISTER: Oh god, aliens? Your explanation for anything slightly peculiar
is aliens, isn't it? You lose your keys -- it's aliens. A picture
falls off the wall -- it's aliens. That time we used up a whole bog
roll in a day -- you thought that was aliens as well.
RIMMER: Well we didn't use it all, Lister. Who did?
LISTER: Rimmer, aliens used our bog roll?
RIMMER: Just 'cause they're aliens doesn't mean to say the don't have to
visit the little boys' room. Only they probably do something weird and
alienesque like it comes out of the top of their heads or something.
LISTER: Well I wouldn't like to be stuck behind one in a cinema.
6 Int. Red Dwarf corridor.
The CAT backs around a corner watching the floor and holding a bat.
CAT: Here, mousie, mousie! I've got some cheese! I only want to be your
friend! (Starts banging around the floor with the bat.)
LISTER and RIMMER stroll up the corridor.
LISTER: Yo, Cat! (The CAT spins around and hides the bat behind his
back.) We're getting a signal. Come on.
RIMMER: (Excitedly) Aliens!
7 Int. Drive room.
Like series 1 but with a better budget. Lots of flashy props and
multiple monitors.
HOLLY: It's a distress call from a ship called the Nova-5. They've
crash-landed. I'm trying to establish contact.
LISTER: Another ship! Brilliant! (Sips from a glass of milk.)
RIMMER: So it's not aliens, then?
HOLLY: No, they're from Earth. I hope they'd got some spare odds and
sods on board. We're a bit short on a few supplies.
LISTER: Like what? (Sips his milk again.)
HOLLY: Cow's milk. Ran out of that yonks ago. Fresh and dehydrated.
LISTER: What kind of milk are we using now? (Sips his milk.)
HOLLY: Emergency back-up supply. We're on the dog's milk.
LISTER: (Staring at the cup) Dog's milk?!
HOLLY: Nothing wrong with dog's milk. Full of goodness, full of
vitamins, full of marrowbone jelly. Lasts longer than any other type
of milk, dog's milk.
LISTER: Why?
HOLLY: No bugger'll drink it. Plus the advantage of dog's milk is when
it goes off it takes exactly the same as when it's fresh.
LISTER: Why didn't you tell me, Holly?!
HOLLY: What, and spoil your tea?
LISTER whimpers and slams his cup down
HOLLY: Hang about, we've got contact.
RIMMER: Punch it up.
KRYTEN: (On the monitor) Thank goodness! My name is Kryten. I'm the
service mechanoid aboard the Nova-5. We've had a terrible accident.
The male officers died on impact. The female officers are injured but
stable. Please help us.
CAT: Is that female as in "soft and squidgy?"
RIMMER: How many?
KRYTEN: Three. Miss Jane, Miss Tracy, and Miss Anne. I am transmitting
medical details.
Pictures of the female officers appear on the screen along with their
name, height, weight, and other statistics, all within the "attractive"
range.
RIMMER: Tell them we're coming aboard. By god, we'll rescue these fair
blooms or my name's not, "Captain A.J. Rimmer, Space Adventurer."
KRYTEN: Thank you, Captain. (Ends transmission.)
LISTER: "Space Adventurer?"
RIMMER: What was I supposed to say? "Fear not, I'm the bloke you used to
clean the gunk out the chicken soup machine! Actually, we know sod all
about space travel but if you've got a blocked nozzle, we're your
lads!?" That'll fill them with confidence, won't it?
LISTER: How far are we away, Hol?
HOLLY: 'bout 24 hours.
CAT: (Jumping up) What?! Only 24 hours?! I better start getting ready.
(Singing) Twenty-four hours... Ahhh!!! First in the shower room! Heh
heh heh! (Dances out then jumps back in.) Hey, I'm so excited all six
of my nipples are tingling! (Dances out.)
LISTER: What's the matter with him? We're on a mission of mercy. We're
taking them urgently needed medical supplies. We're not on the pull!
8 Int. Sleeping quarters.
LISTER is getting dressed. He finds a sock on his bed, smells it, and
discards it. He digs a red sock out the hamper, smells it, then sprays
it with disinfectant, also spraying some under each arm. Then he takes
the sock to the table and whacks it a few times with a hammer and puts it
on. He grabs some black jeans and struggles into them then notices a big
iron-shaped hole in the right buttock. He digs a spray can out of his
locker and sprays black paint over the hole. Looks at himself in the
mirror.
LISTER: God! (Dances around.)
RIMMER walks in wearing a Captain's white dress uniform with medals gold
fringing and epaulet, and a cap under his arm.
RIMMER: (Looking at LISTER) No, we're not "on the pull," are we, Lister?
Look at you. You're absolutely pathetic. You're really trying, aren't
you? You're wearing all your least smeggy things.
LISTER: I don't know what you're talking about.
RIMMER: That t-shirt with only two curry stains on the front of it. You
only wear that on special occasions. You're toffed up to the nines,
laddy!
LISTER: And what about you? You look like Clive of India! Or the one
whose mum does use new biological biz!
RIMMER: Oh! It's started. I knew it would.
LISTER: What has?
RIMMER: The put-downs. It's always the same when we meet girls. Put me
down and make yourself look good.
LISTER: Like when?
RIMMER: Remember those two little brunettes from supplies? And I told
them I worked in stores and they were really interested and asked me
exactly what I did there.
LISTER: And I said you were a shelf.
RIMMER: Exactly! And I suggested a little trip to Titan Zoo and you
said, "Eww! He's taking ya home ta meet his mum already!"
LISTER: So? They laughed!
RIMMER: Yes, at me! At my expense! Just don't put me down when we meet
them.
LISTER: Okay, whatcha want me to say? How do you want me to act?
RIMMER: I don't know. Just act with respect. For a start, don't call me
"Rimmer."
LISTER: Why not?
RIMMER: Because you always put the emphasis on "Rim" in "Rimmer." Makes
me sound like a lavatory disinfectant.
LISTER: Well what do you want me to call you? "Rim-MER?"
RIMMER: I don't know. Um, "Arnie," "Arn," uh, something with a little
more... I don't know. How about "Big Man?"
LISTER: (Sneering) "Big Man?"
RIMMER: Or what about the nickname I had a school?
LISTER: What? "Bonehead?"
RIMMER: How did you know my nickname was "Bonehead?"
LISTER: I was only guessing.
RIMMER: I didn't mean that. I meant the other one.
LISTER: What other one?
RIMMER: "Ace!"
LISTER: Get out of town! Your nickname was never "Ace!" Maybe "Ace-
hole."
RIMMER: It _was_ my nickname at school, actually. It's just, no one ever
called me it despite the many times I let them beat me up.
LISTER: What are you trying to say to me, Rimmer?
RIMMER: I'm trying to say build me up, don't put me down.
LISTER: Like?
RIMMER: Like, if the opportunity occurs and it crops up naturally in
conversation, you could perhaps mention that I'm very brave.
LISTER: Do what?
RIMMER: Don't go ape. Just sort of mention, perhaps, that I died and I
was pretty, incredibly brave about it. Well, I mean, you know, you
could mention hints that I've had tons of girlfriends.
LISTER stares at RIMMER in disbelief.
RIMMER: All right, forget it, it was just an idea. Oh, you're not
wearing those boots, are you?
LISTER: What's wrong with them?
RIMMER: Oh, they just don't go, not with that lot. Uh, you should wear
your Day-Glo orange moon boots.
LISTER: You said they were disgusting.
RIMMER: (Inhales.) Ew, no, very chic.
LISTER: You said they smelled like an orangutan's posing pouch and set
off one of those dangerous chemical alarms. You made me put them in
the air-lock.
RIMMER: No, no. That was a mistake. They really look terrific on you.
I'd wear them.
LISTER: Honest?
RIMMER: Definitely.
9 Int. Nova-5.
KRYTEN bustles about.
KRYTEN: Come along, everybody! They're here! They're in orbit! Miss
Jane!
He walks up to Miss Jane, a bare skeleton in a red wig and clothes,
sitting at a table.
KRYTEN: What a mess you look! (Brushes the wig and applies lipstick to
the skull.) Smart but casual.
KRYTEN turns to another skeleton at the table.
KRYTEN: Miss Anne! Why, you haven't touched your soup! No wonder you're
beginning to look so pasty.
The skeleton falls forward into the bowl of soup. KRYTEN sits it back
up.
KRYTEN: Oh, do eat nicely, Miss Anne! What on Earth will the visitors
think if they see you eating like that? Hmm?
KRYTEN turns to a third skeleton at the table.
KRYTEN: Ah, Miss Tracy. (Prepares to brush its wig, then stops.) No, you
look absolutely perfect.
10 Int. Starbug cockpit.
LISTER sits at the controls with his feet propped up on the panels,
reading a children's book with cardboard pages. Fumes rise off his Day-
Glo orange moon boots. RIMMER stands behind him with a sick look on his
face.
LISTER: What's that smell?
RIMMER: (Strained) I can't smell anything.
LISTER: Are you okay? Your eyes are watering.
RIMMER: It's the excitement. Look, we can't wait for the cat. Let's
just go.
LISTER: Oh, come on, he's been preparing for a day and a night. Don't
you want to see the result?
11 Int. Red Dwarf hangar.
The CAT jumps in wearing a shiny gold spacesuit with humongous lapels and
a carrying an extra-tall gold helmet under his arm.
CAT: Aaaaaoooowww! Wait for me!
12 Int. Starbug cockpit.
CAT enters.
CAT: Aaaaoow! Hi, monkeys! Meet a plastic surgeon's nightmare!
RIMMER: A spacesuit with cufflinks.
LISTER: Where'd ya get the helmet?
CAT: I made it myself. I didn't want to muss up my hair. Hey, listen,
we just gotta make sure we don't pass any mirrors, 'cause if we do, I'm
there for the day. (Makes a face.) Ewww! What's that smell?
HOLLY appears on the monitor, wearing a toupee.
HOLLY: All right, everybody ready? Let's go, then.
LISTER: What are you doing, Hol?
HOLLY: What? What's wrong?
LISTER: The rug, man. Why are you wearing a toupee?
HOLLY: What toupee?
LISTER: The one on your head.
HOLLY: Who's head's that, then?
LISTER: Your head. It makes you look like a game show host.
RIMMER: What's wrong with everyone? Three million years without a woman
and you all act as if you're fourteen years old.
HOLLY: Oh, yeah? What about you and the socks?
LISTER: What socks?
RIMMER: Come on, we can't hang about.
HOLLY: He ordered two pairs of socks.
LISTER: What for?
HOLLY: One pair to put on his feet and the other pair to roll up and put
down his trousers.
RIMMER quickly takes off his cap and lays it in his lap.
13 Int. Nova-5 entryway.
KRYTEN welcomes the boys aboard.
KRYTEN: Come in, come in. How lovely to meet you!
RIMMER: Er, carmita. And what a delightful craft you have. Reminds me
of my first command.
KRYTEN: This way, please.
They all head down the hall. The CAT stops at a full-length mirror on
the wall and looks at himself.
CAT: Hey, you're a work of art, baby!
LISTER: (Gesturing to him) Psst!
CAT: (Trying to leave the mirror but can't) Uh, you're going to have to
help me, man.
LISTER: (Pulling the CAT down the hall) Come on.
CAT: (Still reaching for the mirror) Thank you!
14 Int. Nova-5 corridor.
KRYTEN: I'm so excited. We all are! The girls could scarcely stop
themselves from jumping up and down.
RIMMER: (With a painfully nasal laugh) Ah ha ha. Carmita, carmita!
KRYTEN: Ah! Vi parolas Espekanton, Kapitano Rimmer?
RIMMER: Uh, come again?
KRYTEN: You speak Esperanto, Captain Rimmer?
RIMMER: Oh, si, si, si, jawohl, oiu!
15 Int. Nova-5 large room.
KRYTEN enters the room ahead of the rest.
KRYTEN: (Speaking to the skeletal crew) Well, here they are.
RIMMER: (Enters and bows) Carmita... (Sees the skeletons and stays in his
bow, jaw agape.)
LISTER and the CAT enter and stare at the skeletons.
LISTER: Well... it's a bit difficult to know what to say. Isn't it, Ace?
KRYTEN: Well, isn't anybody going to say, "Hello?"
LISTER: (To RIMMER) I think the blonde one's giving you the eye.
KRYTEN: Well, I'll leave you to get acquainted. I'll just go and fix
some tea. (Exits.)
CAT: (To the skeleton of Tracy) Hi, baby!
RIMMER: I don't believe this.
LISTER: Be strong, Big Man!
RIMMER: Our first contact with intelligent life in three million and two
years and it's the android version of Norman Bates.
CAT: Come on, guys. So they're a little on the skinny side.
LISTER: Listen, girls. I don't know whether this is the time or place to
say this but my mate, Ace, here is incredibly, 'credibly brave!
RIMMER: Smeg off, dog food face!
LISTER: And he's got just tons and tons of girlfriends!
RIMMER: I'm warning you, Lister!
KRYTEN returns with tea and cups on a serving platter.
KRYTEN: (Noticing the silence) Well, is anything the matter?
RIMMER: Anything the matter? They're dead.
KRYTEN: Who's dead?
RIMMER: (Pointing to the skeletons) _They_ are dead. They're all dead.
KRYTEN: My god! Well, I was only away two minutes!
RIMMER: They've been dead for centuries!
KRYTEN: No!
RIMMER: Yes!
KRYTEN: Are you a doctor?
RIMMER: You've only got to look at them. They've got less meat on them
than a Chicken McNugget!
[The "Mc" is edited out of all American broadcasts.]
KRYTEN: Well, what am I going to do? I'm, I'm, I'm programmed to serve
them.
LISTER: I think the first thing we should do is bury them.
KRYTEN: You're that sure they're dead?
RIMMER: (Exasperated) Yes!!
KRYTEN: (Indicating the skeleton of Anne) What about this one?
RIMMER: There's a simple test. (To the skeletons) All right, girls,
hands up, those of you who are alive.
KRYTEN gestures desperately to the skeletons.
KRYTEN: (Lost) Well, what am I going to do??
16 Int. Starbug rear.
KRYTEN, LISTER, RIMMER, and the CAT in the piloting cabin.
KRYTEN: But I can't leave them! Mister David, please! Take me back!
LISTER: Aw, Kryten, you've got to start a new life now.
KRYTEN: I haven't got the software to cope with this. I was created to
serve. I serve, therefore I am. That is my purpose -- to serve and
have no regard for myself.
LISTER: You're beginning to sound like my mum.
KRYTEN: It's all I know.
LISTER: You've got to change, haven't ya? You gotta work out what you
want. Stop being everyone's smeggin' doormat.
KRYTEN: That's easy for you to say, Mister David. You're a human.
RIMMER: Only just.
17 Int. Red Dwarf corridor.
KRYTEN is moping about.
RIMMER: (Walking up to KRYTEN) Ah, Kryten. Nothing to do, eh? Follow
me.
18 Int. Montage sequence.
KRYTEN peels potatoes, irons, looks at a long list, scrubbs the decks,
looks at the list, polishes the scutters, looks at the list, cleans
Holly's screen.
19 Int. Red Dwarf corridor.
LISTER rides his bike down the corridor to the door to his quarters, gets
off and enters. The entire room has been cleaned and redecorated with
lace curtains, pastel wallpaper, and so on. Looks like something you
might find Barbie living in.
LISTER: What the smeggin' hell is going on?
KRYTEN: Good afternoon, Mister David, sir.
LISTER: (Holding up a pair of boxer shorts) What are these?
KRYTEN: Your boxer shorts, Mister David, sir.
LISTER: No way are these my boxer shorts. These bend! What have you
done to the place?
KRYTEN: I've done a spot of tidying up.
LISTER: But where is everything? Where's me coffee cup with the mould in
it?
KRYTEN: I threw it away, sir.
LISTER: But I was breeding that mould. His name was "Albert." I was
trying to get him two foot high.
KRYTEN: Why, sir?
LISTER: Because it drives Rimmer nuts and driving Rimmer nuts is what
keeps me going.
KRYTEN: I'm sorry, Mister David, sir.
LISTER: Look at ya. What are you doing? Why are you doing all this?
KRYTEN: Well, serving makes me happy, sir.
LISTER: But what about you? Don't you ever want to do anything just for
yourself?
KRYTEN: Myself? (Chuckles.) Well, that's a bit of a barmy notion, if you
don't mind my saying so, sir.
LISTER: Come on, there must be something you look forward to.
KRYTEN: "Androids." (Sings and makes mechanical gestures.) "Androids...
everybody needs good androids..."
LISTER: That stupid soap opera? Why?
KRYTEN: Well, because, for half an hour a week, I can forget I'm me.
LISTER: "Androids?" What else?
KRYTEN: Oh, ah, being asleep.
LISTER: "Androids" and being asleep? (Patting him on the back) Sounds
like a crazy, fun-packed life you lead there, Kryten, me old son.
KRYTEN: (Snickers with embarrassment.) I have strange thoughts when I'm
asleep.
LISTER: Yeah, they're called dreams.
KRYTEN: My favorite one is that I'm, I'm in a garden. I've never even
seen a garden except in books. (With a faraway look) And I've planted
everything and made it grow. It's my garden. And there's no one there
except me, just me and all the things I've made live. (Giggles
embarrassedly.) Silly.
LISTER: No, it isn't! Find a planet with an atmosphere and do it.
KRYTEN: I can't. I'm programmed to serve.
LISTER: There's no one _to_ serve, Kryten. That's the point.
KRYTEN: What about Mister Arnold? (Holds up the four foot list of
chores.) I've got to complete Mister Arnold's tasks.
LISTER: (Looking at the list) You what?! Rimmer gave you all this?
KRYTEN: Well, Mister Arnold is my master now.
LISTER: "Mister Arnold" isn't his name. His name's "Rimmer." Or
"Smeghead." Or "Dinosaur Breath" or "Molecule Mind." And on a really
special occasion when you want to be really mega-polite to him, Kryten,
we're talking MEGA-polite, in those exceptional circumstances, you can
call him "Arse-hole."
20 Int. Sleeping quarters.
LISTER is lying in his bunk. The CAT is serving himself some pasta and
sauce from the table. KRYTEN is painting a picture of RIMMER, who is
posing by the window. We can only see the top half of the painting which
shows Rimmer from the chest up in Captain's dress uniform in front of a
bookshelf and red curtains.
CAT: Yeah, yeah, yeah!
RIMMER: I think it will be best on _that_ wall, sort of dominating the
room.
KRYTEN: Yes, Mister Arnold, sir.
LISTER: (Mimicking) "Yes, Mister Arnold, sir." You're a total Gwendolyn,
do you know that, Kryten?
KRYTEN: Oh, yes, Mister David, sir.
LISTER: (Mimicking) "Yes, Mister David, sir."
RIMMER: Leave it alone, Lister. It enjoys doing the task I give. It
makes it happy.
LISTER: Drop dead, Rimmer.
RIMMER: Already have done.
LISTER: Encore!
CAT: You'd never get a cat to be a servant. You ever see a cat return a
stick? (To an imaginary stick-thrower) Hey, man! You threw the stick,
you go get it, yourself! I'm busy! If you wanted the stick so bad,
why'd you throw it away in the first place?
LISTER: Kryten, you never got a thing from those movies I showed you, did
ya?
RIMMER: What movies?
KRYTEN: Mister David was kind enough to take me to see "The Wild Ones,"
"Easy Rider," and "Rebel Without a Cause."
LISTER: I thought it might do him some good. Fat chance! In the middle
of Marlon Brando's rebel speech, _he_ gets out a brush-a-matic and
starts doing me lapels!
RIMMER: Well, now, maybe you'll learn, Lister. There's a natural order
to things in life. Some give orders, others obey. That's the way it's
always been, that's the way it's always going to be. Isn't that true,
Kryten?
KRYTEN: Oh, yes, Mister Arnold, sir.
