Newsgroups: alt.tv.red-dwarf
Subject: RD Quotes File v1.1
From: robinson_m@kosmos.wcc.govt.nz
Reply-To: robinson_m@kosmos.wcc.govt.nz
===============================================================================
THE OFFICAL UNOFFICAL RED DWARF QUOTES FILE v1.1
-compiled from submissions from alt.tv.red-dwarf readers, and mine own efforts.
-comments, quotes, etc (no flames please) to ROBINSON_M@kosmos.wcc.govt.nz
===============================================================================
#NEEDS_CORRECTION
>From `Waiting For God':
Holly (quoting Capt. H.): "There's a saying amongst the officers; If
a job's worth doing, it's worth doing well. If it's not worth doing,
give it to Rimmer!"
#1_1
>From `The End':
Holly: Well, she [Kochanski] won't be much use to you on Fiji now -- not
unless it snows and you need something to grit the path with.
#1_1
>From `The End':
Lister: You see, I try and respect Rimmer, sir. I'm not an insubordinate man
by nature. I try and respect him and everything, but it's not easy
because he's such a smeghead.
Rimmer: Did you hear that, sir? Lister, do you have any conception of the
penalty for describing a superior technician as a smeghead?
Todhunter: Oh, Rimmer, you are a smeghead.
#1_1
>From `The End':
Lister: You didn't have the right parents? Whose parents did you have?
#1_1
>From `The End':
Petersen: Have you seen Rimmer's arm?
Chen: No, I'm waiting for it to come out in paperback!
#1_2
>From `Future Echoes':
Holly: I am Holly, the ship's computer, with an I.Q. of 6000 -- the same
I.Q. of 6000 P.E. teachers.
#1_2
>From `Future Echoes':
Rimmer: If you had two people coming for a job, and one of them was dead,
which one would you pick?
#1_2
>From `Future Echoes':
Rimmer: It will be happened; it shall be going to be happening; it will be
was an event that could will have been taken place in the future.
#1_3
>From `Balance of Power':
Cat: Fish!
Food machine: Today's fish is trout a la creme. Enjoy your meal!
Cat: Fish!
Food machine: Today's fish is trout a la creme. Enjoy your meal!
Cat: Fish!
Food machine: Today's fish is trout a la creme. Enjoy your meal!
Cat: Fish!
Food machine: Today's fish is trout a la creme. Enjoy your meal!
Cat: Fish!
Food machine: Today's fish is trout a la creme. Enjoy your meal!
Cat: Fish!
Food machine: Today's fish is trout a la creme. Enjoy your meal!
Cat: I will!
#1_5
>From `Confidence and Paranoia':
Holly: Emergency. Emergency. There's an emergency going on. It's still going
on. It's still an emergency. This is an emergency announcement.
#1_5
>From `Confidence and Paranoia':
Confidence: I killed him, cha cha cha.
Lister: What do you mean you killed him cha cha cha?
#1_5
>From `Confidence and Paranoia':
Confidence: Oxygen's for losers!
#1_5
>From `Confidence and Paranoia':
Cat: This is mine; that's mine [etc.]; 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'd made a lot of things mine! Tomorrow I'm going
to see if I can't have sex with something!
#1_5
>From `Confidence and Paranoia':
Lister: Love is what separates us from animals
Rimmer: No, Lister -- what separates us from animals is that we don't use our
tongues to clean our own genitals.
#1_6
>From `Me^2':
Lister: Ah, the Pop-Up Karma Sutra, Zero-Gravity Edition! That's mine.
#1_6
>From `Me^2':
Holly: Busy, Dave?
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, Hol, come on, come on.
Holly: They're from Earth.
Lister: Three million years away?
Holly: They're from the NorWEB federation.
Lister: What's that?
Holly: The North Western Electricity Board. They want you, Dave.
Lister: Me? Why? What for?
Holly: For your crimes against humanity.
Lister: You what!
Holly: It 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 all mouldy.
Holly: Your sausages, Dave, now cover seven-eighths of the Earth's
surface. Also you left seventeen pounds, fifty pence in a
bank account. Thanks to compound interest you now own
ninety-eight percent of all the world's wealth, but since
you've 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 Groucho Marx disguise) April fool.
Lister: But it's not April.