LISTER: "Yes, Mister Arnold..." What's the point?
KRYTEN: Ah. I've finished, Mister Arnold, sir.
RIMMER: (Walking over to see the painting) Excellent, Kryten!
The painting from the chest down turns out to show Rimmer sitting on a
toilet with his pants down and holding a bog roll.
KRYTEN: I think it's rather good. Don't you, Mister Arnold, sir?
RIMMER: (Through clenched teeth) What are you doing?
KRYTEN: I, um, I think I'm, uh, rebelling.
RIMMER: Rebelling?!
KRYTEN: Yes, I, uh, I, I, I, I _think_ that's what I'm doing.
RIMMER: _You_ are rebelling?
KRYTEN: Mmmm... yes.
RIMMER: What are you rebelling against?
KRYTEN: (Tossing his paint palette on the floor and speaking like Marlon
Brando) Whaddya got? (Struts across the room.) Dinosaur Breath!
(Picks up the pot of pasta sauce.) Molecule Mind! (Splashes the sauce
over Rimmer's bunk.) Smeg-for-brains! (To LISTER) I need your bike.
LISTER: You got it!
KRYTEN: (High-fives the CAT then turns around and shoots Rimmer the
bird.) Swivel on it, punk! (Struts out the door.)
KRYTEN, decked out in metal-studded, leather jacket, cap, and gloves,
climbs onto Lister's space-bike, sticks out his jaw defiantly, and revs
the motor.
The End
Cast:
Arnold J. Rimmer Chris Barrie
Dave Lister Craig Charles
Cat Danny John-Jules
Holly Norman Lovett
Kryten Robert Llewellyn
Written by Bob Grant
Doug Naylor
Music Howard Goodall
Developed for Television by Paul Jackson Productions
Graphic Designer Mark Allen
Visual Effects Designer Peter Wragg
Prop Buyer Mike Fallon
Production Team Helen Campbell
Kate Preston
Assistant Floor Manager Dona Distefano
Production Assistant Ann Zahl
Unit Manager Kelvin Jones
Production Manager Mike Agnew
Costume Designer Jacki Pinks
Make-up Designer Bethan Jones
Vision Mixer Jill Dornan
Camera Supervisor Melvyn Cross
Vision Supervisor Len Greenhalgh
Technical Co-ordinator Andrew Cowley
Videotape Editor Ed Wooden
Lighting Director John Pomphrey
Sound Supervisor Tony Worthington
Designer Paul Montague
Executive Producer Paul Jackson
Producer & Director Ed Bye
A Paul Jackson Production for BBC North West
Guest Cast:
Krtyen David Ross
The Esperanto Woman Johanna Hargreaves
Android Actor Tony Slattery
Thursday, 1 November 2012
Wednesday, 31 October 2012
Series I Episode 6, "Me^2
1 Ext. View of space.
HOLLY: (In space) This is an SOS distress call from the mining ship Red
Dwarf. The crew are dead, killed by a radiation leak. The only
survivors were Dave Lister, who was in suspended animation during the
disaster, and his pregnant cat, who was safely sealed in the hold.
Revived three million years later, Lister's only companions are a life
form who evolved from his cat, and Arnold Rimmer, a hologram simulation
of one of the dead crew.
(Returning) We have enough food to last thirty thousand years but we've
only got one After Eight mint left. And everyone's too polite to take
it.
2 Int. Sleeping quarters.
LISTER is looking over a bookshelf.
LISTER: "Astronavigation and Invisible Numbers and Engineering Structure
Made Simple." That's Rimmer's.
He tosses the book into a trunk and looks back at the shelf.
LISTER: Ah, ha! "The Pop-Up Kama Sutra - Zero Gravity Edition!" That's
mine!
He sticks the book under his pillow, turns back to the shelf, and finds a
video tape.
LISTER: "Arnold J. Rimmer - A Tribute." What's this?
RIMMER: (Walking in) It's a video of my death.
LISTER: You video'd your death?
RIMMER: Holly did it for me.
LISTER: You're very strange, Rimmer.
RIMMER: What's so strange? You have videos of weddings and births.
LISTER: So, what, do you have other people around, give 'em a sherry, and
invite them to watch you snuff it?
RIMMER: Lister, my death is one of the most important things that ever
happened to me. Just stick it in the trunk and shut up.
LISTER: (Tossing the tape into the trunk) Weeeird!
RIMMER: (Pointing to music and sports posters tacked up over LISTER's
bunk) Uh, what about these posters?
LISTER: Woa, they're mine!
RIMMER: I know, but the Blu-Tac is mine.
LISTER: You want to take the Blu-Tac?
RIMMER: Well, it is mine. I did pay for it with my money.
LISTER: Oh, there's one of your old toenail clippings under the bed.
I'll put that in too, shall I?
RIMMER: Ah, Lister, this is one the best decisions I ever made. No more
*you* and your stupid, annoying face. No more *you* and your stupid,
annoying habits.
LISTER: *Me*? What did I do?
RIMMER: You hummed. Maliciously and persistently for two years. Every
time I sat down to do some revision: MMMMmmMMmMmMMMmMMMMMMMmmm--
LISTER: Hang on, hang on. Are you saying you never became an officer
because you shared your quarters with someone who hummed?
RIMMER: Obviously not just that, Lister. Everything! Everything you
ever did was designed to hold me back and annoy me.
LISTER: Like what?
RIMMER: Like using my mother's photograph as an ashtray.
LISTER: I didn't know! I thought it was a souvenir from Titan Zoo.
RIMMER: Exchanging the symbols on my revision timetable so instead of
taking my Engineering Finals, I went swimming.
LISTER: The symbols fell off. I thought I put them back in the right
place.
RIMMER: Swapping my toothpaste for a tube of contraceptive jelly.
LISTER: Come on! That was a joke.
RIMMER: Yes, Lister, the same kind of joke as putting my name down on the
waiting list for experimental pile surgery.
LISTER: It's not only one-way, Rimmer. You're hardly Mr. Nice Guy. Mr.
Easy-To-Live-With.
RIMMER: What are you talking about?
LISTER: I'm talking about playing your self-hypnosis tapes all through
the night. "Learn Esperanto While You Sleep." "Learn Quantum Theory
While You Sleep."
RIMMER: We both got the same benefit.
LISTER: Yeah, neither of us got any sleep. And what about the time you
tied me hair to the bedpost and then sounded the fire alarm?
RIMMER: Lister, I did that because I was sick of you annoying me. I
don't have to explain it.
LISTER: I nearly needed brain surgery!
RIMMER: What brains? The point is you've always stopped me being
successful. That's a scientific fact.
LISTER: Rimmer, you can't blame me for your lousy life.
RIMMER: Oh, yes, I can.
LISTER: See! It's always the same. You never had the right pens for
your G.E. drawing. Your dividers don't stretch far enough.
RIMMER: Well, they don't!
LISTER: See! In the end you can't turn around and say, "I'm sorry I
buggered up my life." It's all Lister's fault!
RIMMER: Well, I'm not, am I? I'm moving out. Out of Slob City and into
Successville.
LISTER: What, you mean next door?
RIMMER: It's not the place, Lister. It's the company. I'm about to
share my life with someone who'll give me encouragement and
understanding. The thrust and parry of meaningful conversation.
Another Rimmer, RIMMER #2, sticks his head in the door.
RIMMER #2: Everything tickety-boo?
RIMMER: Absolutely, Mr. Rimmer. I'll be along lickety-split.
RIMMER #2: Carry on!
RIMMER and RIMMER #2 both give each other a Full-Rimmer salute. RIMMER
#2 leaves.
RIMMER: What a guy! I just don't know why I didn't think if this before.
A duplicate me.
LISTER: Yeah, yeah. (Picks up a painting.) Carry this for ya?
RIMMER: Be very careful with that. It's an antique. It's absolutely
priceless.
LISTER turns the painting round to get a look at and we see that it's one
of those really cheesy cute chimp paintings.
LISTER: (Carrying painting out) Oh, man. (Mockingly) "Tickety-boo."
"Lickety-split." Gawd, meaningful conversation?
LISTER walks along corridor 159 from his door to the door next to it.
LISTER: (Reading the name plaque by the door) "Second Technician Arnold
J. Rimmer and Second Technician Arnold J. Rimmer."
He shakes his head and activates the door opening panel.
LISTER carries the painting into the Rimmers' Sleeping Quarters. The
room is symmetrical with a tidy little bunk on each side of the room, a
desk in the middle, and posters with geometric patterns on the wall.
RIMMER #2: Ah, Lister. Be very careful with that. It's an antique.
Absolutely priceless.
RIMMER: Gosh, I just said that!
RIMMER #2: Did you, really? That's incredible! What a lovely story!
The two Rimmers laugh.
LISTER: (Points to a sign on the wall.) Why have you got "No Smoking"
signs up when neither of you smoke?
RIMMER: Because they're our "No Smoking" signs and we happen to think
they look rather striking.
LISTER: (Spotting newspaper headlines cut out and pasted on the door)
Whoa ho ho! What's all this?! "Arnold's Tops With Us," "I Owe It All
To Rimmer," "Arnie Does It Best." This is very funny stuff.
RIMMER: Uh, just go.
LISTER: Because your name's Arnold Rimmer and even though these headlines
are about other people, you've cut them out and put them on the wall so
people will think they're about you?
RIMMER #2: Shoo, shoo, shoo!
RIMMER: Look, go on, out!
LISTER: This job's going to keep me laughing all through the winter!
RIMMER: Lister, we don't have to take this anymore. We don't have to put
up with your snidey remarks, your total slobbiness, your socks that set
off the sprinkler system.
RIMMER #2: Vacate our new quarters!
LISTER: Bye bye, Rimmer. No, wait. (To RIMMER) Bye bye, (To RIMMER #2)
bye bye, (To both) Rimmer, Rimmer. (Heads out.)
RIMMER: Goit.
3 Int. Corridor 147.
The CAT dances along.
CAT: Oooooowwww!!! Hey, I'm looking so good today! If I looked any
better, I'd be illegal!
He pulls out a megaphone.
CAT: Hello, hello! Testing, testing! One, one, one. Me, me, me!
Attention, all lady cats! I am feeling very, very sexy! Can you hear
me, lady cats?! My body is available! Please form a queue! No
squabbling! This is your lucky day!
4 Int. LISTER's quarters.
LISTER: (Humming) MMMMmmmmmMmmMMMMmmMMMMMMmmMmmmmMMmmm....
lallallanannalalnalaaaa.... Ecstasy! NANANANAANNAAANNAAAA! We're
talking mega-ecstasy bliss! I can hum as loud as I like, as long as I
like. I'm a free man.
He looks at the hamper.
LISTER: And you see those socks? See 'em?
He dumps the hamper out on the floor.
LISTER: They're going right where they belong, all over the floor, where
any self-respecting bachelor would keep 'em. I can have the bottom
bunk, the big bunk!
He hops into the bottom bunk and kicks his feet around joyously. He hops
back out and grabs the shampoo bottle from the sink.
LISTER: I'm gonna leave the top of the shampoo off! I'm going to squeeze
the toothpaste right from the middle! In fact, I'm gonna do all the
things that drove him bonkers! I'm gonna crack me knuckles! I'm gonna
grind me teeth!
He does each one of these things in turn.
LISTER: I'm gonna live for a change! Yeeheeheeheeeeee!!!
He leaps into a hand-stand, landing with his face right near the dirty
socks on the floor.
LISTER: Ugh, smeggin' hell!
He picks up the socks and puts the back in the hamper, coughing.
LISTER: What's this?
He picks up a video tape from the floor.
LISTER: Video of Rimmer's death? Holly, get us some popcorn, put the
video on for us, would ya?
HOLLY: Well, I can just about manage that, I suppose.
LISTER pulls a stool up to the monitor over the sink as a scutter rolls
up with a box of popcorn.
On the monitor the words: "A Tribute to Arnold J. Rimmer, BSc, SSc"
appear, accompanied by dramatic music.
HOLLY: "BSc, SSc?" What's that?
LISTER: Bronze Swimming certificate and Silver Swimming certificate.
He's a total lunatic.
RIMMER: (On the video) Hello. This video pays homage to a man who fell
short of greatness by a gnat's wing. Before we see a digitalised
recording of his final moments, there's going to be a lengthy tribute,
interspersed with poetry readings, read by me.
LISTER: Whoa-ho! Spin on! (The video fast forwards.) Okay, Hol. Put it
in motion. (The video continues.)
RIMMER: (On the video) ...and if it hadn't been for those people who kept
dragging him down, pulling him down, pulling him back...
LISTER: Spin on! (The video fast forwards and continues.)
RIMMER: (On the video) ...if you put Napoleon in quarters with Lister,
he'd still be in Corsica, peeling spuds.
LISTER: (A mite peeved) Spin on! (The video fast forwards and
continues.)
RIMMER: (On the video) ...we see the final moments of Arnold J. Rimmer.
LISTER: Yes!
On the video, Captain HOLLISTER is in the Drive Room yelling at RIMMER
who is standing at attention. A few random officers stand in the back.
HOLLISTER: (On the video to RIMMER) Look, it was your job to fix it,
Rimmer! You can't do sloppy work on the drive plate!
RIMMER: (On the video) I know, sir, and I accept full responsibility for
*any* consequences. (Executes a Full-Rimmer salute.)
A blinding white light glares and everyone is blown across the room by a
tremendous wind.
HOLLY: (On the video) Emergency. There's an emergency going on. It's
still going on. Will Arnold J. Rimmer please hurry to white corridor
159. This is an emergency announcement.
We see RIMMER as he is thrown against a wall, screaming
RIMMER: (On the video) Aaaaaiiiiiiiuuuuurrrrghhhhh... Gazpacho soup.
RIMMER is blown out of shot until only his arm is visible which falls
into the shattered remains of a snow flurry paperweight (echoes of
"Citizen Kane").
LISTER: Off. (The video stops.) Gazpacho soup? Why were his last words,
"gazpacho soup?"
The CAT rolls in on roller skates using a megaphone.
CAT: Attention lady cats! Sensual emergency! Good lovin' needed bad!
(Spins around.) Ooooooowwww! (To LISTER) Hey, no girls here? What a
waste of a good move! It's a shame. I'm looking so dangerous, too!
Wow! Yeah! yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
LISTER: Cat, what are you doing?
CAT: (Gentlemanly) I'm courting.
LISTER: Courting who?
CAT: Whoever shows up.
LISTER: I told you before. There's no other cats on board.
CAT: If I believed that for one minute, I'd go crazy! (Dancing out)
Oooooowwww! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
5 Model Shot.
Red Dwarf.
RIMMER #2: (VO) Up, up, up! Stretch, stretch, stretch!
6 Int. RIMMERS' quarters.
The two Rimmers are exercising by squatting then leaping high into the
air, throwing their arms above them. Looks like over-exuberant jumping
jacks.
RIMMER #2: Stretch further!
RIMMER: (Stopping) And rest.
RIMMER #2: (Still jumping) No! Keep jumping!
RIMMER: (Jumping some more) Absolutely. Keep on going. Through the pain
barrier.
RIMMER #2: Jump, jump, jump!
RIMMER: (Stopping again) And rest.
RIMMER #2: (Still jumping) What are you doing, man?!
RIMMER: I'm resting! It's going all gray!
RIMMER #2: That's the pain barrier! Beat it!
RIMMER: (Jumping awkwardly) You're right. You're absolutely right. Keep
it going.
RIMMER #2: (Stopping) And rest.
RIMMER: (Collapsing) Brilliant! That extra little bit. That's what it's
all about.
RIMMER #2: What time do we get up?
RIMMER: Oh, early! Half past eight.
RIMMER #2: No, earlier than that. Seven.
RIMMER: How 'bout six?
RIMMER #2: No, half past four.
RIMMER: That's the middle of the night!
RIMMER #2: You wanted driving. I'm driving you.
RIMMER: Once again, Arnold, you're absolutely right. Holly, alarm call
four-thirty in the morning. Make it the sonic boom, extra loud,
emergency one.
HOLLY: Yes, Arnold. And Arnold.
RIMMER starts to crawl into bed
RIMMER #2: Uh, what are you doing, Arnold?
RIMMER: I'm going to bed, Arnold.
RIMMER #2: But it's two in the morning! We can get in a couple hours of
revision easily.
RIMMER: But I'm getting up in a minute.
RIMMER #2: You take Power Circuits and Esperanto. I'll take Thermal
Energy and the History of Philosophy.
RIMMER: (Getting up) Fantastic! This is what I've always dreamed of!
I'm in heaven!
RIMMER #2: Better than sex.
7 Model shot.
View of Red Dwarf from space.
HOLLY: (VO) It is four-thirty. Here is your early-morning alarm call.
A huge blast made of warbles, barks, whistles, and sirens shakes the
ship.
8 Int. Corridor 149, outside LISTER'S quarters.
RIMMER is directing the scutters in painting the walls.
RIMMER: (To the scutters) That's the way. Smooth and even. Up and down.
LISTER walks out of his quarters.
RIMMER: Ah, Lister. Bonnen Maitenon. Didn't wake you, I trust?
LISTER: No, I haven't been to bed yet.
RIMMER: But it's five past five in the morning. It's practically
lunchtime.
LISTER: (Noticing the scutters are doing) What are you doing?
RIMMER: It's called "work," Lister. I didn't think you'd recognize it.
W-O-R-K. It is in the dictionary. (To the scutters) Come on, paint!
Paint, paint, paint!
LISTER: But why are they painting the color the same color it was before?
RIMMER: They're changing it from Ocean Gray to Military Gray. Something
that should've been done a long time ago.
LISTER: Looks exactly the same to me.
RIMMER: No. No, no, no. (Points to a section of a wall.) That's the new
Military Gray bit there, and that's the dowdy, old, nasty Ocean Gray
bit there.
The two bits look identical.
RIMMER: Or is it the other way 'round?
LISTER: It doesn't matter, Rimmer. It very nice. So how's Mrs. Rimmer?
RIMMER: (Sneering) Tee hee, hoddle, ha. Why don't you just get back into
your cesspit or you won't have the energy for a full day's slob.
LISTER: I just wondered what you talked about and that, you know.
RIMMER: Millions of things, Lister. Apart from being a complete genius,
that man happens to be a total delight. Has me in stitches all the
time.
LISTER: What? I mean, he knows everything you know and you know
everything he knows. So what do you talk about?
RIMMER: We reminisce, chew over old times, past glories, old girlfriends.
LISTER: Oh, you mean Yvonne MacGruder?
RIMMER: Don't say Yvonne MacGruder as if she's the only one.
LISTER: Oh, go on, then. Name one other girlfriend, then.
RIMMER: Lister, I'm far, far, far too much of a gentleman to stoop to
that kind of shower-room mentality. All you need to know about Yvonne
MacGruder is: I gave her one!
He makes a fist and punches his arm into the air, grabbing his bicep with
his other hand, in the age-old boinking gesture.
LISTER: Fine, Rimmer, fine. That's very nice. Very, very nice. So, um,
what's "gazpacho soup?"
RIMMER: (Dumbstruck) What?
LISTER: It's just that they were your last words and I wondered why.
RIMMER: You've been watching my death video, haven't you?! That's
private! It's for my enjoyment only!
LISTER: It just seemed like such a strange thing to say. "Gazpacho
soup."
RIMMER: Well, I'm sorry I didn't have time to sit down and bash out a
speech in iambic pentameter. I was hit in the face by an atomic
explosion.
LISTER: But why "gazpacho soup?"
RIMMER: That, Lister, is something that you will never ever know.
HOLLY: Arnold, you asked me to remind you when it was time for your
Esperanto revision.
RIMMER: Thank you, Holly. (To the scutters) You two, carry on.
9 Int. RIMMERS' quarters.
LISTER sneaks in. No sign of the Rimmers. LISTER goes over to the
bookshelf on the desk.
LISTER: (Pulling a large book from the shelf) "A to Z of Red Dwarf!" Ha,
ha, ha-ha!