Holly: Yeah, I know, but I could hardly wait six months with a red-hot
jape like that under my belt.
#1_6
>From `Me^2':
(exiting a closet)
Cat: He won't find that one -- not until he changes his boots. (sees Lister,
hides his face) "Did you see him clearly? Did you get a good look at his
face? Could you spot him in a parade?" I don't think so -- that could
have been anybody!
#2_1
>From `Kryten':
(returns from getting tea, is told that the crew is dead)
Kryten: My god! But I was only away two minutes!
#2_1
>From `Kryten':
Lister: No way are these my boxer shorts -- these bend!
#2_1
>From `Kryten':
Holly: Nothing wrong with dog's milk: full of goodness; full of vitamins;
full of marrow-bone jelly! Lasts longer than any other type of
milk, dog's milk.
Lister: Why's that?
Holly: No bugger will drink it!
#2_1
>From `Kryten':
Lister: `Mr Arnold' isn't even his name. His name's `Rimmer'; or `Smeghead';
or `Dinosaur breath'; or `Molecule Mind'. And if you want to be
really mega-polite to him, Kryten -- we're talking mega-mega-polite --
on those rare and exceptional circumstances, you can call him
`Arsehole'.
#2_1
>From `Kryten':
Rimmer: You? How did you get into art college?
Lister: The normal way you get into art college, the same old usual boring
normal way you get in: I failed my exams and applied -- they snapped
me up!
#2_2
>From `Better Than Life':
Cat: I'm going to eat you little fishie; I'm going to eat you little fishie;
I'm going to eat you little fishie; 'cause I like eating fish!
#2_2
>From `Better Than Life':
Rimmer: The lamb was a bit of a flop, though.
Lister: The lamb? Everyone thought the lamb was the cheese! And that lemon
meringue pie, man -- what was in that?
Rimmer: I thought you liked that -- you brought some back.
Lister: Yeah, I wanted to try some on my athlete's foot!
#2_2
>From `Better Than Life':
Lister: Rimmer, real dumplings, proper dumplings, when they're properly
cooked to perfection, proper dumplings should not bounce!
#2_2
>From `Better Than Life':
Cat: My stomach has been pumped and now I'm hungry! Man, I just
/have/ to eat!
Lister: Rimmer's dad has died.
Cat: Well, I'd prefer chicken.
#2_2
>From `Better Than Life':
Rimmer's Father: I just wanted to tell you...
Rimmer: Yes?
Rimmer's Father: I just wanted to say...
Rimmer: Yes?
Rimmer's Father: I just wanted to say...you're a total smeghead!
Rimmer: What?! This isn't my fantasy!
Cat: No -- it's mine.
#2_3
>From `Thanks for the Memory':
Rimmer: How about: breaking your leg hurts like hell, right? `Hel'. They
do it beLOW the knee -- lo -- `Hello'; get it? They do it twice --
two -- `Hello to', and the jigsaw must mean `you': `Hello to you'!
Cat: I wouldn't like to be around when one of these suckers is making a
speech!
#2_3
>From `Thanks for the Memory':
Holly: Ahead groove factor 5! Yeah!
#2_4
>From `Stasis Leak':
Holly: It's better to have loved and to have lost than to listen to an album
by Olivia Newton-John.
Cat: Why's that?
Holly: Anything's better than listening to an album by Olivia Newton-John.
#2_4
>From `Stasis Leak':
Cat: What is it?
Rimmer: It's a rent in the space-time continuum.
Cat: What is it?
Lister: The stasis room freezes time, you know, makes time stand
still. So whenever you have a leak, it must preserve
whatever it's leaked into, and it's leaked into this room.
Cat: What is it?
Rimmer: It's singularity, a point in the universe where the normal
laws of space and time don't apply.
Cat: What is it?
Lister: It's a hole back into the past.
Cat: Oh, a magic door! Well, why didn't you say?
#2_4
>From `Stasis Leak':
Holly: I was in love once -- a Sinclair ZX-81. People said, "No, Holly,
she's not for you." She was cheap, she was stupid and she wouldn't
load -- well, not for me, anyway.
#2_5
>From `Queeg':
Holly: Additional: Our biggest enemy is going space crazy through loneliness.
The only thing that helps me maintain my slender grip on reality is
the friendship I share with my collection of singing potatoes.
#2_5
>From `Queeg':
Rimmer: You're about as much use as a condom machine in the Vatican.
#2_5
>From `Queeg':
Lister: Shouldn't this cable go somewhere?
Holly: Yes, connect it to the blue cable.
--- Lister electrocuted ---
Holly: ...or was that the yellow cable? Yes, it should have been the
yellow cable.
#2_5
>From `Queeg':
Lister: I had this Geography teacher, Miss Foster. She took us on a school
summer camp trip to the Ganwee. I had the tent next to hers, right.
And in the middle of the night I was woken up by this really weird
noise. /She/ didn't think men were better than machines.
#2_5
>From `Queeg':
Cat: Look at my hands! I had lovely hands!
Lister: Well, wear the smegging gloves!
Cat: Marigold with blue? Are you crazy?
#2_5
>From `Queeg':
Lister: Look at what he's given me for dinner: a pea on toast. One pea.
I tell you, I'm that far from cracking. (goes to squish the pea;
it snaps away) I've lost my pea! Oh, that's it! I've cracked.
Rimmer: He's just doing this to destroy your morale.
Lister: Is he? Well, I want my pea back. It's my pea. I earned that pea.
Where is it? I don't care if it's on the floor all covered in fluff,
if it's under the bed with my toenail clippings, I don't care where
it is -- it's my pea, I earned it, and I'm going to eat it no matter
what!
Rimmer: It flew off into your dirty-sock basket.
Lister: I'll just have the toast.
#2_5
>From `Queeg':
Cat: If it's any help, I've been studying his tactics and there's a pattern
emerging: Every time you make a move, he makes one too (winks to
Holly).
Holly: (winks back) Thanks, Cat.
#2_5
>From `Queeg':
Holly: We are talking Jape of the Decade. We are talking April, May, June,
July, and August, fool. Yes, that's right -- I am Queeg.
Rimmer, Lister, Cat: WHAT?!!!!!!
#2_6
>From `Parallel Universe':
Lister: Come on, what are you: a man or a munchkin?
Rimmer: I'm off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz.
#2_6
>From `Parallel Universe':
Dog: I tell you what: I'm gonna smell your behind, then you can smell mine!
Now is that a deal?
Cat: You want to smell my WHAT?
#2_6
>From `Parallel Universe':
Lister: That's rich, you know, coming from Miss Yo-Yo Knickers.
#3_1
>From `Backwards':
"You are a stupid, square-headed, bald git, aren't you, eh? [there is a cut
here] I'm pointing at you, yes, I'm pointing at you, but I'm not actually
addressing you; I'm addressing the one prat in the country who thought he
could get hold of this recording, turn it round, and actually work out the
rubbish that I'm saying. What a poor, sad life he's got! [there is a cut
here] Frankly, your act's crap, anyway -- anybody could have had it. I hate
the lot of you! Bollocks to you!"
{NB: Said by the club manager, backwards -- don't look for it}
#3_1
>From `Backwards':
[Lister and Cat rapping]
"We didn't come here looking for trouble
We just came to do the Red Dwarf Shuffle
He's smart..."
#3_1
>From `Backwards':
Cat: Is that what I think it is?
Lister: What d'you think it is?
Cat: An orange whirly thing in space!
#3_2
>From `Marooned':
Rimmer: But that was a barroom brawl, that was a common pub fight,
a shambolic drunken set-to.
Lister: ...which you started.
Rimmer: I just made an innocuous comment. I merely voiced the rumour that
McWilliams was sexually tilted in favour of sleeping with the dead.
I didn't start the rumour; I merely voiced it.
Lister: ...to his face -- right to his face...when he was with his four
biggest mates. And then you do your roadrunner act and leave /me/
to face the music.
Rimmer: Well, I could have got hurt!
Lister: You'd have made a brilliant general, wouldn't you?
#3_3
>From `Polymorph':
Rimmer: What about the Rimmer Directive, which states, "Never tangle with
anything that's got with more teeth than the entire Osmond family"?
#3_3
>From `Polymorph':
Genny: You know, you're probably the best-looking guy I've ever seen.
Cat: Well, I wasn't going to be the first to say it.