Opens the book and finds a smaller book hidden in a hole cut into the
book.
LISTER: I thought so!
LISTER puts the dictionary back and reads the small book.
LISTER: "My Diary, by Arnold J. Rimmer. January the first: I have
decided to keep a journal of my thoughts and deeds over the coming
year. A daily chart of my progress through the echelons of command, so
that perhaps one day, other aspiring officers may seek enlightenment
through these pages. It is my fond hope that, one day, this journal
will take its place alongside `Napoleon's War Diaries' and `The
Memories of Julius Caesar'." Next entry... (Flips ahead.)
"July the seventeenth: Auntie Maggie's Birthday." (Flips ahead.)
"November the twenty-fifth: Gazpacho Soup day!" That's six weeks
before the crew got wiped out.
The closet door opens and the CAT climbs out.
CAT: Heh. He won't find *that* one. Heh, heh! Not until he changes his
boots. Heh, heh! (Sees LISTER) OH!
CAT holds a hand up to hide his face and he heads for the door.
CAT: Did you see him clearly? Could you spot him in a parade? I don't
think so. I could've been anybody. (Leaves.)
10 Int. LISTER'S quarters.
LISTER is blowing a large bubble with bubble gum. Once he's satisfied,
he holds up a spanner and ruler to measure it, then pulls the gum out his
mouth with the bubble intact and still attached.
LISTER: Ten and three-quarter centimeters! Plus five for not breaking
and that is a big, big score! The Brown's are going to have to do
something quite sensational with their last bubble. Quite clearly.
(Puts new gum in his mouth.)
HOLLY: Busy, Dave?
LISTER spits his gum across the room in surprise.
LISTER: Well, yeah, I am, actually!
HOLLY: Oh. Then you won't want to know about the two super-lightspeed
fighters that are tracking us.
LISTER: What?!
HOLLY: I'll leave you to your bubble blowing, mate.
LISTER: No, Holly. Hol. Come on.
HOLLY: They're from Earth.
LISTER: That's three million years away.
HOLLY: They're from the NorWEB Federation.
LISTER: What's that?
HOLLY: NorthWestern Electricity Board. They want you, Dave.
LISTER: Me? Why? What for?
HOLLY: For your crimes against humanity.
LISTER: You what?!
HOLLY: Seems when you left Earth, three million years ago, you left two
half-eaten German sausages on a plate in your kitchen.
LISTER: Did I?
HOLLY: You know what happens to sausages left unattended for three
million years?
LISTER: Yeah, they go mouldy.
HOLLY: Your sausages, Dave, now cover seven-eighths of the Earth's
surface. Also, you left seventeen pounds, fifty pence in your bank
account. Thanks to compound interest you now own 98% of all the
world's wealth. And because you hoarded it for three million years,
nobody's got any money except for you and NorWEB.
LISTER: Why NorWEB?
HOLLY: You left a light on in the bathroom. I've got a final demand here
for one hundred and eighty billion pounds.
LISTER: A hundred and eighty billion pounds?!! You're kidding!
HOLLY: (Wearing a Grouch-Marx glasses-nose-and-moustache) April Fool.
LISTER: But it's not April!
HOLLY: Yeah, I know. But I can't be waiting six months with a red-hot
jape like that underneath me hat.
LISTER: So you just made it all up, then?
HOLLY: Yeah. Bit of excitement for a while, wasn't it? You can't beat a
good wheeze. Huhu!
LISTER: I don't need a good wheeze. You can do your own excitement for
yourself.
HOLLY: No, you can't. You haven't got a clue. You're useless.
LISTER: (Hearing the two Rimmers through the wall) Shhhhh!
RIMMER #2: (Through the wall) ....shut up!
RIMMER: (Through the wall) I make you vomit?
LISTER: (To HOLLY) What's that?
RIMMER #2: (Through the wall) Keep your voice down!
11 Int. RIMMERS' quarters.
RIMMER #2 is in bed. RIMMER stand facing him.
RIMMER: (Hurt) I'm not gonna stand here and take this abuse.
RIMMER #2: (Sneering) Oh, yes, when the going gets tough, the tough go
and have a little cry in the corner. You got a sponge for a backbone!
No wonder father hated you!
RIMMER: That's a lie! A lie, lie, lie, lie, lie!
RIMMER #2: Then why didn't he send you to the academy?
RIMMER: He couldn't afford it!
RIMMER #2: Oh! He sent all our brothers!
RIMMER: You're a filthy, smegging, lying, smegging liar!
RIMMER #2: Face facts, man, nobody likes you! Not even Mummy!
RIMMER: (Almost crying) Mummy *did* like me! Mummy was just busy. She
had a lot of meetings to go to.
RIMMER #2: Twattle!
RIMMER: You better watch what you say about my mummy! I'm a grown man
and I'm not going to accept it.
RIMMER #2: (Shouting) Oh, grow up, Mr. Gazpacho!!
RIMMER: (Quietly) Mister what?
RIMMER #2: (Shouting) I ... SAID ... MISTER ... GAZ ... PAAAACHO,
DEAFIE!!!
RIMMER: (Crying) That is the most obscenely hurtful thing.
RIMMER #2: (Shouting) GOOD!
12 Int. LISTER'S quarters.
LISTER is standing at the door, trying to listen to the Rimmers.
RIMMER: (From his quarters) That is the straw that broke the dromedary,
that is. You're finished, Rimmer.
RIMMER #2: (Snarling from his quarters) No, YOU'RE finished, Rimmer!
LISTER sees RIMMER leave his own quarters. LISTER runs back to the top
bunk and pretends he was reading a book. RIMMER walks in sadly.
RIMMER: Ah, Lister... How are you?
LISTER: I'm tickety-boo. What d'ya want?
RIMMER: I don't suppose you've managed to get that Blu-Tac together for
me, have you?
LISTER: Rimmer, it's three A.M.!
RIMMER: It doesn't matter. It can wait til the morning. (Heads for the
bottom bunk.) I'm just gonna sleep here, okay? So, when you're ready.
LISTER: Everything all right, is it?
RIMMER: Sure! Absolutely. Yeah, sure.
LISTER: No problems, then?
RIMMER: No! No, no. Things couldn't be hunky-dorier.
LISTER: It's just I thought I heard, you know, um, raised voices?
RIMMER: Heh. It's quite an amusing thought, isn't it? Having a... a
blazing row with yourself.
RIMMER #2: (Shouting in Rimmer's Quarters) HIT THE WALL! GO ON! HIT THE
WALL! GO ON! YEAH! YEAH!
We see RIMMER #2 is directing the scutters to hit the adjoining wall for
him.
RIMMER #2: (Shouting through the wall) CAN YOU SHUT UP, RIMMER?! SOME OF
US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!
RIMMER: (To LISTER) Obviously, we have professional disagreements. But,
I mean, nothing with any side to it. Nothing malicious.
RIMMER #2: (Shouting through the wall) SHUT UP, YA DEAD GIT!
RIMMER: (Getting up) Excuse me a second, Lister, will you?
He walks calmly to the door.
RIMMER: STOP YOUR FOUL WHINING, YA FILTHY PIECE OF DISTENDED RECTUM!!!
He calmly turns back.
RIMMER: Lister, there's no point in concealing it anymore. Rimmer and
me, we've had a bit of a tiff. Nothing major. But it goes without
saying, IT WAS HIS FAULT!
13 Model shot.
Red Dwarf in space.
14 Int. Cinema.
The CAT and LISTER are sitting together. LISTER has a cigarette,
popcorn, a soda, and other mystery foods.
ANNOUNCER: (On the screen) Fired from Earth? Deep into the heart of the
Solar System? And you fancy a curry? Then why not drop in at the
Titan Taj Mahal Indian Restaurant! Enjoy the finest Tandori Cuisine at
one-fifth gravity! Just a short space-walk from this cinema!
CAT: (To LISTER) Shut up!
LISTER: Look, will you stop doing that?
CAT: I'm trying to watch the film!
LISTER: I'm only eatin'!
CAT: No. Eatin's when the food goes in your mouth!
RIMMER #2: (Walking in) Morning.
LISTER: Yeah.
RIMMER #2: (Sitting beside LISTER) What's on?
LISTER: Orson Welles, "Citizen Kane."
RIMMER #2: Uh, there's no smoking on this side. You should be sitting
over there.
LISTER: Nobody's complaining.
RIMMER #2: Yes, they are! I am. So would you kindly move to the proper
designated smoking area for the convenience of other patrons?
LISTER blows smoke in RIMMER #2's face.
LISTER: I thought you hated films.
RIMMER #2: No, it's for the film course at night school. "Citizen Kane,"
hmmm? That's Orson Welles, is it?
We see that the film is a cartoon with a large cat firing a machine gun.
RIMMER #2: Ah, that's "Citizen Kane," allright! Unmistakable.
LISTER: Why are you here? Where's your wife?
RIMMER #2: Don't ask me. He's nothing to do with me, anymore. Last time
I saw him, he was redoing my paint work. Changing it from Military
Gray back to Ocean Gray. He's quite, quite mad!
RIMMER: (Walking in) Lister. Cat. (Sits directly in front of RIMMER
#2.)
RIMMER #2: (To RIMMER) Excuse me, I can't see.
RIMMER: (To RIMMER #2) Shhh.
RIMMER #2: (To RIMMER) Excuse me, I can't see through the back of your
stupid, curly-haired, sticky-outy-eared head.
LISTER: I'm trying to watch the film!
CAT: Yeah!
RIMMER #2: (To RIMMER) Move!
RIMMER: Look, I just happened to choose a seat at random. If you're
unhappy with your seat, I suggest you move.
RIMMER #2: Right. (Stands up.) Now, where shall I sit? Over here or
over there? Ummmm... no, that's a nice seat! (Sits directly in front
of RIMMER #2.)
RIMMER: Look at this, Mr. Maturity.
After a moment he stands up and sits in front of RIMMER #2 in the front
row.
LISTER: Will you two guys just grow up?
RIMMER #2: Two? I think there's just one immature person around here and
we all know who it is.
RIMMER #2 and RIMMER point at each other.
A shadow of a RIMMER #2's hand as a shadow puppet comes up on the screen.
RIMMER #2: (As the shadow puppet) Hello. What do you think of Arnold
Rimmer? Phbbbttt! Phbbbttt! Phbbbttt! Phbbbttt! Phbbbttt!
LISTER: (Standing up) This can't go on. One of you's is gotta go.
RIMMER: (Pointing at each other) Yes, him.
RIMMER #2: Look, it's crystal smegging clear which one of us has gotta
go.
RIMMER: Yes, you! Look, I was here first. I nursed Listie through those
early, delicate days!
RIMMER #2: Look, we are identical. We're exactly the same person. Only
you're mentally unstable.
LISTER decides to use a rhyme similar to "one-potato, two-potato" to
choose between the two Rimmers.
LISTER: Ippy-dippy, my space shippy, on a course so true, past Neptune
and Pluto's moon, the one I choose is you.
He ends pointing to RIMMER.
RIMMER #2: Excellent! Excellent decision, Listie! Turn him off.
RIMMER: And the one you end on is the one who stays, yes?
LISTER: (Firmly to RIMMER) It's you, Rimmer.
RIMMER: Wait a minute. Just wait a minute. Hold your horses. Hang on.
LISTER: It's your own fault, Rimmer. If you'd've given me Kochanski's
hologram, none of this would've happened. You made the bed, you lie in
it. Drive Room. Ten minutes.
RIMMER #2: Drive Room. Five minutes.
RIMMER: I don't believe it. I've been ippy-dippied to death.
15 Int. Drive room.
LISTER, the CAT, and RIMMER #2 are in the Drive Room.
LISTER: (To RIMMER #2) I want you out.
RIMMER #2: What have I said?
LISTER: Just out!
RIMMER #2: There's precious little entertainment on this ship. I mean,
if you can't attend the odd execution, what have you got left?
LISTER: Out! Go on!
As RIMMER #2 leaves, he passes RIMMER who is in full dress uniform.
RIMMER #2: (To RIMMER) Phbbbttt!!!! Don't forget to write, ya great
nancy! (Leaves.)
RIMMER: Lister.
LISTER: Fancy a drink?
RIMMER shakes his head no. LISTER notices the four medals on RIMMER's
jacket.
LISTER: Ooooh! I didn't know you had any medals! What are they?
RIMMER: (Pointing to each one) Three Year Long Service, Six Years Long
Service, Nine Years Long Service, (pausing to remember) Twelve Years
Long Service.
LISTER: Come on, just one drink.
RIMMER: I'll have a whiskey.
LISTER: Holly, give 'em a whiskey.
HOLLY: How would you like it?
RIMMER: Straight. With ice and lemonade, a cherry and a slice of lemon.
(RIMMER flinches as he experiences the invisible drink.)
LISTER: Another? (RIMMER nods. He flinches.)
RIMMER: And another. (Flinches.) And another. Make it a double.
(Flinches.)
LISTER: So, um, what's all this gazpacho soup business? What's it all
about?
LISTER sits down for the story.
RIMMER: I suppose now I'm doomed, I can tell you. Gazpacho soup. It was
the greatest night of my life. I'd been invited to the Captain's
Table. I'd only been with the company fourteen years. Six officers
and me! They called me "Arnold." We had gazpacho soup for starters. I
didn't know gazpacho soup was meant to be served cold. I called over
the chef and I told him to take it away and bring it back hot. He did!
The looks on their faces still haunt me today!!
(Crying) I thought they were laughing at the chef, when all the time,
they were laughing at me as I ate my piping hot gazpacho soup! I never
ate at the Captain's Table again. That was the end of my career.
LISTER: Oh, come on. Anyone could've made that mistake.
RIMMER: If only they'd've mentioned it in Basic Training! Instead of
climbing up and down ropes and crawling on your elbows through tunnels.
(Shouting) If only, just once, they'd said, "Gazpacho soup is served
cold!" I could've been an admiral by now! (Quietly) Instead of a
nothing which is what I am, let's face it.
LISTER: Aw, come one. You're not a nothing.
CAT: He is.
RIMMER: (To the CAT) You're right!
CAT: I know I'm right.
RIMMER: I never got off the bottom rung. And do you know why? Because I
didn't have the right nobby parents. I bet Todhunter was fed gazpacho
soup the moment he was on solids. No, I bet he was breast-fed with it.
One side gazpacho soup and the other side freely dispensing chilled
champagne! Phbbbbttttt.....!
CAT: (Angry) Is this gonna go on all day? I thought he was gonna get
wiped!
RIMMER: Yes, go on. Turn me off. Go on. Turn me off. Get rid of me.
LISTER: I've already done it. I wiped the other one. (Grins.)
CAT: (Laughs.)
RIMMER: What?! You wiped... When??!!
LISTER: Just before you came in.
RIMMER: And you let me stand here and bare my soul?
LISTER: (Grinning) Yeah. You see, I wanted to find out about gazpacho
soup and I knew you wouldn't tell me.
RIMMER: Well, of course, I wouldn't tell you. You'd make my life a hell
with gazpacho soup jokes for the rest of my life!
LISTER: Rimmer, I promise -- I *swear* -- I will never, ever mention this
conversation again. And when I swear, I mean it.
LISTER stands up.
RIMMER: You promise?
LISTER: I promise. (Crosses himself and makes a Boy Scout salute.)
RIMMER: Do you swear absolutely?
LISTER: I swear absolutely that I promise that I will never mention
gazpacho soup again! (Again crosses himself and makes a Boy Scout
salute.)
RIMMER: Allright. You're a bit of a slob, Lister, you know, but, when it
comes down to it, you keep your word. This time I'm gonna believe you.
Let's go for another drink.
RIMMER, LISTER, and CAT head out the door.
LISTER: Souper!
RIMMER glares at him.
Credits:
Rimmer Chris Barrie
Lister Craig Charles
Cat Danny John-Jules
Holly Norman Lovett
Captain Mac McDonald
Written by Bob Grant
Doug Naylor
Music Howard Goodall
Developed for Television by Paul Jackson Productions
Graphic Designer Mark Allen
Visual Effects Designer Peter Wragg
Prop Buyer Mike Fallon
Assistant Floor Manager Dona Distefano
Production Assistant Alison Thornber
Unit Manager Mario Dubois
Production Manager George R. Clarke
Costume Designer Jacki Pinks
Costume Assistant Lesley Staves
Make-up Designer Suzanne Jansen
Vision Mixer Jill Dornan
Camera Supervisor Mike Jackson
Technical Co-ordinator John Spicer
Videotape Editor Ed Wooden
Lighting Director John Pomphrey
Sound Tony Worthington
Alan Machin
Wendy Rath
Designer Paul Montague
Executive Producer Paul Jackson
Producer & Director Ed Bye
MCMLXXXVII
HOLLY: (In space) This is an SOS distress call from the mining ship Red
Dwarf. The crew are dead, killed by a radiation leak. The only
survivors were Dave Lister, who was in suspended animation during the
disaster, and his pregnant cat, who was safely sealed in the hold.
Revived three million years later, Lister's only companions are a life
form who evolved from his cat, and Arnold Rimmer, a hologram simulation
of one of the dead crew.
(Returning) We have enough food to last thirty thousand years but we've
only got one After Eight mint left. And everyone's too polite to take
it.
2 Int. Sleeping quarters.
LISTER is looking over a bookshelf.
LISTER: "Astronavigation and Invisible Numbers and Engineering Structure
Made Simple." That's Rimmer's.
He tosses the book into a trunk and looks back at the shelf.
LISTER: Ah, ha! "The Pop-Up Kama Sutra - Zero Gravity Edition!" That's
mine!
He sticks the book under his pillow, turns back to the shelf, and finds a
video tape.
LISTER: "Arnold J. Rimmer - A Tribute." What's this?
RIMMER: (Walking in) It's a video of my death.
LISTER: You video'd your death?
RIMMER: Holly did it for me.
LISTER: You're very strange, Rimmer.
RIMMER: What's so strange? You have videos of weddings and births.
LISTER: So, what, do you have other people around, give 'em a sherry, and
invite them to watch you snuff it?
RIMMER: Lister, my death is one of the most important things that ever
happened to me. Just stick it in the trunk and shut up.
LISTER: (Tossing the tape into the trunk) Weeeird!
RIMMER: (Pointing to music and sports posters tacked up over LISTER's
bunk) Uh, what about these posters?
LISTER: Woa, they're mine!
RIMMER: I know, but the Blu-Tac is mine.
LISTER: You want to take the Blu-Tac?
RIMMER: Well, it is mine. I did pay for it with my money.
LISTER: Oh, there's one of your old toenail clippings under the bed.
I'll put that in too, shall I?
RIMMER: Ah, Lister, this is one the best decisions I ever made. No more
*you* and your stupid, annoying face. No more *you* and your stupid,
annoying habits.
LISTER: *Me*? What did I do?
RIMMER: You hummed. Maliciously and persistently for two years. Every
time I sat down to do some revision: MMMMmmMMmMmMMMmMMMMMMMmmm--
LISTER: Hang on, hang on. Are you saying you never became an officer
because you shared your quarters with someone who hummed?
RIMMER: Obviously not just that, Lister. Everything! Everything you
ever did was designed to hold me back and annoy me.
LISTER: Like what?
RIMMER: Like using my mother's photograph as an ashtray.
LISTER: I didn't know! I thought it was a souvenir from Titan Zoo.
RIMMER: Exchanging the symbols on my revision timetable so instead of
taking my Engineering Finals, I went swimming.
LISTER: The symbols fell off. I thought I put them back in the right
place.
RIMMER: Swapping my toothpaste for a tube of contraceptive jelly.
LISTER: Come on! That was a joke.
RIMMER: Yes, Lister, the same kind of joke as putting my name down on the
waiting list for experimental pile surgery.
LISTER: It's not only one-way, Rimmer. You're hardly Mr. Nice Guy. Mr.
Easy-To-Live-With.