Genny: Do you know what I'd really like?
Cat: Hmm?
Genny: I'd really like to make love to a guy like you.
Cat: Well, I'm sure I have a window in my schedule somewhere. Let's see,
er, what are you doing in, say, ten seconds time?
Genny: Nothing I couldn't cancel. (licks teeth)
Cat: Hi, I'm the Cat.
Genny: Hi, I'm the Genetic Mutant.
Cat: Glad to know you ... Genny who?
#3_3
>From `Polymorph':
Lister: Lemon juice? (holds up canister)
Cat: What the hell is that?
Lister: It's a syringe.
Cat: What kind of syringe?
Lister: It's for cows -- artificial insemination.
#3_3
>From `Polymorph':
Cat: This isn't a meal -- this is an autopsy!
#3_3
>From `Terrorform':
Rimmer: Erm, I think we're all beginning to lose sight of the real issue
here, which is "What are we going to call ourselves?" erm, and
I think it comes down to a choice between `The League Against
Salivating Monsters' or my own personal preference, which is
`The Committee for the Liberation and Integration of Terrifying
Organisms and their Rehabilitation Into Society'. Erm, one
drawback with that -- the abbreviation is `CLITORIS'.
#3_5
>From `Timeslides':
Kryten: We could go to Dallas in November, 1963, stand on the grassy knoll
and shout "Duck!" ... I'm sorry; I must have bypassed my Good Taste
Chip.
#3_5
>From `Timeslides':
Lister: The wacked-out crazy hippy drummer is called Dobbin. He joined the
police force in the end -- became a Grand Wizard in the Freemasons.
The bass is called Gazza. He was a neo-marxist nihilistic anarchist.
Eventually he joined a large insurance company and got his own parking
space.
#3_5
>From `Timeslides':
Cat: Look at that collar! You could go hang gliding!
#3_5
>From `Timeslides':
Kryten: Pub: ah, yes, a meeting place where people attempt to reach
advanced states of mental incompetence by the repeated consumption
of fermented vegetable drinks.
#3_5
>From `Timeslides':
Holly: Ah, got him: `Tension Sheet, inventor of, Dave Lister, aged 17.'
Rimmer: Damn!
Holly: And he died tragically in a plane crash, aged 98.
Rimmer: 98!
Holly: His own fault, apparently -- he was making love to his 14th wife and
lost control of the plane.
Rimmer: Have you got any photographs?
Holly: Not of that, no!
#3_5
>From `Timeslides':
Blaize: Hello, and welcome to `The Lifestyles of the Disgustingly Rich and
Famous.' Tonight we will be looking at the world's youngest
billionare, Mr. Dave `Tension Sheet' Lister. Behind me, Mr. Lister's
English mansion; he had the whole building transported brick by brick
from half a mile down the road just to get away from the neighbours.
Now that's the kind of cash that opens anybody's legs! The gravel in
his drive came from Buckingham Palace. Dave bought Buck Palace and
had it ground down just to line his drive. This man has a wad so
thick you could use it to beat whales to death. He calls his home
`Xanadu' not in reference to the famous movie `Citizen Kane', but as
a tribute to the hit single by Dave, Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick, and Tish.
But Dave has musical aspirations of his own. Only last year his first
single, `Om', shot to No. 1 when he personally purchased three million
copies. You'll never be short of an ashtray in his house. Like many
people who appear to have everything, Dave's life has been tinged with
tragedy. Well, actually it hasn't, but we can only hope.
#3_5
>From `Timeslides':
Rimmer: Kryten, unpack Rachel and get out the puncture repair kit. I'm
ALIVE!!!!! (smashes his hands on crates of explosives and is blown to bits)
#3_6
>From `The Last Day':
Rimmer: Kryten, isn't it about this time your head goes back to the lab for
re-tuning?
#3_6
>From `The Last Day':
Kryten: Damage control report: Dehydration level 45%; Recall of previous
evening 2%; Embarrassment factor 91%! Advise repair schedule:
Reboot startup disk, offline for 36 hours and replace head.
Boy! What a night!
#3_6
>From `The Last Day':
Lister: We're on a mining ship, three million years into deep space. Can
someone explain to me where the smeg I got this traffic cone?