RIMMER: What are you talking about?
LISTER: I'm talking about playing your self-hypnosis tapes all through
the night. "Learn Esperanto While You Sleep." "Learn Quantum Theory
While You Sleep."
RIMMER: We both got the same benefit.
LISTER: Yeah, neither of us got any sleep. And what about the time you
tied me hair to the bedpost and then sounded the fire alarm?
RIMMER: Lister, I did that because I was sick of you annoying me. I
don't have to explain it.
LISTER: I nearly needed brain surgery!
RIMMER: What brains? The point is you've always stopped me being
successful. That's a scientific fact.
LISTER: Rimmer, you can't blame me for your lousy life.
RIMMER: Oh, yes, I can.
LISTER: See! It's always the same. You never had the right pens for
your G.E. drawing. Your dividers don't stretch far enough.
RIMMER: Well, they don't!
LISTER: See! In the end you can't turn around and say, "I'm sorry I
buggered up my life." It's all Lister's fault!
RIMMER: Well, I'm not, am I? I'm moving out. Out of Slob City and into
Successville.
LISTER: What, you mean next door?
RIMMER: It's not the place, Lister. It's the company. I'm about to
share my life with someone who'll give me encouragement and
understanding. The thrust and parry of meaningful conversation.
Another Rimmer, RIMMER #2, sticks his head in the door.
RIMMER #2: Everything tickety-boo?
RIMMER: Absolutely, Mr. Rimmer. I'll be along lickety-split.
RIMMER #2: Carry on!
RIMMER and RIMMER #2 both give each other a Full-Rimmer salute. RIMMER
#2 leaves.
RIMMER: What a guy! I just don't know why I didn't think if this before.
A duplicate me.
LISTER: Yeah, yeah. (Picks up a painting.) Carry this for ya?
RIMMER: Be very careful with that. It's an antique. It's absolutely
priceless.
LISTER turns the painting round to get a look at and we see that it's one
of those really cheesy cute chimp paintings.
LISTER: (Carrying painting out) Oh, man. (Mockingly) "Tickety-boo."
"Lickety-split." Gawd, meaningful conversation?
LISTER walks along corridor 159 from his door to the door next to it.
LISTER: (Reading the name plaque by the door) "Second Technician Arnold
J. Rimmer and Second Technician Arnold J. Rimmer."
He shakes his head and activates the door opening panel.
LISTER carries the painting into the Rimmers' Sleeping Quarters. The
room is symmetrical with a tidy little bunk on each side of the room, a
desk in the middle, and posters with geometric patterns on the wall.
RIMMER #2: Ah, Lister. Be very careful with that. It's an antique.
Absolutely priceless.
RIMMER: Gosh, I just said that!
RIMMER #2: Did you, really? That's incredible! What a lovely story!
The two Rimmers laugh.
LISTER: (Points to a sign on the wall.) Why have you got "No Smoking"
signs up when neither of you smoke?
RIMMER: Because they're our "No Smoking" signs and we happen to think
they look rather striking.
LISTER: (Spotting newspaper headlines cut out and pasted on the door)
Whoa ho ho! What's all this?! "Arnold's Tops With Us," "I Owe It All
To Rimmer," "Arnie Does It Best." This is very funny stuff.
RIMMER: Uh, just go.
LISTER: Because your name's Arnold Rimmer and even though these headlines
are about other people, you've cut them out and put them on the wall so
people will think they're about you?
RIMMER #2: Shoo, shoo, shoo!
RIMMER: Look, go on, out!
LISTER: This job's going to keep me laughing all through the winter!
RIMMER: Lister, we don't have to take this anymore. We don't have to put
up with your snidey remarks, your total slobbiness, your socks that set
off the sprinkler system.
RIMMER #2: Vacate our new quarters!
LISTER: Bye bye, Rimmer. No, wait. (To RIMMER) Bye bye, (To RIMMER #2)
bye bye, (To both) Rimmer, Rimmer. (Heads out.)
RIMMER: Goit.
3 Int. Corridor 147.
The CAT dances along.
CAT: Oooooowwww!!! Hey, I'm looking so good today! If I looked any
better, I'd be illegal!
He pulls out a megaphone.
CAT: Hello, hello! Testing, testing! One, one, one. Me, me, me!
Attention, all lady cats! I am feeling very, very sexy! Can you hear
me, lady cats?! My body is available! Please form a queue! No
squabbling! This is your lucky day!
4 Int. LISTER's quarters.
LISTER: (Humming) MMMMmmmmmMmmMMMMmmMMMMMMmmMmmmmMMmmm....
lallallanannalalnalaaaa.... Ecstasy! NANANANAANNAAANNAAAA! We're
talking mega-ecstasy bliss! I can hum as loud as I like, as long as I
like. I'm a free man.
He looks at the hamper.
LISTER: And you see those socks? See 'em?
He dumps the hamper out on the floor.
LISTER: They're going right where they belong, all over the floor, where
any self-respecting bachelor would keep 'em. I can have the bottom
bunk, the big bunk!
He hops into the bottom bunk and kicks his feet around joyously. He hops
back out and grabs the shampoo bottle from the sink.
LISTER: I'm gonna leave the top of the shampoo off! I'm going to squeeze
the toothpaste right from the middle! In fact, I'm gonna do all the
things that drove him bonkers! I'm gonna crack me knuckles! I'm gonna
grind me teeth!
He does each one of these things in turn.
LISTER: I'm gonna live for a change! Yeeheeheeheeeeee!!!
He leaps into a hand-stand, landing with his face right near the dirty
socks on the floor.
LISTER: Ugh, smeggin' hell!
He picks up the socks and puts the back in the hamper, coughing.
LISTER: What's this?
He picks up a video tape from the floor.
LISTER: Video of Rimmer's death? Holly, get us some popcorn, put the
video on for us, would ya?
HOLLY: Well, I can just about manage that, I suppose.
LISTER pulls a stool up to the monitor over the sink as a scutter rolls
up with a box of popcorn.
On the monitor the words: "A Tribute to Arnold J. Rimmer, BSc, SSc"
appear, accompanied by dramatic music.
HOLLY: "BSc, SSc?" What's that?
LISTER: Bronze Swimming certificate and Silver Swimming certificate.
He's a total lunatic.
RIMMER: (On the video) Hello. This video pays homage to a man who fell
short of greatness by a gnat's wing. Before we see a digitalised
recording of his final moments, there's going to be a lengthy tribute,
interspersed with poetry readings, read by me.
LISTER: Whoa-ho! Spin on! (The video fast forwards.) Okay, Hol. Put it
in motion. (The video continues.)
RIMMER: (On the video) ...and if it hadn't been for those people who kept
dragging him down, pulling him down, pulling him back...
LISTER: Spin on! (The video fast forwards and continues.)
RIMMER: (On the video) ...if you put Napoleon in quarters with Lister,
he'd still be in Corsica, peeling spuds.
LISTER: (A mite peeved) Spin on! (The video fast forwards and
continues.)
RIMMER: (On the video) ...we see the final moments of Arnold J. Rimmer.
LISTER: Yes!
On the video, Captain HOLLISTER is in the Drive Room yelling at RIMMER
who is standing at attention. A few random officers stand in the back.
HOLLISTER: (On the video to RIMMER) Look, it was your job to fix it,
Rimmer! You can't do sloppy work on the drive plate!
RIMMER: (On the video) I know, sir, and I accept full responsibility for
*any* consequences. (Executes a Full-Rimmer salute.)
A blinding white light glares and everyone is blown across the room by a
tremendous wind.
HOLLY: (On the video) Emergency. There's an emergency going on. It's
still going on. Will Arnold J. Rimmer please hurry to white corridor
159. This is an emergency announcement.
We see RIMMER as he is thrown against a wall, screaming
RIMMER: (On the video) Aaaaaiiiiiiiuuuuurrrrghhhhh... Gazpacho soup.
RIMMER is blown out of shot until only his arm is visible which falls
into the shattered remains of a snow flurry paperweight (echoes of
"Citizen Kane").
LISTER: Off. (The video stops.) Gazpacho soup? Why were his last words,
"gazpacho soup?"
The CAT rolls in on roller skates using a megaphone.
CAT: Attention lady cats! Sensual emergency! Good lovin' needed bad!
(Spins around.) Ooooooowwww! (To LISTER) Hey, no girls here? What a
waste of a good move! It's a shame. I'm looking so dangerous, too!
Wow! Yeah! yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
LISTER: Cat, what are you doing?
CAT: (Gentlemanly) I'm courting.
LISTER: Courting who?
CAT: Whoever shows up.
LISTER: I told you before. There's no other cats on board.
CAT: If I believed that for one minute, I'd go crazy! (Dancing out)
Oooooowwww! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
5 Model Shot.
Red Dwarf.
RIMMER #2: (VO) Up, up, up! Stretch, stretch, stretch!
6 Int. RIMMERS' quarters.
The two Rimmers are exercising by squatting then leaping high into the
air, throwing their arms above them. Looks like over-exuberant jumping
jacks.
RIMMER #2: Stretch further!
RIMMER: (Stopping) And rest.
RIMMER #2: (Still jumping) No! Keep jumping!
RIMMER: (Jumping some more) Absolutely. Keep on going. Through the pain
barrier.
RIMMER #2: Jump, jump, jump!
RIMMER: (Stopping again) And rest.
RIMMER #2: (Still jumping) What are you doing, man?!
RIMMER: I'm resting! It's going all gray!
RIMMER #2: That's the pain barrier! Beat it!
RIMMER: (Jumping awkwardly) You're right. You're absolutely right. Keep
it going.
RIMMER #2: (Stopping) And rest.
RIMMER: (Collapsing) Brilliant! That extra little bit. That's what it's
all about.
RIMMER #2: What time do we get up?
RIMMER: Oh, early! Half past eight.
RIMMER #2: No, earlier than that. Seven.
RIMMER: How 'bout six?
RIMMER #2: No, half past four.
RIMMER: That's the middle of the night!
RIMMER #2: You wanted driving. I'm driving you.
RIMMER: Once again, Arnold, you're absolutely right. Holly, alarm call
four-thirty in the morning. Make it the sonic boom, extra loud,
emergency one.
HOLLY: Yes, Arnold. And Arnold.
RIMMER starts to crawl into bed
RIMMER #2: Uh, what are you doing, Arnold?
RIMMER: I'm going to bed, Arnold.
RIMMER #2: But it's two in the morning! We can get in a couple hours of
revision easily.
RIMMER: But I'm getting up in a minute.
RIMMER #2: You take Power Circuits and Esperanto. I'll take Thermal
Energy and the History of Philosophy.
RIMMER: (Getting up) Fantastic! This is what I've always dreamed of!
I'm in heaven!
RIMMER #2: Better than sex.
7 Model shot.
View of Red Dwarf from space.
HOLLY: (VO) It is four-thirty. Here is your early-morning alarm call.
A huge blast made of warbles, barks, whistles, and sirens shakes the
ship.
8 Int. Corridor 149, outside LISTER'S quarters.
RIMMER is directing the scutters in painting the walls.
RIMMER: (To the scutters) That's the way. Smooth and even. Up and down.
LISTER walks out of his quarters.
RIMMER: Ah, Lister. Bonnen Maitenon. Didn't wake you, I trust?
LISTER: No, I haven't been to bed yet.
RIMMER: But it's five past five in the morning. It's practically
lunchtime.
LISTER: (Noticing the scutters are doing) What are you doing?
RIMMER: It's called "work," Lister. I didn't think you'd recognize it.
W-O-R-K. It is in the dictionary. (To the scutters) Come on, paint!
Paint, paint, paint!
LISTER: But why are they painting the color the same color it was before?
RIMMER: They're changing it from Ocean Gray to Military Gray. Something
that should've been done a long time ago.
LISTER: Looks exactly the same to me.
RIMMER: No. No, no, no. (Points to a section of a wall.) That's the new
Military Gray bit there, and that's the dowdy, old, nasty Ocean Gray
bit there.
The two bits look identical.
RIMMER: Or is it the other way 'round?
LISTER: It doesn't matter, Rimmer. It very nice. So how's Mrs. Rimmer?
RIMMER: (Sneering) Tee hee, hoddle, ha. Why don't you just get back into
your cesspit or you won't have the energy for a full day's slob.
LISTER: I just wondered what you talked about and that, you know.
RIMMER: Millions of things, Lister. Apart from being a complete genius,
that man happens to be a total delight. Has me in stitches all the
time.
LISTER: What? I mean, he knows everything you know and you know
everything he knows. So what do you talk about?
RIMMER: We reminisce, chew over old times, past glories, old girlfriends.
LISTER: Oh, you mean Yvonne MacGruder?
RIMMER: Don't say Yvonne MacGruder as if she's the only one.
LISTER: Oh, go on, then. Name one other girlfriend, then.
RIMMER: Lister, I'm far, far, far too much of a gentleman to stoop to
that kind of shower-room mentality. All you need to know about Yvonne
MacGruder is: I gave her one!
He makes a fist and punches his arm into the air, grabbing his bicep with
his other hand, in the age-old boinking gesture.
LISTER: Fine, Rimmer, fine. That's very nice. Very, very nice. So, um,
what's "gazpacho soup?"
RIMMER: (Dumbstruck) What?
LISTER: It's just that they were your last words and I wondered why.
RIMMER: You've been watching my death video, haven't you?! That's
private! It's for my enjoyment only!
LISTER: It just seemed like such a strange thing to say. "Gazpacho
soup."
RIMMER: Well, I'm sorry I didn't have time to sit down and bash out a
speech in iambic pentameter. I was hit in the face by an atomic
explosion.
LISTER: But why "gazpacho soup?"
RIMMER: That, Lister, is something that you will never ever know.
HOLLY: Arnold, you asked me to remind you when it was time for your
Esperanto revision.
RIMMER: Thank you, Holly. (To the scutters) You two, carry on.
9 Int. RIMMERS' quarters.
LISTER sneaks in. No sign of the Rimmers. LISTER goes over to the
bookshelf on the desk.
LISTER: (Pulling a large book from the shelf) "A to Z of Red Dwarf!" Ha,
ha, ha-ha!
Opens the book and finds a smaller book hidden in a hole cut into the
book.
LISTER: I thought so!
LISTER puts the dictionary back and reads the small book.
LISTER: "My Diary, by Arnold J. Rimmer. January the first: I have
decided to keep a journal of my thoughts and deeds over the coming
year. A daily chart of my progress through the echelons of command, so
that perhaps one day, other aspiring officers may seek enlightenment
through these pages. It is my fond hope that, one day, this journal
will take its place alongside `Napoleon's War Diaries' and `The
Memories of Julius Caesar'." Next entry... (Flips ahead.)
"July the seventeenth: Auntie Maggie's Birthday." (Flips ahead.)
"November the twenty-fifth: Gazpacho Soup day!" That's six weeks
before the crew got wiped out.
The closet door opens and the CAT climbs out.
CAT: Heh. He won't find *that* one. Heh, heh! Not until he changes his
boots. Heh, heh! (Sees LISTER) OH!
CAT holds a hand up to hide his face and he heads for the door.
CAT: Did you see him clearly? Could you spot him in a parade? I don't
think so. I could've been anybody. (Leaves.)
10 Int. LISTER'S quarters.
LISTER is blowing a large bubble with bubble gum. Once he's satisfied,
he holds up a spanner and ruler to measure it, then pulls the gum out his
mouth with the bubble intact and still attached.
LISTER: Ten and three-quarter centimeters! Plus five for not breaking
and that is a big, big score! The Brown's are going to have to do
something quite sensational with their last bubble. Quite clearly.
(Puts new gum in his mouth.)
HOLLY: Busy, Dave?
LISTER spits his gum across the room in surprise.
LISTER: Well, yeah, I am, actually!
HOLLY: Oh. Then you won't want to know about the two super-lightspeed
fighters that are tracking us.
LISTER: What?!
HOLLY: I'll leave you to your bubble blowing, mate.
LISTER: No, Holly. Hol. Come on.
HOLLY: They're from Earth.
LISTER: That's three million years away.
HOLLY: They're from the NorWEB Federation.
LISTER: What's that?
HOLLY: NorthWestern Electricity Board. They want you, Dave.
LISTER: Me? Why? What for?
HOLLY: For your crimes against humanity.
LISTER: You what?!
HOLLY: Seems when you left Earth, three million years ago, you left two
half-eaten German sausages on a plate in your kitchen.
LISTER: Did I?
HOLLY: You know what happens to sausages left unattended for three
million years?
LISTER: Yeah, they go mouldy.
HOLLY: Your sausages, Dave, now cover seven-eighths of the Earth's
surface. Also, you left seventeen pounds, fifty pence in your bank
account. Thanks to compound interest you now own 98% of all the
world's wealth. And because you hoarded it for three million years,
nobody's got any money except for you and NorWEB.
LISTER: Why NorWEB?
HOLLY: You left a light on in the bathroom. I've got a final demand here
for one hundred and eighty billion pounds.
LISTER: A hundred and eighty billion pounds?!! You're kidding!
HOLLY: (Wearing a Grouch-Marx glasses-nose-and-moustache) April Fool.
LISTER: But it's not April!
HOLLY: Yeah, I know. But I can't be waiting six months with a red-hot
jape like that underneath me hat.
LISTER: So you just made it all up, then?
HOLLY: Yeah. Bit of excitement for a while, wasn't it? You can't beat a
good wheeze. Huhu!
LISTER: I don't need a good wheeze. You can do your own excitement for
yourself.
HOLLY: No, you can't. You haven't got a clue. You're useless.
LISTER: (Hearing the two Rimmers through the wall) Shhhhh!
RIMMER #2: (Through the wall) ....shut up!
RIMMER: (Through the wall) I make you vomit?
LISTER: (To HOLLY) What's that?
RIMMER #2: (Through the wall) Keep your voice down!
11 Int. RIMMERS' quarters.
RIMMER #2 is in bed. RIMMER stand facing him.
RIMMER: (Hurt) I'm not gonna stand here and take this abuse.
RIMMER #2: (Sneering) Oh, yes, when the going gets tough, the tough go
and have a little cry in the corner. You got a sponge for a backbone!
No wonder father hated you!
RIMMER: That's a lie! A lie, lie, lie, lie, lie!
RIMMER #2: Then why didn't he send you to the academy?
RIMMER: He couldn't afford it!
RIMMER #2: Oh! He sent all our brothers!
RIMMER: You're a filthy, smegging, lying, smegging liar!
RIMMER #2: Face facts, man, nobody likes you! Not even Mummy!
RIMMER: (Almost crying) Mummy *did* like me! Mummy was just busy. She
had a lot of meetings to go to.
RIMMER #2: Twattle!
RIMMER: You better watch what you say about my mummy! I'm a grown man
and I'm not going to accept it.
RIMMER #2: (Shouting) Oh, grow up, Mr. Gazpacho!!
RIMMER: (Quietly) Mister what?
RIMMER #2: (Shouting) I ... SAID ... MISTER ... GAZ ... PAAAACHO,
DEAFIE!!!
RIMMER: (Crying) That is the most obscenely hurtful thing.
RIMMER #2: (Shouting) GOOD!
12 Int. LISTER'S quarters.
LISTER is standing at the door, trying to listen to the Rimmers.
RIMMER: (From his quarters) That is the straw that broke the dromedary,
that is. You're finished, Rimmer.
RIMMER #2: (Snarling from his quarters) No, YOU'RE finished, Rimmer!
LISTER sees RIMMER leave his own quarters. LISTER runs back to the top
bunk and pretends he was reading a book. RIMMER walks in sadly.
RIMMER: Ah, Lister... How are you?
LISTER: I'm tickety-boo. What d'ya want?
RIMMER: I don't suppose you've managed to get that Blu-Tac together for
me, have you?
LISTER: Rimmer, it's three A.M.!
RIMMER: It doesn't matter. It can wait til the morning. (Heads for the
bottom bunk.) I'm just gonna sleep here, okay? So, when you're ready.
LISTER: Everything all right, is it?
RIMMER: Sure! Absolutely. Yeah, sure.
LISTER: No problems, then?
RIMMER: No! No, no. Things couldn't be hunky-dorier.
LISTER: It's just I thought I heard, you know, um, raised voices?
RIMMER: Heh. It's quite an amusing thought, isn't it? Having a... a
blazing row with yourself.
RIMMER #2: (Shouting in Rimmer's Quarters) HIT THE WALL! GO ON! HIT THE
WALL! GO ON! YEAH! YEAH!
We see RIMMER #2 is directing the scutters to hit the adjoining wall for
him.
RIMMER #2: (Shouting through the wall) CAN YOU SHUT UP, RIMMER?! SOME OF
US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!
RIMMER: (To LISTER) Obviously, we have professional disagreements. But,
I mean, nothing with any side to it. Nothing malicious.
RIMMER #2: (Shouting through the wall) SHUT UP, YA DEAD GIT!
RIMMER: (Getting up) Excuse me a second, Lister, will you?
He walks calmly to the door.
RIMMER: STOP YOUR FOUL WHINING, YA FILTHY PIECE OF DISTENDED RECTUM!!!
He calmly turns back.
RIMMER: Lister, there's no point in concealing it anymore. Rimmer and
me, we've had a bit of a tiff. Nothing major. But it goes without
saying, IT WAS HIS FAULT!
13 Model shot.
Red Dwarf in space.
14 Int. Cinema.
The CAT and LISTER are sitting together. LISTER has a cigarette,
popcorn, a soda, and other mystery foods.
ANNOUNCER: (On the screen) Fired from Earth? Deep into the heart of the
Solar System? And you fancy a curry? Then why not drop in at the
Titan Taj Mahal Indian Restaurant! Enjoy the finest Tandori Cuisine at
one-fifth gravity! Just a short space-walk from this cinema!
CAT: (To LISTER) Shut up!
LISTER: Look, will you stop doing that?
CAT: I'm trying to watch the film!
LISTER: I'm only eatin'!
CAT: No. Eatin's when the food goes in your mouth!
RIMMER #2: (Walking in) Morning.
LISTER: Yeah.
RIMMER #2: (Sitting beside LISTER) What's on?
LISTER: Orson Welles, "Citizen Kane."
RIMMER #2: Uh, there's no smoking on this side. You should be sitting
over there.
LISTER: Nobody's complaining.
RIMMER #2: Yes, they are! I am. So would you kindly move to the proper
designated smoking area for the convenience of other patrons?
LISTER blows smoke in RIMMER #2's face.
LISTER: I thought you hated films.
RIMMER #2: No, it's for the film course at night school. "Citizen Kane,"
hmmm? That's Orson Welles, is it?
We see that the film is a cartoon with a large cat firing a machine gun.
RIMMER #2: Ah, that's "Citizen Kane," allright! Unmistakable.
LISTER: Why are you here? Where's your wife?
RIMMER #2: Don't ask me. He's nothing to do with me, anymore. Last time
I saw him, he was redoing my paint work. Changing it from Military
Gray back to Ocean Gray. He's quite, quite mad!
RIMMER: (Walking in) Lister. Cat. (Sits directly in front of RIMMER
#2.)
RIMMER #2: (To RIMMER) Excuse me, I can't see.
RIMMER: (To RIMMER #2) Shhh.
RIMMER #2: (To RIMMER) Excuse me, I can't see through the back of your
stupid, curly-haired, sticky-outy-eared head.
LISTER: I'm trying to watch the film!
CAT: Yeah!
RIMMER #2: (To RIMMER) Move!
RIMMER: Look, I just happened to choose a seat at random. If you're
unhappy with your seat, I suggest you move.
RIMMER #2: Right. (Stands up.) Now, where shall I sit? Over here or
over there? Ummmm... no, that's a nice seat! (Sits directly in front
of RIMMER #2.)
RIMMER: Look at this, Mr. Maturity.
After a moment he stands up and sits in front of RIMMER #2 in the front
row.
LISTER: Will you two guys just grow up?
RIMMER #2: Two? I think there's just one immature person around here and
we all know who it is.
RIMMER #2 and RIMMER point at each other.
A shadow of a RIMMER #2's hand as a shadow puppet comes up on the screen.
RIMMER #2: (As the shadow puppet) Hello. What do you think of Arnold
Rimmer? Phbbbttt! Phbbbttt! Phbbbttt! Phbbbttt! Phbbbttt!
LISTER: (Standing up) This can't go on. One of you's is gotta go.
RIMMER: (Pointing at each other) Yes, him.
RIMMER #2: Look, it's crystal smegging clear which one of us has gotta
go.
RIMMER: Yes, you! Look, I was here first. I nursed Listie through those
early, delicate days!
RIMMER #2: Look, we are identical. We're exactly the same person. Only
you're mentally unstable.
LISTER decides to use a rhyme similar to "one-potato, two-potato" to
choose between the two Rimmers.
LISTER: Ippy-dippy, my space shippy, on a course so true, past Neptune
and Pluto's moon, the one I choose is you.
He ends pointing to RIMMER.
RIMMER #2: Excellent! Excellent decision, Listie! Turn him off.
RIMMER: And the one you end on is the one who stays, yes?
LISTER: (Firmly to RIMMER) It's you, Rimmer.
RIMMER: Wait a minute. Just wait a minute. Hold your horses. Hang on.
LISTER: It's your own fault, Rimmer. If you'd've given me Kochanski's
hologram, none of this would've happened. You made the bed, you lie in
it. Drive Room. Ten minutes.
RIMMER #2: Drive Room. Five minutes.
RIMMER: I don't believe it. I've been ippy-dippied to death.
15 Int. Drive room.
LISTER, the CAT, and RIMMER #2 are in the Drive Room.
LISTER: (To RIMMER #2) I want you out.
RIMMER #2: What have I said?
LISTER: Just out!
RIMMER #2: There's precious little entertainment on this ship. I mean,
if you can't attend the odd execution, what have you got left?
LISTER: Out! Go on!
As RIMMER #2 leaves, he passes RIMMER who is in full dress uniform.
RIMMER #2: (To RIMMER) Phbbbttt!!!! Don't forget to write, ya great
nancy! (Leaves.)
RIMMER: Lister.
LISTER: Fancy a drink?
RIMMER shakes his head no. LISTER notices the four medals on RIMMER's
jacket.
LISTER: Ooooh! I didn't know you had any medals! What are they?
RIMMER: (Pointing to each one) Three Year Long Service, Six Years Long
Service, Nine Years Long Service, (pausing to remember) Twelve Years
Long Service.
LISTER: Come on, just one drink.
RIMMER: I'll have a whiskey.
LISTER: Holly, give 'em a whiskey.
HOLLY: How would you like it?
RIMMER: Straight. With ice and lemonade, a cherry and a slice of lemon.
(RIMMER flinches as he experiences the invisible drink.)
LISTER: Another? (RIMMER nods. He flinches.)
RIMMER: And another. (Flinches.) And another. Make it a double.
(Flinches.)
LISTER: So, um, what's all this gazpacho soup business? What's it all
about?
LISTER sits down for the story.
RIMMER: I suppose now I'm doomed, I can tell you. Gazpacho soup. It was
the greatest night of my life. I'd been invited to the Captain's
Table. I'd only been with the company fourteen years. Six officers
and me! They called me "Arnold." We had gazpacho soup for starters. I
didn't know gazpacho soup was meant to be served cold. I called over
the chef and I told him to take it away and bring it back hot. He did!
The looks on their faces still haunt me today!!
(Crying) I thought they were laughing at the chef, when all the time,
they were laughing at me as I ate my piping hot gazpacho soup! I never
ate at the Captain's Table again. That was the end of my career.
LISTER: Oh, come on. Anyone could've made that mistake.
RIMMER: If only they'd've mentioned it in Basic Training! Instead of
climbing up and down ropes and crawling on your elbows through tunnels.
(Shouting) If only, just once, they'd said, "Gazpacho soup is served
cold!" I could've been an admiral by now! (Quietly) Instead of a
nothing which is what I am, let's face it.
LISTER: Aw, come one. You're not a nothing.
CAT: He is.
RIMMER: (To the CAT) You're right!
CAT: I know I'm right.
RIMMER: I never got off the bottom rung. And do you know why? Because I
didn't have the right nobby parents. I bet Todhunter was fed gazpacho
soup the moment he was on solids. No, I bet he was breast-fed with it.
One side gazpacho soup and the other side freely dispensing chilled
champagne! Phbbbbttttt.....!
CAT: (Angry) Is this gonna go on all day? I thought he was gonna get
wiped!
RIMMER: Yes, go on. Turn me off. Go on. Turn me off. Get rid of me.
LISTER: I've already done it. I wiped the other one. (Grins.)
CAT: (Laughs.)
RIMMER: What?! You wiped... When??!!
LISTER: Just before you came in.
RIMMER: And you let me stand here and bare my soul?
LISTER: (Grinning) Yeah. You see, I wanted to find out about gazpacho
soup and I knew you wouldn't tell me.
RIMMER: Well, of course, I wouldn't tell you. You'd make my life a hell
with gazpacho soup jokes for the rest of my life!
LISTER: Rimmer, I promise -- I *swear* -- I will never, ever mention this
conversation again. And when I swear, I mean it.
LISTER stands up.
RIMMER: You promise?
LISTER: I promise. (Crosses himself and makes a Boy Scout salute.)
RIMMER: Do you swear absolutely?
LISTER: I swear absolutely that I promise that I will never mention
gazpacho soup again! (Again crosses himself and makes a Boy Scout
salute.)
RIMMER: Allright. You're a bit of a slob, Lister, you know, but, when it
comes down to it, you keep your word. This time I'm gonna believe you.
Let's go for another drink.
RIMMER, LISTER, and CAT head out the door.
LISTER: Souper!
RIMMER glares at him.
Credits:
Rimmer Chris Barrie
Lister Craig Charles
Cat Danny John-Jules
Holly Norman Lovett
Captain Mac McDonald
Written by Bob Grant
Doug Naylor
Music Howard Goodall
Developed for Television by Paul Jackson Productions
Graphic Designer Mark Allen
Visual Effects Designer Peter Wragg
Prop Buyer Mike Fallon
Assistant Floor Manager Dona Distefano
Production Assistant Alison Thornber
Unit Manager Mario Dubois
Production Manager George R. Clarke
Costume Designer Jacki Pinks
Costume Assistant Lesley Staves
Make-up Designer Suzanne Jansen
Vision Mixer Jill Dornan
Camera Supervisor Mike Jackson
Technical Co-ordinator John Spicer
Videotape Editor Ed Wooden
Lighting Director John Pomphrey
Sound Tony Worthington
Alan Machin
Wendy Rath
Designer Paul Montague
Executive Producer Paul Jackson
Producer & Director Ed Bye
MCMLXXXVII
Series I Episode 5, "Confidence and Paranoia"
1 Ext. View of space.
HOLLY: (In space) This is an SOS distress call from the mining ship Red
Dwarf. The crew are dead, killed by a radiation leak. The only
survivors were Dave Lister, who was in suspended animation during the
disaster, and his pregnant cat, who was safely sealed in the hold.
Revived three million years later, Lister's only companions are a life
form who evolved from his cat, and Arnold Rimmer, a hologram simulation
of one of the dead crew.
(Returning) We have been travelling through the galaxy now for three
million years and there are many things we've discovered. The highest
form of life in the universe is Man and the lowest is a man who works
for the post office.
2 Int. Drive room.
LISTER is watching a soppy movie on one the screens while drinking a beer
milkshake and eating a bowl full of french fries. Romantic piano music
plays in the background of the film.
CAROL: (In the film) Oh, Jim, weren't you the one who said we have to
seize our moments because they may never come again?
LISTER gurgles sadly into his milkshake.
JIM: (In the film) This is our moment, right here and now. Let's seize
it together.
CAROL: Oh, you must know, I'm dying!
JIM: I know, Carol. Dr. Graham told me everything. (The music swells.)
HOLLY appears on the screen, interrupting the movie.
HOLLY: Busy, are you, Dave?
LISTER: Hol! I'm watching the film.
HOLLY: Just wondered if you're a bit bored?
LISTER: No, no. I'm watching the film.
HOLLY: You're not bored, then?
LISTER: No! Go away!
The film reappears on the screen.
CAROL: Oh, you must know, I'm dying!
JIM: I know, Carol. Dr. Graham told me everything. (The music swells.)
LISTER opens his mouth to sob and a mouthful of milkshake gushes onto his
shirt. He doesn't seem to notice.
HOLLY appears on the screen, interrupting the movie.
HOLLY: I've just finished reading everything. I've now read everything
that's been written by anyone ever.
LISTER: Would you go away?
HOLLY: You know what the worst book ever written by anyone ever was?
LISTER: I don't care!
HOLLY: "Football, It's a Funny Old Game" by Kevin Keegan.
LISTER: Holly, would you let me watch the film?
The film reappears on the screen. HOLLY reappears on the screen,
interrupting the movie.
HOLLY: I'm at a loose end now. I don't know what to do with meself.
LISTER: Holly, why don't you just read everything all over again.
HOLLY: I was thinking it might help pass the time if I created a
perfectly functioning replica of a woman, capable of independent
decision-making and abstract thought and absolutely undetectable from
the real thing.
LISTER: (Sitting up eagerly) Well why don't you, then?
HOLLY: Because I don't know how. I wouldn't even know how to make the
nose. Heh.
LISTER: Holly, is there something that you want?
HOLLY: Well, only if you're not busy. Would you mind erasing some of my
memory banks?
LISTER: What for?
HOLLY: Well, if you erase all the Agatha Christie novels from my memory
bank, I can read 'em again tonight.
LISTER: How do I do it?
HOLLY: Just type, "HolMem. Password override. The novels Christie,
Agatha." Then press erase.
LISTER jabs two-fingered on a keyboard.
LISTER: I've done it.
HOLLY: Done what?
LISTER: Erased Agatha Christie.
HOLLY: Who's she, then?
LISTER: Holly, you just asked me to erase all Agatha Christie novels from
your memory.
HOLLY: Why should I do that? I've never heard of her.
LISTER: You've never heard of her because I've just erased her from your
smegging memory.
HOLLY: What'd you do that for?
LISTER: You asked me to!
HOLLY: When?
LISTER: Just now!
HOLLY: I don't remember this.
LISTER: Oh, I'm going to bed. This is gonna go on all night.
LISTER grabs his milkshake and fries and walks out of the room.
3 Int. Sleeping quarters.
LISTER lies in his top bunk, watching the soppy film in the screen over
the sink.
CAROL: ...dying!
JIM: I know, Carol. Dr. Graham told me everything. (The music swells.)
RIMMER: (Marching in) Off! (The screen turns into a mirror.) Ah! Had a
good day, Lister? Scrummed enough choccies? Watched enough drivel,
have you? Look at you: you're turning into a sad, middle-aged woman.
Next thing you know you'll be varnishing your nails and buying girdles.
LISTER: Oh yeah? And what've you done that's so great?
RIMMER: I've achieved seventeen things today off my daily goal list,
whereas you've never achieved anything ever in your entire life.
LISTER: Don't know, you know. I went to the Officer's Block.
RIMMER: When?!
LISTER: This morning.
RIMMER: But it hasn't been decontaminated!
LISTER: You said it had last week!
RIMMER: No, I said it was on last Thursday's daily goal list!
LISTER: And you haven't done it yet?!
RIMMER: Tomorrow. It's on tomorrow's daily goal list. Item 34, right
after "Learn Portugese."
LISTER: Thanks a lot. Don't tell *me*.
RIMMER: Why were you mooching around up there, anyway?
LISTER: I was looking through Kochanski's dream recorder. She dreamt
about me three times, you know. It was in the log.
RIMMER: So? Clean my teeth, please, Holly. (Bares his teeth as if
they're being brushed.)
LISTER: I mean, it must mean something. You don't dream about someone
that you don't feel something for.
RIMMER: Lister, I once had a dream about a babboon but that doesn't mean
I want to go to bed with it. Shave, please, Holly. (Scrunches his
mouth up and sticks out his jaw.) Lister, you ought to take a good long
look at yourself and then you'd see just how ridiculous you appear to
other people.
LISTER: If you'd let me have Kochanski's personality disk for like one
second, maybe I could find out.
RIMMER: Lister, if you were a Love Celibate like me you wouldn't have
these problems.
LISTER: Come on, Rimmer, the only reason you knocked around with those
prats from the Love Celibacy Society was you could never get a date.
RIMMER: No, it wasn't. I happen to agree with their philosophy that love
is a sickness that holds back your career and makes you want to spend
all your money.
LISTER: You could never get a date because you let your mum buy all your
casual clothes.
RIMMER: There is nothing wrong with my casual clothes.
LISTER: Oh, come on, Rimmer, your trousers were so short when you crossed
your legs, you could see your knees.
RIMMER: What about Yvonne MacGruder? That was a date.
LISTER: She'd been hit on the head by a winch, she had a concussion.
RIMMER: That's got nothing to do with it. She was crazy about me.
LISTER: Oh, yeah? She kept calling you "Norman."
RIMMER: She still went to bed with me.
LISTER: Yeah, because she had wonky vision and she thought you were
somebody else.
RIMMER: Serves her right for being concussed, doesn't it?
RIMMER lies down on his bunk
LISTER: Rimmer! You don't know what love is.
RIMMER: Yes, I do. Love is a device invented by bank managers to make us
overdrawn. Lights!
The lights turn off.
LISTER: Rimmer... Love is what makes us different from animals.
RIMMER: No, Lister, what makes us different from animals is we don't use
our tongues to clean our own genitals.
4 Int. Sleeping quarters. Later that night.
LISTER is moaning, sweating, and cringing in the top bunk. RIMMER sleeps
peacefully in the bottom bunk.
LISTER: Lights! (The room lights go on.) Rimmer, are you awake? Rimmer!
Are you awake?!
RIMMER: (Jerking awake) What? Yes, Mum, I'm just packing my satchel.
Where am I? What time is it?
LISTER: I don't feel very well.
RIMMER: (Looking at a clock) Half past three?!
LISTER: I feel really ill.
RIMMER: Well, you are really ill.
LISTER: No, I mean, *really* ill. (Sobbing) I'm going down to the
medical unit. I don't feel very well.
LISTER drops out of bed and stumbles out of the room, clutching his
blanket (which says, "Hilton" on it) around himself.
RIMMER: Lights! (The light go back off. RIMMER settles back to sleep.)
Ah, Miss MacGruder, where were we?
5 Int. Corridor 159, outside sleeping quarters.
LISTER stumbles on the corridor, sobbing, sweating, shivering.
LISTER: I feel really hot.
LISTER stumbles and falls to the floor, unconscious.
6 Int. Level 147.
The CAT is dancing along the corridor, spraying various items with a
small misting bottle.
CAT: Hey, this is mine. That's mine. All this is mine. I'm claiming
all this as mine. Except that bit. I don't want that bit. But all
the rest of this is mine. Hey, this has been a good day. I've eaten
five times, I've slept six times, and I've made a lot of things mine.
Tomorrow, I'm gonna see if I can't have *sex* with something. (Dancing
away) Oooooooooow, yeaaaaaaah...
7 Int. Corridor 159.
LISTER is still unconscious on the floor as the CAT dances up the
corridor toward him.
CAT: (Singing) S-E-X, you know I want it! S-E-X, I'm gonna get it!
(Seeing LISTER) S-E-X, I think I found it! (Recognizes LISTER and
crouches down beside him.) Oh, it's you! Hey, monkey, you're sick.
Sick, helpless, and unconscious. If you weren't my friend, I'd steal
your shoes. (Sprays LISTER with the misting bottle and stands up.)
Time for a snack. This way. (Dances away.)
HOLLY: Emergency. There's an emergency going on. It's still going on.