Cat: Hey, it's not a good night unless you get a traffic cone! It's the
policewoman's helmet and the suspenders I don't understand!
#3_6
>From `The Last Day':
Kryten: No Silicon Heaven? Preposterous! Where would all the calculators go?
#4_1
>From `Camille':
Kryten: It's a small, off-duty Czechoslovakian traffic warden!
#4_1
>From `Camille':
Kryten: Camille looks like your sister-in-law? What happened? Was she
involved in some kind of horrific car accident?
Rimmer: Who? Janine? No, of course not -- she was a model!
Kryten: And she looked like Camille?
Rimmer: Absolutely! The resemblance is uncanny!
Kryten: What did she model? Spark plugs?
#4_1
>From `Camille':
Kryten: You'll like them ... well, some of them ... well, one of them ...
maybe.
#4_1
>From `Camille':
Kryten: Spin my nipple-nuts and send me to Alaska!
#4_1
>From `Camille':
Kryten: Smmeeeeeeggggggg heeeeaaaaaadddddd!
#4_1
>From `Camille':
Rimmer: He's got mad droid disease. He kept waving a banana in front of me
and calling it a female aardvark.
#4_1
>From `Camille':
Kryten: The way the light catches the angles of your head -- most enchanting.
#4_1
>From `Camille':
Kryten: It's the old, old story:
Droid meets Droid,
Droid becomes Chameleon,
Droid loses Chameleon,
Chameleon turns into Blob,
Droid gets Blob back again,
Blob meets Blob,
Blob goes off with Blob,
and Droid loses Blob, Chameleon, and Droid.
How many times have we seen that story?
#4_2
>From `D.N.A.':
Lister: Any problems?
Kryten: Well, just one or two. In fact I've compiled a little list if
you'll indulge me. Now then, uh, my optical system doesn't
appear to have a zoom function.
Lister: No, human eyes don't have a zoom.
Kryten: Well then, how do you bring a small object into sharp focus?
Lister: Well, you just move your head closer to the object.
Kryten: I see. Move your head ... closer, hmm, to the object. All
right, okay. Well, what about other optical effects, like split
screen, slow motion, Quantel[tm]?
Lister: No. We don't have them.
Kryten: You don't have them -- just the zoom? Hmm. Well, no, that's
fine, that's great, no, no, that's really great, that's great.
Now then, my nipples don't work.
Lister: Er, in what way `don't work'?
Kryten: Well, uh, when I was a mechanoid, the right nipple-nut was used
to, uh, regulate body temperature, while the left nipple-nut
was used mainly to, uh, pick up shortwave radio transmissions.
Now, what I'm saying is, no matter how hard I twiddle it, I can't
seem to pick up Jazz FM.
Lister: Human nipples don't do that, Kryte.
Kryten: I see. Fine. Ah: recharging. Now, I presume that, uh, when a
human wants to recharge they do it much the same way mechanoids
do. Indeed, I have located what I presume to be the recharging
socket, but for some strange reason it doesn't appear to have the
standard three-pin adaption. Now, do I have to use some kind of
special adaptor? because, no matter what do, the lead just keeps
falling out.
Lister: Kryten, we eat and sleep: that's our way of recharging.
Kryten: Hmm. Ah yes, now, I wanted to talk to you about something.
Something about, um, well, something I know we humans get a
little embarrassed about. It's a bit of a taboo subject -- not
the sort of thing we like to sit around and chat about in polite
conversation.
Lister: Kryten, I'm an enlightened twenty-third century guy. Spit it
out, man.
Kryten: Well, I want to talk to you about my penis. I knew it,
you've gone straight into smirk mode. Aren't we both two
human adults? Can't we discuss our reproductive system
without adolecent sniggering?
Lister: Yeah, of course we can.
Kryten: Thank you. [hands Lister polaroid] Well?
Lister: `Well' what?
Kryten: Well, what do you think?
Lister: I'm not quite with you here, Kryten. What am I supposed to say?
Kryten: I want to know: is that normal?
Lister: What? Taking photographs of it and showing it to your mates?
No, it's not!
Kryten: Well, but is it supposed to look like that?
Lister: Well, yeah.
Kryten: It's hideous! That's the best design they could come up with?