It's still an emergency. Will Arnold Rimmer please hurry to White
Corridor 159. This is an emergency announcement.
8 Int. Dining area.
The CAT stands at a food dispenser.
CAT: Food!
DISPENSING MACHINE: Today's specialty is Chicken Meringue.
A chicken meringue with dinner rolls drops into the dispensing shelf.
The CAT takes it and dances to a table.
CAT: (Singing) I'm gonna eat you little chickie. I'm gonna eat you
little chickie. I'm gonna eat you little chickie.
He flicks the chicken off the table to one side, catching it before it
hits the ground.
CAT: Uh uh, too slow, chicken merango. Too slow for this cat.
He places the chicken back on his plate, looks away, and flicks the
chicken off the other side, onto the floor
CAT: Hey! This chicken is faster than I thought!
He retrieves the chicken.
RIMMER: (Running into the room) Quick! Lister's fainted! He needs help!
Quick!
The CAT jumps up as if to follow, prompting RIMMER to run back out, at
which point the CAT sits back down again.
RIMMER: (Runs back in) Didn't you hear me? Didn't anyone hear me?
Lister's in trouble. The monkey, oo oo oo, has fainted. I can not
pick him up. Quick! Come on! Now!
The CAT jumps up again, RIMMER runs back out, and the CAT sits back down.
RIMMER: (Walks back in.) Is there something wrong with you? Lister's
collapsed!
CAT: Yeah?
RIMMER: What do you mean "yeah?" He needs help!
CAT: And?
RIMMER: And if you don't help him he might die.
CAT: Aw, no. That's too bad. I really liked him, too.
RIMMER: So, come and help him.
CAT: What? And interrupt my lunch?!
RIMMER: What is more important: a man's life or your smegging lunch?
CAT: That doesn't even deserve an answer.
RIMMER: Right. Okay. Fine. (Pointing to the scutters) You come with
me. You get a stretcher.
The CAT juggles his dinner rolls, sticks one in his mouth and holds the
other two over his eyes.
9 Int. Medical unit.
LISTER is sitting in a wheelchair, wrapped in his blanket. RIMMER stands
beside the medicomp, a medical computer. One of the scutters is on a
counter, holding a thermometer.
RIMMER: (Directing the scutter) Down. Down. Okay, stop.
LISTER: Let the medicomp take me temperature.
RIMMER: Lister, they've got to learn. Down, down, slowly now. Ah ah,
now very, very, very slowly forward.
The scutter jabs the thermometer into LISTER's eye.
LISTER: AIGH! Me eye!
RIMMER: Lister, they've got to learn.
LISTER: I just nearly lost an eye!
RIMMER: How about an anal reading?
LISTER: I'm all right! I feel fine now.
RIMMER: Well, you're not fine. And it's your own smegging fault for
going up to the Officer's Deck before it was decontaminated.
LISTER: I just wanted to have a look around.
RIMMER: You just wanted to go into Kochanski's quarters and wallow in
self-pity. And look what's it got you!
LISTER: I'm all right. I've got a touch of pneumonia. That's all.
RIMMER: It's not pneumonia. Three million years ago it was pneumonia but
since then it's bred and mutated and now we don't know what it is.
LISTER: Why didn't I ask her out? What's the worst she could've said?
RIMMER: She could've said, "No, you're a filthy, stinking, loathsome,
disgusting object I wouldn't be seen dead with in a plague pit."
LISTER: She could've said, "yes." Stranger things have happened!
RIMMER: Only two spring to mind, Lister: the spontaneous combustion of
the Mayor of Warsaw in 1546 and that incident in 12th century Burgandy
when it rained herring.
LISTER: There's this theory that Chen used to have. It's like everyone's
got two people inside you. You've got your confidence and paranoia.
And your confidence's the guy who goes, "Hey you're great. You're dead
sexy! Everybody loves you!" And your paranoia says, "You're stupid.
You're useless. You're ugly. And everybody hates you."
RIMMER: (Looking at the medicomp) That's odd, Lister. According to this
reading, you're clinically dead.
LISTER: And what had happened was my confidence was just about to
persuade me to ask Kochanski out and as I was walking up to her he'd go
on a business trip to Hawaii or something and I'd be left with my
paranoia saying, "You must be joking. She's gonna laugh in our face."
RIMMER: You know, sometimes, Lister, you can be quite perceptive and
thought-provoking. And other times, like this, you can rant and drivel
on like a complete loonie.
LISTER: Just take me to me bed.
RIMMER: All right, Lister. (To the scutter on the floor) Okay, you know
how it works. Now release the mechanism very, very, very gently.
The scutter flicks a switch and LISTER and his wheelchair zip across the
room and crash into a table.
RIMMER: Possibly a gnat's more gently than that.
10 Int. Sleeping quarters.
LISTER is lying in bed, having an nightmare. RIMMER is standing in front
of the mirror, practising the Full-Rimmer, Triple-Rimmer, and a Two-
Handed-Rimmer salute.
LISTER: (In his sleep) Quick! Get an umbrella. Get an umbrella. Quick,
get an umbrella. Get an umbrella. Cor! Ungh...
RIMMER: (Reading from a poster tacked over the sink) "Necrobics,
Hologrammatic Exercises for the Dead."
LISTER: It's raining. It's raining down. Get an umbrella! It's
raining. It's raining.
RIMMER clenches up his face and starts rolling his head around.
Something falls from the ceiling. Another one falls. RIMMER opens his
eyes to see herring falling from the ceiling. He stares in amazement as
more and more herring start to rain down from the ceiling. RIMMER backs
out of the room.
11 Int. Corridor 159.
RIMMER continues to back out of the room. There's no fish falling
outside of the room.
RIMMER: Holly, what's going on?
HOLLY: What?
RIMMER: What's happening?
HOLLY: Um, Hercule Poirot's just stepped off the steaming train. And if
you want my opinion, I think they all did it.
RIMMER: Why did we have to have you as the ship's computer? We'd be
better off with a bucket of sheep's slop running things.
HOLLY: If you've got a complaint, just come straight out with it. Don't
hide behind innuendo and hyperbole.
RIMMER: Why is it raining fish in our sleeping quarters?!
HOLLY: I'd be lying if I said I knew. The only comparable incident on
record is in 12th century Burgandy when it rained herring.
The Mayor of Warsaw walks up to RIMMER, ringing a bell. He stops, then
spontaneously combusts in a flash, leaving only a pile of clothes behind.
RIMMER: It really is gonna be one of those days.
12 Model shot.
Red Dwarf in space.
13 Int. Sleeping quarters.
LISTER lying in bed. The CAT struts in with a silvery shopping bag.
CAT: Hey! You're awake!
LISTER: Yeah, I've just woke up.
CAT: Yeah, well, I've brought you some presents!
LISTER: Aw, you shouldn't have bothered.
CAT: Ha ha! Well, I'm that kind of guy! Hey, let's see what we've got
in the magic bag here! I got you some grapes! (Holds up the bare
stems of an ex-bunch of grapes.) And I got you got you an orange!
(Holds up an orange peel.)
LISTER: Thanks a lot.
CAT: That's all right. Hey, well, all this enormous generosity has made
me tired. I'm going to bed. (Takes LISTER's pillow and blanket and
lies down on the bottom bunk.) Ah, yes, indeedy.
RIMMER walks in.
RIMMER: (To LISTER) You're awake.
CAT: Yeah, but I'll be asleep in a minute.
RIMMER: (To LISTER) How do you feel?
CAT: Fine. Just don't ask me anymore questions. I'm trying to sleep!
RIMMER: (To the CAT) Shut up! You stupid moggey! And out of that bed!
CAT: (Getting out of bed) Well, if you're going to speak to me like that,
I'm gonna take my presents back! (Grabs the bag and heads for the
door.)
RIMMER: (To LISTER) How do you feel?
CAT: (Walking out the room) Hurt!
LISTER: I feel great.
RIMMER: Listen, Lister, you had a fever, okay?
LISTER: Yeah?
RIMMER: And, you started to hallucinate, all right?
LISTER: Yeah?
RIMMER: Only your hallucinations... were solid.
LISTER: What do you mean, "solid?"
RIMMER: I mean they were real, alive, solid.
LISTER: Solid?
RIMMER: Solid.
LISTER: What do you mean, "they were solid?"
RIMMER: Okay, I'll put it another way. You had hallucinations, all
right?
LISTER: Yeah?
RIMMER: And they were solid. I told you it wasn't ordinary pneumonia. I
told you it was mutated. I knew something like this would happen.
LISTER: Okay, well, what did I hallucinate?
RIMMER: Well, first of all, it was fish rain.
LISTER: Fish rain? Yeah, I dreamt that!
RIMMER: Well, it actually happened!
LISTER: Where's all the fish?
CAT: (Sticking his head in the door) Somebody ate them!
RIMMER: Then, the Mayor of Warsaw spontaneously combusted. And then you
hallucinated two men in the Drive Room.
LISTER: What two men?
RIMMER: Apparently, one of them's your confidence and the other's your
paranoia.
14 Int. Drive room.
CONFIDENCE is a bulky man in loud yellow plaids, gold chains, and slicked
back hair. He is eating a steak on the central station. PARANOIA is a
scrawny, stooped, sunken-eyed man in a black suit, sitting at a work
station, eating a yogurt and sneering at CONFIDENCE.
LISTER and RIMMER walk in.
CONFIDENCE: (Jumping up) Hey! It's the king! (Kisses LISTER.) Mr.
Beautiful! (To RIMMER) Hey, you, what does the "H" stand for? Horace?
A chair for the king, Horace. And breakfast. Mr. Wonderful wishes to
dine. (Guiding LISTER to a chair) Have you lost weight? You're
looking great. (To the others) Is he totally perfect or what?
LISTER: (Grinning widely) You're my confidence?
CONFIDENCE: I just love that accent. It makes me go all quibbley!
LISTER: I don't get it. You look like the manager of the London Jets but
you sound like Bing Baxter, the American quiz show host.
CONFIDENCE: (Smiles.) I'm all the things you associate with confidence,
King.
LISTER: (To PARANOIA) And you're my paranoia?
PARANOIA: Isn't that a urine stain on the front of your trousers?
LISTER: What? (Looks at this groin.) No, it isn't. It's tea.
PARANOIA: (Approaching LISTER) So how are you anyway? Isn't that a huge
spot appearing on your so-called face? My god, you've got fat, haven't
you? Must be all that lager. Bet you've got a terminal disease.
Always happens to the people who least expect it. Don't you find that?
Say "hello," then, won't you? (Walking back to his seat) I'm only
trying to be friendly.
LISTER is looking decidedly worried.
CONFIDENCE: (To LISTER) Baby, baby, what can I say? (To the others) Is
he the greatest, most fantasic, most handsome guy ever, or am I insane?
RIMMER: (To CONFIDENCE) You're insane. (To LISTER) Lister, what are you
going to do about them?
LISTER: Do? What can I do?
RIMMER: I think we should arrest them.
LISTER: What for?
RIMMER: For being hallucinations.
LISTER: Come on, smeghead. It's a bit of company, isn't it?
RIMMER: Lister, you're still sick. These two are symptoms of your
disease. They're like the spots in measles, the swellings in mumps,
the funny walk in cystitis. Until they're gone, you won't be better.
CONFIDENCE: Hey, now I know what the "H" stands for. "Hidiot!" Am I
right? Heh heh heh!
RIMMER: (To CONFIDENCE) You are treading on a very thin line, me laddo.
The "H" stands for "Hologram." I happen to be dead.
CONFIDENCE: Couldn't happen to a more deserving guy. (To LISTER) Come
on, King. Forget those losers. Let's go party.
RIMMER: No, I forbid it!
LISTER: Why?
PARANOIA: Why do you never listen to Mr. Rimmer? He's so much more
experienced, more level-headed, so much... better than you.
CONFIDENCE: (Putting an arm around LISTER) Hey! No one is better than
Mr. Magnificent! And no one tells the Prince of Charisma what to do.
Right, Prince?
LISTER: (Smiling) Yeah, right!
CONFIDENCE: That's my Davey-boy! Oohoo!
CONFIDENCE leads LISTER out of the room.
RIMMER: I don't believe it, he's socializing with a figment of his
imagination.
PARANOIA: Yes.
RIMMER makes a pained expression at PARANOIA's back.
15 SFX view of space.
Lots of dust swirls around.
HOLLY: (VO) Please note the dust storm approaching. The surface of the
ship is now out of bounds. All air locks are being automatically
sealed. Estimated duration: eighteen hours.
16 Int. Sleeping quarters.
CONFIDENCE listens as LISTER strums discordantly at his guitar.
LISTER: (Singing) ...our love I tried to kindle, like firelight it...
dwindled, now I wonder when this... wind'll ever... stop-----.
CONFIDENCE: (Incredulously) You wrote that?
LISTER: Yeah, but that was ages ago, you know.
CONFIDENCE: That is the greatest love song ever.
LISTER: Come on!
CONFIDENCE: Ever! It's so deep! All the images! The dwindling, the
kindling, all the -indling! I love all that stuff! When I think
there's fast buck merchants like Bee-toven and Mozart out there
grabbing all the publicity and here's you, writing pieces of that
caLEEber, it makes me feel weak.
LISTER: (Noticing CONFIDENCE is putting a cigarette butt in his pocket)
What are you doing with that cigarette butt?
CONFIDENCE: Oh, you've embarrassed me now. It's just that, your lips
have touched it. Your lips! The King's kissing lips! And I just
wanted some proof that I'd actually met the Duke of Deliciousness!
LISTER: You're serious, aren't you?
CONFIDENCE: Serious about what?
LISTER: I'm a nobody! Out of a hundred and sixty-nine people aboard this
ship, I ranked one-six-nine. Bottom of the pile.
CONFIDENCE: That's because you didn't want all that career stuff. You
wanted your farm on Fiji with you-know-who. (Holds up a Polaroid of
Kochanski.)
LISTER: If she'd've come.
CONFIDENCE: If? IF?! And turn down the opportunity of becoming the envy
of all womankind?
LISTER: Oh, we'll never know now.
CONFIDENCE: Why not?
LISTER: She's dead.
CONFIDENCE: So? So's Rimmer. Bring her back.
LISTER: I can't. Holly can only sustain one hologram and Rimmer's hidden
all the other personality disks.
CONFIDENCE: So? Find them.
LISTER: I can't.
CONFIDENCE: King. You can do anything! Anything!
17 Int. Drive room.
PARANOIA and RIMMER are talking together.
PARANOIA: ...anything. He can't do anything.
RIMMER: Oh, I know, I know. I'll bet five.
PARANOIA: Do you know he used to practice kissing on his own?
RIMMER: How?
PARANOIA: (Demonstrating) He made lips out of one hand and waggled his
thumb through the gap, like a tongue.
RIMMER: That is priceless! It really is.
PARANOIA: Seventeen years old and he used to snog his own hand. Once, in
front of the whole school, he called his gym teacher "Daddy."
A scutter rolls in a door behind PARANOIA, holding a syringe.
PARANOIA: I could've died with embarrassment.
RIMMER: (Leaning closer to PARANOIA, trying to keep him distracted) Oh,
what a silly thing to call a gym master.
PARANOIA: I'm racked with guilt. I hate him.
RIMMER: Why do you hate him? Why do you talk about him so much?
PARANOIA: Because he makes my life one big, humiliating, cringe-making,
guilt-ridden hell!
RIMMER: (Shouting to the scutter) NOW! STAB HIM! STAB HIM! STAB HIM!
QUICK! STAB HIM!
PARANOIA turns to look at the scutter which has hardly moved.
RIMMER: (To PARANOIA) Uh, you haven't met "Stabem," have you? He's one
of the scutters. Stabem, meet Lister's paranoia. Lister's paranoia,
this is Stabem.
The scutter drops the syringe and tries to shake hands with PARANOIA.
LISTER and CONFIDENCE walk in through the opposite door.
LISTER: Yo, Rimmer, listen, we've been thinking. We think we can get
Kochanski back without turning you off.
PARANOIA: Oh, he's drunk. Yes. I can smell it from here.
LISTER: All we have to do is turn off all non-essential power systems and
Holly says it'll work.
CONFIDENCE: (Holding a lightbulb over LISTER's head) Ding dong! Another
great idea from the people who brought you Beeeeer Milkshakes!
PARANOIA: How can you be so obsessed with a girl you hardly know?
CONFIDENCE: Hardly know, sir? You haven't heard the "-indling" song!
(Singing) Our love I tried to kindle--
LISTER: Not now!
RIMMER: Lister, you're not having her disk.
LISTER: Why? Because she'll rank above you?
PARANOIA: But she's a bright, good-looking, intelligent, witty, upwardly-
mobile officer. Why should she be interested in you?
RIMMER: Yes! Why should she be interested in you?
LISTER: Yeah, why should she be interested in me?
CONFIDENCE: Hmm? Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about that song. I
can't get it out of my head. Why? Because you're great! You're an
incredibly seductive, charming, charismatic, young stud!
LISTER: Oh, yeah! I forgot. That's why she'd be interested in me.
RIMMER: Lister, you're not having her disk or any disk.
CONFIDENCE: Come on, King, you know Rimmer. Where would he hide 'em?
LISTER: I don't know.
CONFIDENCE: Yes, you do.
PARANOIA: No, he doesn't.
CONFIDENCE: Come on, think "Winner!"
LISTER: Outside. Outside the ship.
RIMMER: Uh... Wrong, actually!
CONFIDENCE: Where outside?
LISTER: Well, he'd have to send the scutters... and the disks would have
to be safe.
RIMMER: Wrong, wrong, absolutely brimming over with wrong-ability.
LISTER: And they'd have to be right under me nose he could laugh at me.
RIMMER: Wrong and getting wronger all the time.
LISTER: Outside out sleeping quarters. The solar panel outside our
sleeping quarters!
RIMMER: You followed me, you goit!
LISTER: Is that where they are?! That's incredible! I did it!
18 Int. Medical unit.
The medicomp is smashed apart. The bits are smoking, flashing, and
making odd "broken" sounds.
RIMMER: (Walks in and sees the broken medicomp.) Lister?
19 Model shot.
Red Dwarf is going through a huge dust storm.
20 Int. Drive room. Later.
LISTER is wearing a spacesuit, holding the helmet under his arm.
LISTER: How long now, Hol?
HOLLY: Can't be long now, Dave. Hercule has got all the suspects in one
room and I'm only too pages away from "Also by the same author."
LISTER: No, Holly. The dust storm.
HOLLY: Oh, that. Any time now, it's almost subsided.
CONFIDENCE: (Struts in wearing a spacesuit.) Yeah, how's my baby boy?
Oh, look! You've got a body like a coat hanger! How can you make a
spacesuit look like evening wear?
RIMMER: (Walking in) Let me ask you one question?
LISTER: It's no use arguing, Rimmer. I'm going.
RIMMER: Who smashed up the medicomp?
CONFIDENCE: He's stalling, King. Let's go.
RIMMER: Holly, give him a punch up.
The image of the smoldering medicomp appears on one of the monitors.
LISTER: Look, what's in it for them, smashing up the medical unit?
RIMMER: Lister, come here. Come here. (LISTER walks up to him.
CONFIDENCE listens over LISTER's shoulder.) You are still sick.
LISTER: I feel great.
RIMMER: You will not... (Glances at CONFIDENCE.) You will not... (Glares
at CONFIDENCE) You will not be better until they've gone. They know
that and now they've stopped you getting any treatment. Where's
Paranoia?
CONFIDENCE: I don't know. Is it someplace near Uruguay? Heh heh heh!
Who is this joker?
RIMMER: Lister, they're germs and they're dangerous.
HOLLY: The storm has passed, Dave. Airlocks are now released.
CONFIDENCE: What are we waiting for, King?
LISTER: (Looks at RIMMER.) Nothing.
LISTER and CONFIDENCE head out.
RIMMER: Holly, put a trace on Paranoia.
HOLLY: What's a trace?
RIMMER: It's space jargon. It means find him.
HOLLY: No, it doesn't. You just made it up to be cool.
RIMMER: Where is he?
HOLLY: Paranoia is no longer aboard this ship.
21 Ext. Red Dwarf catwalk.
LISTER and CONFIDENCE are walking along a catwalk on the side of Red
Dwarf. Presumably near the sleeping quarters.
CONFIDENCE: Hey, look at that view, Kingo! Me and you, on top of the
world! Makes you wanna dance! Cha, cha cha, cha cha cha cha cha
cha,...
LISTER: (Finding the disks) Hey, here it is!
CONFIDENCE: Cha, cha cha, cha cha cha cha cha cha,...
LISTER: (Holding a disk box) Did you hear something?
CONFIDENCE: Nope. In space, no one can hear you cha-cha-cha!
LISTER: You don't think Paranoia could've got here first, do you?
CONFIDENCE: Forget him, he's no danger.
LISTER: He smashed up the medical unit.
CONFIDENCE: No, he didn't.
LISTER: What do you mean?
CONFIDENCE: I did!
LISTER: *You* did?
CONFIDENCE: So we can be together, Davey! You don't want to get cured.
I did it for you!
LISTER: So where did he go, then?
CONFIDENCE: I killed him. Cha-cha-cha...
LISTER: What do you mean, you "killed him, cha-cha-cha?!"
CONFIDENCE: Hey, don't look at me like that. He didn't suffer! I just
fed him into the waste grinder and flushed his bits into space.
LISTER: Look, I'm gonna go inside now. Gets a little bit hot, you could
get claustrophobic in these suits.
CONFIDENCE: Take your helmet off.
LISTER: (Backing away) What?!
CONFIDENCE: (Following LISTER) You're hot. Take your helmet off.
LISTER: I'll die!
CONFIDENCE: Why?
LISTER: There's no oxygen out here!
CONFIDENCE: Hey! Oxygen's for losers! Come on.
LISTER: I *need* oxygen!
LISTER has reached the end of the catwalk.
CONFIDENCE: You don't need anything, King. You're the King!
LISTER: You're crazy!
LISTER grabs the handrail and vaults around behind CONFIDENCE.
CONFIDENCE: Who told you you needed oxygen, huh? Some loser who was
trying to make you feel small. Look, I'll prove it to you. I'll take
mine off first. We'll soon see who the crazy one is around here!
CONFIDENCE removes his helmet.
LISTER: NO!!!
Almost immediately his body decompresses in a horrific explosion.
22 Int. Sleeping quarters.
The CAT has his clothes hung up on laundry lines around the room. RIMMER
whistles to himself.
RIMMER: Must you do this now?
CAT: I'm doing my laundry!
RIMMER: It's totally disgusting.
CAT: What's disgusting?
He proceeds to lick the collar of one of the shirts enthusiastically.
RIMMER: Lister.
LISTER: Yeah?
RIMMER: I just want to say, I was right all along. I said they were
germs and they were germs.
LISTER: Yeah, okay. So what?
RIMMER: And I'm just saying now, that disk will only bring you misery. I
just want you to remember that I said that.
LISTER: Look, if she comes back and she's not interested, I can handle
it.
RIMMER: Whatever, Lister. I want it on record: that disk is a one-way
ticket to Miseryville.
LISTER: Yeah, well, I spent enough time listening to me paranoia. Now
I'm gonna listen to me confidence. (Heads out with the disk.)
RIMMER executes a Full-Rimmer salute and heads out the door, humming a
marching tune. The CAT tries out the salute, waves it off, and then
dances out of the room.
23 Int. Holo projection suite.
LISTER is standing in front of the central station, looking at the disk.
LISTER: Hi, Krissie. It's not gonna work. Hello, Krissie. That's not
gonna work either. (Overly macho) Hey, yo, Krissie! (High and wimpy)
Hi... (He loads the disk into the simulator.)
RIMMER and the CAT walk in.
RIMMER: Lister, look, good luck. I mean it.
LISTER: Smeg off.
RIMMER: No, honestly, I mean it. Good luck.
LISTER: Okay, Hol. Switch it on.
On the other side of the room, another hologram of RIMMER appears.
RIMMER #2: Well, he did warn you.
RIMMER: I certainly did. (To LISTER) Do you honestly think I'd put
Kochanski's disk in Kochanski's box where any Munchkin could find it?
You think you had it bad before, Lister? Well now you've got it in
stereo, baby. (To RIMMER #2) Welcome aboard, Rimmsie.
RIMMER #2: Nice to be here, Mr. Rimmer, you son of a gun.
Credits:
Rimmer Chris Barrie
Lister Craig Charles
Cat Danny John-Jules
Holly Norman Lovett
Paranoia Lee Cornes
Confidence Craig Ferguson
Written by Bob Grant
Doug Naylor
Music Howard Goodall
Developed for Television by Paul Jackson Productions
Graphic Designer Mark Allen
Visual Effects Designer Peter Wragg
Prop Buyer Duncan Wheeler
Assistant Floor Manager Dona Distefano
Production Assistant Alison Thornber
Unit Manager Mario Dubois
Production Manager George R. Clarke
Costume Designer Jacki Pinks
Make-up Designer Suzanne Jansen
Vision Mixer Jill Dornan
Camera Supervisor Mike Jackson
Technical Co-ordinator John Spicer
Videotape Editor Ed Wooden
Lighting Director John Pomphrey
Sound Supervisor Tony Worthington
Designer Paul Montague
Executive Producer Paul Jackson
Producer & Director Ed Bye
HOLLY: (In space) This is an SOS distress call from the mining ship Red
Dwarf. The crew are dead, killed by a radiation leak. The only
survivors were Dave Lister, who was in suspended animation during the
disaster, and his pregnant cat, who was safely sealed in the hold.
Revived three million years later, Lister's only companions are a life
form who evolved from his cat, and Arnold Rimmer, a hologram simulation
of one of the dead crew.
(Returning) We have been travelling through the galaxy now for three
million years and there are many things we've discovered. The highest
form of life in the universe is Man and the lowest is a man who works
for the post office.
2 Int. Drive room.
LISTER is watching a soppy movie on one the screens while drinking a beer
milkshake and eating a bowl full of french fries. Romantic piano music
plays in the background of the film.
CAROL: (In the film) Oh, Jim, weren't you the one who said we have to
seize our moments because they may never come again?
LISTER gurgles sadly into his milkshake.
JIM: (In the film) This is our moment, right here and now. Let's seize
it together.
CAROL: Oh, you must know, I'm dying!
JIM: I know, Carol. Dr. Graham told me everything. (The music swells.)
HOLLY appears on the screen, interrupting the movie.
HOLLY: Busy, are you, Dave?
LISTER: Hol! I'm watching the film.
HOLLY: Just wondered if you're a bit bored?
LISTER: No, no. I'm watching the film.
HOLLY: You're not bored, then?
LISTER: No! Go away!
The film reappears on the screen.
CAROL: Oh, you must know, I'm dying!
JIM: I know, Carol. Dr. Graham told me everything. (The music swells.)
LISTER opens his mouth to sob and a mouthful of milkshake gushes onto his
shirt. He doesn't seem to notice.
HOLLY appears on the screen, interrupting the movie.
HOLLY: I've just finished reading everything. I've now read everything
that's been written by anyone ever.
LISTER: Would you go away?
HOLLY: You know what the worst book ever written by anyone ever was?
LISTER: I don't care!
HOLLY: "Football, It's a Funny Old Game" by Kevin Keegan.
LISTER: Holly, would you let me watch the film?
The film reappears on the screen. HOLLY reappears on the screen,
interrupting the movie.
HOLLY: I'm at a loose end now. I don't know what to do with meself.
LISTER: Holly, why don't you just read everything all over again.
HOLLY: I was thinking it might help pass the time if I created a
perfectly functioning replica of a woman, capable of independent
decision-making and abstract thought and absolutely undetectable from
the real thing.
LISTER: (Sitting up eagerly) Well why don't you, then?
HOLLY: Because I don't know how. I wouldn't even know how to make the
nose. Heh.
LISTER: Holly, is there something that you want?
HOLLY: Well, only if you're not busy. Would you mind erasing some of my
memory banks?
LISTER: What for?
HOLLY: Well, if you erase all the Agatha Christie novels from my memory
bank, I can read 'em again tonight.
LISTER: How do I do it?
HOLLY: Just type, "HolMem. Password override. The novels Christie,
Agatha." Then press erase.
LISTER jabs two-fingered on a keyboard.
LISTER: I've done it.
HOLLY: Done what?
LISTER: Erased Agatha Christie.
HOLLY: Who's she, then?
LISTER: Holly, you just asked me to erase all Agatha Christie novels from
your memory.
HOLLY: Why should I do that? I've never heard of her.
LISTER: You've never heard of her because I've just erased her from your
smegging memory.
HOLLY: What'd you do that for?
LISTER: You asked me to!
HOLLY: When?
LISTER: Just now!
HOLLY: I don't remember this.
LISTER: Oh, I'm going to bed. This is gonna go on all night.
LISTER grabs his milkshake and fries and walks out of the room.
3 Int. Sleeping quarters.
LISTER lies in his top bunk, watching the soppy film in the screen over
the sink.
CAROL: ...dying!
JIM: I know, Carol. Dr. Graham told me everything. (The music swells.)
RIMMER: (Marching in) Off! (The screen turns into a mirror.) Ah! Had a
good day, Lister? Scrummed enough choccies? Watched enough drivel,
have you? Look at you: you're turning into a sad, middle-aged woman.
Next thing you know you'll be varnishing your nails and buying girdles.
LISTER: Oh yeah? And what've you done that's so great?
RIMMER: I've achieved seventeen things today off my daily goal list,
whereas you've never achieved anything ever in your entire life.
LISTER: Don't know, you know. I went to the Officer's Block.
RIMMER: When?!
LISTER: This morning.
RIMMER: But it hasn't been decontaminated!
LISTER: You said it had last week!
RIMMER: No, I said it was on last Thursday's daily goal list!
LISTER: And you haven't done it yet?!
RIMMER: Tomorrow. It's on tomorrow's daily goal list. Item 34, right
after "Learn Portugese."
LISTER: Thanks a lot. Don't tell *me*.
RIMMER: Why were you mooching around up there, anyway?
LISTER: I was looking through Kochanski's dream recorder. She dreamt
about me three times, you know. It was in the log.
RIMMER: So? Clean my teeth, please, Holly. (Bares his teeth as if
they're being brushed.)
LISTER: I mean, it must mean something. You don't dream about someone
that you don't feel something for.
RIMMER: Lister, I once had a dream about a babboon but that doesn't mean
I want to go to bed with it. Shave, please, Holly. (Scrunches his
mouth up and sticks out his jaw.) Lister, you ought to take a good long
look at yourself and then you'd see just how ridiculous you appear to
other people.
LISTER: If you'd let me have Kochanski's personality disk for like one
second, maybe I could find out.
RIMMER: Lister, if you were a Love Celibate like me you wouldn't have
these problems.
LISTER: Come on, Rimmer, the only reason you knocked around with those
prats from the Love Celibacy Society was you could never get a date.
RIMMER: No, it wasn't. I happen to agree with their philosophy that love
is a sickness that holds back your career and makes you want to spend
all your money.
LISTER: You could never get a date because you let your mum buy all your
casual clothes.
RIMMER: There is nothing wrong with my casual clothes.
LISTER: Oh, come on, Rimmer, your trousers were so short when you crossed
your legs, you could see your knees.
RIMMER: What about Yvonne MacGruder? That was a date.
LISTER: She'd been hit on the head by a winch, she had a concussion.
RIMMER: That's got nothing to do with it. She was crazy about me.
LISTER: Oh, yeah? She kept calling you "Norman."
RIMMER: She still went to bed with me.
LISTER: Yeah, because she had wonky vision and she thought you were
somebody else.
RIMMER: Serves her right for being concussed, doesn't it?
RIMMER lies down on his bunk
LISTER: Rimmer! You don't know what love is.
RIMMER: Yes, I do. Love is a device invented by bank managers to make us
overdrawn. Lights!
The lights turn off.
LISTER: Rimmer... Love is what makes us different from animals.
RIMMER: No, Lister, what makes us different from animals is we don't use
our tongues to clean our own genitals.
4 Int. Sleeping quarters. Later that night.
LISTER is moaning, sweating, and cringing in the top bunk. RIMMER sleeps
peacefully in the bottom bunk.
LISTER: Lights! (The room lights go on.) Rimmer, are you awake? Rimmer!
Are you awake?!
RIMMER: (Jerking awake) What? Yes, Mum, I'm just packing my satchel.
Where am I? What time is it?
LISTER: I don't feel very well.
RIMMER: (Looking at a clock) Half past three?!
LISTER: I feel really ill.
RIMMER: Well, you are really ill.
LISTER: No, I mean, *really* ill. (Sobbing) I'm going down to the
medical unit. I don't feel very well.
LISTER drops out of bed and stumbles out of the room, clutching his
blanket (which says, "Hilton" on it) around himself.
RIMMER: Lights! (The light go back off. RIMMER settles back to sleep.)
Ah, Miss MacGruder, where were we?
5 Int. Corridor 159, outside sleeping quarters.
LISTER stumbles on the corridor, sobbing, sweating, shivering.
LISTER: I feel really hot.
LISTER stumbles and falls to the floor, unconscious.
6 Int. Level 147.
The CAT is dancing along the corridor, spraying various items with a
small misting bottle.
CAT: Hey, this is mine. That's mine. All this is mine. I'm claiming
all this as mine. Except that bit. I don't want that bit. But all
the rest of this is mine. Hey, this has been a good day. I've eaten
five times, I've slept six times, and I've made a lot of things mine.
Tomorrow, I'm gonna see if I can't have *sex* with something. (Dancing
away) Oooooooooow, yeaaaaaaah...
7 Int. Corridor 159.
LISTER is still unconscious on the floor as the CAT dances up the
corridor toward him.
CAT: (Singing) S-E-X, you know I want it! S-E-X, I'm gonna get it!
(Seeing LISTER) S-E-X, I think I found it! (Recognizes LISTER and
crouches down beside him.) Oh, it's you! Hey, monkey, you're sick.
Sick, helpless, and unconscious. If you weren't my friend, I'd steal
your shoes. (Sprays LISTER with the misting bottle and stands up.)
Time for a snack. This way. (Dances away.)
HOLLY: Emergency. There's an emergency going on. It's still going on.
It's still an emergency. Will Arnold Rimmer please hurry to White
Corridor 159. This is an emergency announcement.
8 Int. Dining area.
The CAT stands at a food dispenser.
CAT: Food!
DISPENSING MACHINE: Today's specialty is Chicken Meringue.
A chicken meringue with dinner rolls drops into the dispensing shelf.
The CAT takes it and dances to a table.
CAT: (Singing) I'm gonna eat you little chickie. I'm gonna eat you
little chickie. I'm gonna eat you little chickie.
He flicks the chicken off the table to one side, catching it before it
hits the ground.
CAT: Uh uh, too slow, chicken merango. Too slow for this cat.
He places the chicken back on his plate, looks away, and flicks the
chicken off the other side, onto the floor
CAT: Hey! This chicken is faster than I thought!
He retrieves the chicken.
RIMMER: (Running into the room) Quick! Lister's fainted! He needs help!
Quick!
The CAT jumps up as if to follow, prompting RIMMER to run back out, at
which point the CAT sits back down again.
RIMMER: (Runs back in) Didn't you hear me? Didn't anyone hear me?
Lister's in trouble. The monkey, oo oo oo, has fainted. I can not
pick him up. Quick! Come on! Now!
The CAT jumps up again, RIMMER runs back out, and the CAT sits back down.
RIMMER: (Walks back in.) Is there something wrong with you? Lister's
collapsed!
CAT: Yeah?
RIMMER: What do you mean "yeah?" He needs help!
CAT: And?
RIMMER: And if you don't help him he might die.
CAT: Aw, no. That's too bad. I really liked him, too.
RIMMER: So, come and help him.
CAT: What? And interrupt my lunch?!
RIMMER: What is more important: a man's life or your smegging lunch?
CAT: That doesn't even deserve an answer.
RIMMER: Right. Okay. Fine. (Pointing to the scutters) You come with
me. You get a stretcher.
The CAT juggles his dinner rolls, sticks one in his mouth and holds the
other two over his eyes.
9 Int. Medical unit.
LISTER is sitting in a wheelchair, wrapped in his blanket. RIMMER stands
beside the medicomp, a medical computer. One of the scutters is on a
counter, holding a thermometer.
RIMMER: (Directing the scutter) Down. Down. Okay, stop.
LISTER: Let the medicomp take me temperature.
RIMMER: Lister, they've got to learn. Down, down, slowly now. Ah ah,
now very, very, very slowly forward.
The scutter jabs the thermometer into LISTER's eye.
LISTER: AIGH! Me eye!
RIMMER: Lister, they've got to learn.
LISTER: I just nearly lost an eye!
RIMMER: How about an anal reading?
LISTER: I'm all right! I feel fine now.
RIMMER: Well, you're not fine. And it's your own smegging fault for
going up to the Officer's Deck before it was decontaminated.
LISTER: I just wanted to have a look around.
RIMMER: You just wanted to go into Kochanski's quarters and wallow in
self-pity. And look what's it got you!
LISTER: I'm all right. I've got a touch of pneumonia. That's all.
RIMMER: It's not pneumonia. Three million years ago it was pneumonia but
since then it's bred and mutated and now we don't know what it is.
LISTER: Why didn't I ask her out? What's the worst she could've said?
RIMMER: She could've said, "No, you're a filthy, stinking, loathsome,
disgusting object I wouldn't be seen dead with in a plague pit."
LISTER: She could've said, "yes." Stranger things have happened!
RIMMER: Only two spring to mind, Lister: the spontaneous combustion of
the Mayor of Warsaw in 1546 and that incident in 12th century Burgandy
when it rained herring.
LISTER: There's this theory that Chen used to have. It's like everyone's
got two people inside you. You've got your confidence and paranoia.
And your confidence's the guy who goes, "Hey you're great. You're dead
sexy! Everybody loves you!" And your paranoia says, "You're stupid.
You're useless. You're ugly. And everybody hates you."
RIMMER: (Looking at the medicomp) That's odd, Lister. According to this
reading, you're clinically dead.
LISTER: And what had happened was my confidence was just about to
persuade me to ask Kochanski out and as I was walking up to her he'd go
on a business trip to Hawaii or something and I'd be left with my
paranoia saying, "You must be joking. She's gonna laugh in our face."
RIMMER: You know, sometimes, Lister, you can be quite perceptive and
thought-provoking. And other times, like this, you can rant and drivel
on like a complete loonie.
LISTER: Just take me to me bed.
RIMMER: All right, Lister. (To the scutter on the floor) Okay, you know
how it works. Now release the mechanism very, very, very gently.
The scutter flicks a switch and LISTER and his wheelchair zip across the
room and crash into a table.
RIMMER: Possibly a gnat's more gently than that.
10 Int. Sleeping quarters.
LISTER is lying in bed, having an nightmare. RIMMER is standing in front
of the mirror, practising the Full-Rimmer, Triple-Rimmer, and a Two-
Handed-Rimmer salute.
LISTER: (In his sleep) Quick! Get an umbrella. Get an umbrella. Quick,
get an umbrella. Get an umbrella. Cor! Ungh...
RIMMER: (Reading from a poster tacked over the sink) "Necrobics,
Hologrammatic Exercises for the Dead."
LISTER: It's raining. It's raining down. Get an umbrella! It's
raining. It's raining.
RIMMER clenches up his face and starts rolling his head around.
Something falls from the ceiling. Another one falls. RIMMER opens his
eyes to see herring falling from the ceiling. He stares in amazement as
more and more herring start to rain down from the ceiling. RIMMER backs
out of the room.