Are you seriously telling me there were choices, and someone
said "Ah, there, that's it. That's the shape we're looking
for: The last-chicken-in-the-shop look"? Shakespeare had one?
Einstein? Perry Como sang `Memories are Made of This' with
one of those stashed in his slacks?
Lister: Well, yeah.
Kryten: No wonder humans don't have a zoom mode! Ugh. Now, take a
look at this [hands Lister polaroid. Lister rotates it
several times, perplexed] and this. [hands Lister second
polaroid. Lister holds them side-by-side, then top to bottom.
Sudden shock] Now why do you suppose that happened?
Lister: Wwwwwhat were you thinking of at the time?
Kryten: Well, nothing in particular, sir. I was just idly flicking
through an electrical-appliance catalogue. I came across the
section on super-deluxe vacuum cleaners and suddenly my
underpants elastic was catapulted across the medical bay.
Lister: You see, man, you're neither one thing or the other. You shouldn't
be getting erotic thoughts about electrical appliances.
Kryten: It /was/ a triple-bag easy-glide vac with turbo-suction and a
self-emptying dustbag.
Lister: Kryten, I don't care what model it was. No vacuum cleaner
should give a human being a double polaroid. Do yourself a
favour, man, change back.
Kryten: Back? Become one of those poor sappy sad-act mechanoids again?
This is my dream. Hey listen, listen, I've got a joke for
you. Now, how many mechanoids does it take to change a
lightbulb?
Lister: [sadly] I don't know.
Kryten: Twelve. And you know why?
Lister: [even sadder] Why?
Kryten: Because they're so stupid! Uhuhuhuhuh. Isn't that just the
greatest joke? Huhuh. I've got another one. Ever heard of
the mechanoid peeping-Tom? [Looks repeatedly, like a machine.]
Uhuhuhuhuh.
[Lister leaves. External shot with Kryten's laughs echoing]
[Later]
Cat: Man, this is a totally wacked-out idea. It's never going to
work.
Rimmer: That DNA machine can do anything. Why shouldn't it work? The
hard part was finding one of my dead cells.
Cat: You really think you can clone yourself from your own dandruff?
Rimmer: Why not? Dandruff has DNA in it. That machine has a clone
facility.
Cat: But a man made from dandruff? It's never going to work. The
first time you take a shower with medicated shampoo, you'll
disappear.
Rimmer: I won't be made of dandruff -- my body will be recreated from
the genetic pattern contained in its structure.
[Lister enters]
Cat: How's Kryten?
Lister: Confused. If he ever offers to show you his photo collection,
my advice is: decline, politely.
#4_2
>From `D.N.A.':
(shortly after Lister has been turned into a chicken)
Cat: The question is: Can we turn him back again?
Rimmer: The question is: Do we want to?
#4_2
>From `D.N.A.':
Rimmer: You're totally egocentric, you flee at the first sign of trouble,
you always look out for Number One, you're vain, you're narcissistic,
and you're self-obsessed.
Cat: You just listed all my best features!
#4_2
>From `D.N.A.':
(fighting the Mutton Vindaloo Beast)
Lister: Of course! Lager -- the only thing that can kill a vindaloo!
#4_3
>From `Justice':
Convict: You have no weapons?
Lister: No. You have no weapon?
Convict: No. [they advance] Guess what. [pulls out a knife] I lied.
Lister: Guess what. [pulls out a length of pipe] So did I.
Convict: But I lied ... [pulls out a gun] ... twice.
Lister: I didn't think of that.
#4_3
>From `Justice':
Cat: My god! His head burst!
#4_4
>From `White Hole':
(asserting that is isn't drunk)
Lister: I am not pished.
#4_4
>From `White Hole':
Talkie Toaster: Given that God is infinite, and that the Universe is also
infinite, would you like a toasted tea cake?
#4_4
Lister: We want no muffins, no toast, no tea cakes, no buns, baps, baggets
or bagels. No croissants, no crumpets, no pancakes, no potato cakes,
and no hot cross buns. And definitely no smegging flapjacks!
Toaster: Ah! So you're a waffle man!
#4_5
>From `Dimension Jump':
Mellie: If you're interested, I'll be in my quarters, covered in maple syrup.
Ace: Sorry, Mellie -- I don't fraternise with staff.
Mellie: I resign.