11 Int. Corridor 159.
RIMMER continues to back out of the room. There's no fish falling
outside of the room.
RIMMER: Holly, what's going on?
HOLLY: What?
RIMMER: What's happening?
HOLLY: Um, Hercule Poirot's just stepped off the steaming train. And if
you want my opinion, I think they all did it.
RIMMER: Why did we have to have you as the ship's computer? We'd be
better off with a bucket of sheep's slop running things.
HOLLY: If you've got a complaint, just come straight out with it. Don't
hide behind innuendo and hyperbole.
RIMMER: Why is it raining fish in our sleeping quarters?!
HOLLY: I'd be lying if I said I knew. The only comparable incident on
record is in 12th century Burgandy when it rained herring.
The Mayor of Warsaw walks up to RIMMER, ringing a bell. He stops, then
spontaneously combusts in a flash, leaving only a pile of clothes behind.
RIMMER: It really is gonna be one of those days.
12 Model shot.
Red Dwarf in space.
13 Int. Sleeping quarters.
LISTER lying in bed. The CAT struts in with a silvery shopping bag.
CAT: Hey! You're awake!
LISTER: Yeah, I've just woke up.
CAT: Yeah, well, I've brought you some presents!
LISTER: Aw, you shouldn't have bothered.
CAT: Ha ha! Well, I'm that kind of guy! Hey, let's see what we've got
in the magic bag here! I got you some grapes! (Holds up the bare
stems of an ex-bunch of grapes.) And I got you got you an orange!
(Holds up an orange peel.)
LISTER: Thanks a lot.
CAT: That's all right. Hey, well, all this enormous generosity has made
me tired. I'm going to bed. (Takes LISTER's pillow and blanket and
lies down on the bottom bunk.) Ah, yes, indeedy.
RIMMER walks in.
RIMMER: (To LISTER) You're awake.
CAT: Yeah, but I'll be asleep in a minute.
RIMMER: (To LISTER) How do you feel?
CAT: Fine. Just don't ask me anymore questions. I'm trying to sleep!
RIMMER: (To the CAT) Shut up! You stupid moggey! And out of that bed!
CAT: (Getting out of bed) Well, if you're going to speak to me like that,
I'm gonna take my presents back! (Grabs the bag and heads for the
door.)
RIMMER: (To LISTER) How do you feel?
CAT: (Walking out the room) Hurt!
LISTER: I feel great.
RIMMER: Listen, Lister, you had a fever, okay?
LISTER: Yeah?
RIMMER: And, you started to hallucinate, all right?
LISTER: Yeah?
RIMMER: Only your hallucinations... were solid.
LISTER: What do you mean, "solid?"
RIMMER: I mean they were real, alive, solid.
LISTER: Solid?
RIMMER: Solid.
LISTER: What do you mean, "they were solid?"
RIMMER: Okay, I'll put it another way. You had hallucinations, all
right?
LISTER: Yeah?
RIMMER: And they were solid. I told you it wasn't ordinary pneumonia. I
told you it was mutated. I knew something like this would happen.
LISTER: Okay, well, what did I hallucinate?
RIMMER: Well, first of all, it was fish rain.
LISTER: Fish rain? Yeah, I dreamt that!
RIMMER: Well, it actually happened!
LISTER: Where's all the fish?
CAT: (Sticking his head in the door) Somebody ate them!
RIMMER: Then, the Mayor of Warsaw spontaneously combusted. And then you
hallucinated two men in the Drive Room.
LISTER: What two men?
RIMMER: Apparently, one of them's your confidence and the other's your
paranoia.
14 Int. Drive room.
CONFIDENCE is a bulky man in loud yellow plaids, gold chains, and slicked
back hair. He is eating a steak on the central station. PARANOIA is a
scrawny, stooped, sunken-eyed man in a black suit, sitting at a work
station, eating a yogurt and sneering at CONFIDENCE.
LISTER and RIMMER walk in.
CONFIDENCE: (Jumping up) Hey! It's the king! (Kisses LISTER.) Mr.
Beautiful! (To RIMMER) Hey, you, what does the "H" stand for? Horace?
A chair for the king, Horace. And breakfast. Mr. Wonderful wishes to
dine. (Guiding LISTER to a chair) Have you lost weight? You're
looking great. (To the others) Is he totally perfect or what?
LISTER: (Grinning widely) You're my confidence?
CONFIDENCE: I just love that accent. It makes me go all quibbley!
LISTER: I don't get it. You look like the manager of the London Jets but
you sound like Bing Baxter, the American quiz show host.
CONFIDENCE: (Smiles.) I'm all the things you associate with confidence,
King.
LISTER: (To PARANOIA) And you're my paranoia?
PARANOIA: Isn't that a urine stain on the front of your trousers?
LISTER: What? (Looks at this groin.) No, it isn't. It's tea.
PARANOIA: (Approaching LISTER) So how are you anyway? Isn't that a huge
spot appearing on your so-called face? My god, you've got fat, haven't
you? Must be all that lager. Bet you've got a terminal disease.
Always happens to the people who least expect it. Don't you find that?
Say "hello," then, won't you? (Walking back to his seat) I'm only
trying to be friendly.
LISTER is looking decidedly worried.
CONFIDENCE: (To LISTER) Baby, baby, what can I say? (To the others) Is
he the greatest, most fantasic, most handsome guy ever, or am I insane?
RIMMER: (To CONFIDENCE) You're insane. (To LISTER) Lister, what are you
going to do about them?
LISTER: Do? What can I do?
RIMMER: I think we should arrest them.
LISTER: What for?
RIMMER: For being hallucinations.
LISTER: Come on, smeghead. It's a bit of company, isn't it?
RIMMER: Lister, you're still sick. These two are symptoms of your
disease. They're like the spots in measles, the swellings in mumps,
the funny walk in cystitis. Until they're gone, you won't be better.
CONFIDENCE: Hey, now I know what the "H" stands for. "Hidiot!" Am I
right? Heh heh heh!
RIMMER: (To CONFIDENCE) You are treading on a very thin line, me laddo.
The "H" stands for "Hologram." I happen to be dead.
CONFIDENCE: Couldn't happen to a more deserving guy. (To LISTER) Come
on, King. Forget those losers. Let's go party.
RIMMER: No, I forbid it!
LISTER: Why?
PARANOIA: Why do you never listen to Mr. Rimmer? He's so much more
experienced, more level-headed, so much... better than you.
CONFIDENCE: (Putting an arm around LISTER) Hey! No one is better than
Mr. Magnificent! And no one tells the Prince of Charisma what to do.
Right, Prince?
LISTER: (Smiling) Yeah, right!
CONFIDENCE: That's my Davey-boy! Oohoo!
CONFIDENCE leads LISTER out of the room.
RIMMER: I don't believe it, he's socializing with a figment of his
imagination.
PARANOIA: Yes.
RIMMER makes a pained expression at PARANOIA's back.
15 SFX view of space.
Lots of dust swirls around.
HOLLY: (VO) Please note the dust storm approaching. The surface of the
ship is now out of bounds. All air locks are being automatically
sealed. Estimated duration: eighteen hours.
16 Int. Sleeping quarters.
CONFIDENCE listens as LISTER strums discordantly at his guitar.
LISTER: (Singing) ...our love I tried to kindle, like firelight it...
dwindled, now I wonder when this... wind'll ever... stop-----.
CONFIDENCE: (Incredulously) You wrote that?
LISTER: Yeah, but that was ages ago, you know.
CONFIDENCE: That is the greatest love song ever.
LISTER: Come on!
CONFIDENCE: Ever! It's so deep! All the images! The dwindling, the
kindling, all the -indling! I love all that stuff! When I think
there's fast buck merchants like Bee-toven and Mozart out there
grabbing all the publicity and here's you, writing pieces of that
caLEEber, it makes me feel weak.
LISTER: (Noticing CONFIDENCE is putting a cigarette butt in his pocket)
What are you doing with that cigarette butt?
CONFIDENCE: Oh, you've embarrassed me now. It's just that, your lips
have touched it. Your lips! The King's kissing lips! And I just
wanted some proof that I'd actually met the Duke of Deliciousness!
LISTER: You're serious, aren't you?
CONFIDENCE: Serious about what?
LISTER: I'm a nobody! Out of a hundred and sixty-nine people aboard this
ship, I ranked one-six-nine. Bottom of the pile.
CONFIDENCE: That's because you didn't want all that career stuff. You
wanted your farm on Fiji with you-know-who. (Holds up a Polaroid of
Kochanski.)
LISTER: If she'd've come.
CONFIDENCE: If? IF?! And turn down the opportunity of becoming the envy
of all womankind?
LISTER: Oh, we'll never know now.
CONFIDENCE: Why not?
LISTER: She's dead.
CONFIDENCE: So? So's Rimmer. Bring her back.
LISTER: I can't. Holly can only sustain one hologram and Rimmer's hidden
all the other personality disks.
CONFIDENCE: So? Find them.
LISTER: I can't.
CONFIDENCE: King. You can do anything! Anything!
17 Int. Drive room.
PARANOIA and RIMMER are talking together.
PARANOIA: ...anything. He can't do anything.
RIMMER: Oh, I know, I know. I'll bet five.
PARANOIA: Do you know he used to practice kissing on his own?
RIMMER: How?
PARANOIA: (Demonstrating) He made lips out of one hand and waggled his
thumb through the gap, like a tongue.
RIMMER: That is priceless! It really is.
PARANOIA: Seventeen years old and he used to snog his own hand. Once, in
front of the whole school, he called his gym teacher "Daddy."
A scutter rolls in a door behind PARANOIA, holding a syringe.
PARANOIA: I could've died with embarrassment.
RIMMER: (Leaning closer to PARANOIA, trying to keep him distracted) Oh,
what a silly thing to call a gym master.
PARANOIA: I'm racked with guilt. I hate him.
RIMMER: Why do you hate him? Why do you talk about him so much?
PARANOIA: Because he makes my life one big, humiliating, cringe-making,
guilt-ridden hell!
RIMMER: (Shouting to the scutter) NOW! STAB HIM! STAB HIM! STAB HIM!
QUICK! STAB HIM!
PARANOIA turns to look at the scutter which has hardly moved.
RIMMER: (To PARANOIA) Uh, you haven't met "Stabem," have you? He's one
of the scutters. Stabem, meet Lister's paranoia. Lister's paranoia,
this is Stabem.
The scutter drops the syringe and tries to shake hands with PARANOIA.
LISTER and CONFIDENCE walk in through the opposite door.
LISTER: Yo, Rimmer, listen, we've been thinking. We think we can get
Kochanski back without turning you off.
PARANOIA: Oh, he's drunk. Yes. I can smell it from here.
LISTER: All we have to do is turn off all non-essential power systems and
Holly says it'll work.
CONFIDENCE: (Holding a lightbulb over LISTER's head) Ding dong! Another
great idea from the people who brought you Beeeeer Milkshakes!
PARANOIA: How can you be so obsessed with a girl you hardly know?
CONFIDENCE: Hardly know, sir? You haven't heard the "-indling" song!
(Singing) Our love I tried to kindle--
LISTER: Not now!
RIMMER: Lister, you're not having her disk.
LISTER: Why? Because she'll rank above you?
PARANOIA: But she's a bright, good-looking, intelligent, witty, upwardly-
mobile officer. Why should she be interested in you?
RIMMER: Yes! Why should she be interested in you?
LISTER: Yeah, why should she be interested in me?
CONFIDENCE: Hmm? Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about that song. I
can't get it out of my head. Why? Because you're great! You're an
incredibly seductive, charming, charismatic, young stud!
LISTER: Oh, yeah! I forgot. That's why she'd be interested in me.
RIMMER: Lister, you're not having her disk or any disk.
CONFIDENCE: Come on, King, you know Rimmer. Where would he hide 'em?
LISTER: I don't know.
CONFIDENCE: Yes, you do.
PARANOIA: No, he doesn't.
CONFIDENCE: Come on, think "Winner!"
LISTER: Outside. Outside the ship.
RIMMER: Uh... Wrong, actually!
CONFIDENCE: Where outside?
LISTER: Well, he'd have to send the scutters... and the disks would have
to be safe.
RIMMER: Wrong, wrong, absolutely brimming over with wrong-ability.
LISTER: And they'd have to be right under me nose he could laugh at me.
RIMMER: Wrong and getting wronger all the time.
LISTER: Outside out sleeping quarters. The solar panel outside our
sleeping quarters!
RIMMER: You followed me, you goit!
LISTER: Is that where they are?! That's incredible! I did it!
18 Int. Medical unit.
The medicomp is smashed apart. The bits are smoking, flashing, and
making odd "broken" sounds.
RIMMER: (Walks in and sees the broken medicomp.) Lister?
19 Model shot.
Red Dwarf is going through a huge dust storm.
20 Int. Drive room. Later.
LISTER is wearing a spacesuit, holding the helmet under his arm.
LISTER: How long now, Hol?
HOLLY: Can't be long now, Dave. Hercule has got all the suspects in one
room and I'm only too pages away from "Also by the same author."
LISTER: No, Holly. The dust storm.
HOLLY: Oh, that. Any time now, it's almost subsided.
CONFIDENCE: (Struts in wearing a spacesuit.) Yeah, how's my baby boy?
Oh, look! You've got a body like a coat hanger! How can you make a
spacesuit look like evening wear?
RIMMER: (Walking in) Let me ask you one question?
LISTER: It's no use arguing, Rimmer. I'm going.
RIMMER: Who smashed up the medicomp?
CONFIDENCE: He's stalling, King. Let's go.
RIMMER: Holly, give him a punch up.
The image of the smoldering medicomp appears on one of the monitors.
LISTER: Look, what's in it for them, smashing up the medical unit?
RIMMER: Lister, come here. Come here. (LISTER walks up to him.
CONFIDENCE listens over LISTER's shoulder.) You are still sick.
LISTER: I feel great.
RIMMER: You will not... (Glances at CONFIDENCE.) You will not... (Glares
at CONFIDENCE) You will not be better until they've gone. They know
that and now they've stopped you getting any treatment. Where's
Paranoia?
CONFIDENCE: I don't know. Is it someplace near Uruguay? Heh heh heh!
Who is this joker?
RIMMER: Lister, they're germs and they're dangerous.
HOLLY: The storm has passed, Dave. Airlocks are now released.
CONFIDENCE: What are we waiting for, King?
LISTER: (Looks at RIMMER.) Nothing.
LISTER and CONFIDENCE head out.
RIMMER: Holly, put a trace on Paranoia.
HOLLY: What's a trace?
RIMMER: It's space jargon. It means find him.
HOLLY: No, it doesn't. You just made it up to be cool.
RIMMER: Where is he?
HOLLY: Paranoia is no longer aboard this ship.
21 Ext. Red Dwarf catwalk.
LISTER and CONFIDENCE are walking along a catwalk on the side of Red
Dwarf. Presumably near the sleeping quarters.
CONFIDENCE: Hey, look at that view, Kingo! Me and you, on top of the
world! Makes you wanna dance! Cha, cha cha, cha cha cha cha cha
cha,...
LISTER: (Finding the disks) Hey, here it is!
CONFIDENCE: Cha, cha cha, cha cha cha cha cha cha,...
LISTER: (Holding a disk box) Did you hear something?
CONFIDENCE: Nope. In space, no one can hear you cha-cha-cha!
LISTER: You don't think Paranoia could've got here first, do you?
CONFIDENCE: Forget him, he's no danger.
LISTER: He smashed up the medical unit.
CONFIDENCE: No, he didn't.
LISTER: What do you mean?
CONFIDENCE: I did!
LISTER: *You* did?
CONFIDENCE: So we can be together, Davey! You don't want to get cured.
I did it for you!
LISTER: So where did he go, then?
CONFIDENCE: I killed him. Cha-cha-cha...
LISTER: What do you mean, you "killed him, cha-cha-cha?!"
CONFIDENCE: Hey, don't look at me like that. He didn't suffer! I just
fed him into the waste grinder and flushed his bits into space.
LISTER: Look, I'm gonna go inside now. Gets a little bit hot, you could
get claustrophobic in these suits.
CONFIDENCE: Take your helmet off.
LISTER: (Backing away) What?!
CONFIDENCE: (Following LISTER) You're hot. Take your helmet off.
LISTER: I'll die!
CONFIDENCE: Why?
LISTER: There's no oxygen out here!
CONFIDENCE: Hey! Oxygen's for losers! Come on.
LISTER: I *need* oxygen!
LISTER has reached the end of the catwalk.
CONFIDENCE: You don't need anything, King. You're the King!
LISTER: You're crazy!
LISTER grabs the handrail and vaults around behind CONFIDENCE.
CONFIDENCE: Who told you you needed oxygen, huh? Some loser who was
trying to make you feel small. Look, I'll prove it to you. I'll take
mine off first. We'll soon see who the crazy one is around here!
CONFIDENCE removes his helmet.
LISTER: NO!!!
Almost immediately his body decompresses in a horrific explosion.
22 Int. Sleeping quarters.
The CAT has his clothes hung up on laundry lines around the room. RIMMER
whistles to himself.
RIMMER: Must you do this now?
CAT: I'm doing my laundry!
RIMMER: It's totally disgusting.
CAT: What's disgusting?
He proceeds to lick the collar of one of the shirts enthusiastically.
RIMMER: Lister.
LISTER: Yeah?
RIMMER: I just want to say, I was right all along. I said they were
germs and they were germs.
LISTER: Yeah, okay. So what?
RIMMER: And I'm just saying now, that disk will only bring you misery. I
just want you to remember that I said that.
LISTER: Look, if she comes back and she's not interested, I can handle
it.
RIMMER: Whatever, Lister. I want it on record: that disk is a one-way
ticket to Miseryville.
LISTER: Yeah, well, I spent enough time listening to me paranoia. Now
I'm gonna listen to me confidence. (Heads out with the disk.)
RIMMER executes a Full-Rimmer salute and heads out the door, humming a
marching tune. The CAT tries out the salute, waves it off, and then
dances out of the room.
23 Int. Holo projection suite.
LISTER is standing in front of the central station, looking at the disk.
LISTER: Hi, Krissie. It's not gonna work. Hello, Krissie. That's not
gonna work either. (Overly macho) Hey, yo, Krissie! (High and wimpy)
Hi... (He loads the disk into the simulator.)
RIMMER and the CAT walk in.
RIMMER: Lister, look, good luck. I mean it.
LISTER: Smeg off.
RIMMER: No, honestly, I mean it. Good luck.
LISTER: Okay, Hol. Switch it on.
On the other side of the room, another hologram of RIMMER appears.
RIMMER #2: Well, he did warn you.
RIMMER: I certainly did. (To LISTER) Do you honestly think I'd put
Kochanski's disk in Kochanski's box where any Munchkin could find it?
You think you had it bad before, Lister? Well now you've got it in
stereo, baby. (To RIMMER #2) Welcome aboard, Rimmsie.
RIMMER #2: Nice to be here, Mr. Rimmer, you son of a gun.
Credits:
Rimmer Chris Barrie
Lister Craig Charles
Cat Danny John-Jules
Holly Norman Lovett
Paranoia Lee Cornes
Confidence Craig Ferguson
Written by Bob Grant
Doug Naylor
Music Howard Goodall
Developed for Television by Paul Jackson Productions
Graphic Designer Mark Allen
Visual Effects Designer Peter Wragg
Prop Buyer Duncan Wheeler
Assistant Floor Manager Dona Distefano
Production Assistant Alison Thornber
Unit Manager Mario Dubois
Production Manager George R. Clarke
Costume Designer Jacki Pinks
Make-up Designer Suzanne Jansen
Vision Mixer Jill Dornan
Camera Supervisor Mike Jackson
Technical Co-ordinator John Spicer
Videotape Editor Ed Wooden
Lighting Director John Pomphrey
Sound Supervisor Tony Worthington
Designer Paul Montague
Executive Producer Paul Jackson
Producer & Director Ed Bye
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