Ace: I'll be there at 1300.
#4_5
>From `Dimension Jump':
Ace: Sorry, Bongo, but lunch is ... on Mellie.
#4_5
>From `Dimension Jump':
Holly: Purple alert! Purple alert!
Lister: What's a purple alert?
Holly: Well, it's like not as bad as a red a alert, but a bit worse
than a blue alert -- sort of a mauve alert.
#4_5
>From `Dimension Jump':
Ace: Smoke me a kipper, skipper; I'll be back for breakfast.
#5_1
>From `Holoship':
Cat: What? Am I the only sane one here? Why don't we drop the
defensive shields?
Kryten: A superlative suggestion, sir, with just two minor flaws.
One: We don't have any defensive shields, and Two: We don't
have any defensive shields. Now, I realise that, technically
speaking, that's only one flaw, but I thought that it was such
a big one it was worth mentioning twice.
#5_1
>From `Holoship':
Binks: Binks to Enlightenment. Have arrived on the derelict. Confirm initial
speculation: there is absolutely nothing of any value or interest here.
It's one of the old Class II ship-to-surface vessels -- the very model,
in fact, that was withdrawn due to major flight design flaws. Crew:
three. One Series 4000 mechanoid, almost burnt out. Give it maybe three
years. Nothing of salvagable value. Ah, Felix Sapiens -- bred from the
domestic housecat, and about half as smart. No value in future study of
this species. What have we here? A human being, or a very close
approximation. Chronological age: mid-20s. Physical age: 47. Grossly
overweight, unnecessarily ugly, otherwise would recommend it for the
museum. Apart from that, of no value or interest.
Lister: Lister to Red Dwarf. We have in our midst a complete smegpot. Brains
in the anal region. Chin absent, presumed missing. Genitalia small
and inoffensive. Of no value or interest.
Binks: Binks to Enlightenment. Evidence of primitive humour. The human has
knowledge of irony, satire and imitation. With patient tuition could,
maybe, master simple tasks.
Lister: Lister to Red Dwarf. Displays evidence of spoiling for a rumble. Seems
unable to grasp simple threats. With careful pummelling could,
possibly, be sucking tomorrow's lunch through a straw.
Binks: Binks to Enlightenment. The human is under the delusion that he is
somehow able to bestow physical violence to a hologram.
Lister: Lister to Red Dwarf. The intruder seems to be blissfully unaware that
we have a rather sturdy holowhip in the munitions cabinet. Unless he
wants his derriere minced like burger meat, he'd better be history in
two seconds flat. (eats cigarette, removes his jacket)
Binks: Binks to Enlightment. Recon mission complete. Transmit. With speed.
Enlightment, quickly, please.
#5_1
>From `Holoship':
Rimmer: I thought it was the worst pile of blubbery schoolgirl mush I have
ever been forced to endure. I consider it an insult to my backside
to have to sit growing carbuncles through such putrid adolescent slush.
Kryten: You didn't find it uplifting?
...
Cat: Personally, I thought it started well, then fell apart. All that
stuff about the ducks getting into trouble was great, but then it
went black and white and I fell asleep.
Kryten: But, sir, that was the cartoon before the main programme!
#5_1
>From `Holoship':
(commenting on his opinion of `King of Kings; The Story of Jesus')
Rimmer: Well, its true -- a simple carpenters son who learns magic tricks like
that and /doesn't/ go into show business?
#5_1
>From `Holoship':
Kryten: They've taken Mr Rimmer! Sir, they've taken Mr Rimmer!
Cat: Quick! Let's get out of here before they bring him back!
#5_1
>From `Holoship':
(about the lack of a Sex Deck on Red Dwarf)
Nirvana: Well, what do you do when you want to have sex?
Rimmer: We ... go for runs? Watch gardening programmes on the ship's vid...
#5_1
>From `Holoship':
Nirvana: It was ... different.
Rimmer: Different?
Nirvana: You make love like a Japanese meal -- small portions but /so/ many
courses.
...
Nirvana: We usually talk.
Rimmer: What do you talk about?
Nirvana: Oh, research, new theories, mission profiles...
Rimmer: I'm sorry. I must seem very ignorant. I hardly said anything, apart
from `Geronimo'.
#5_1
>From `Holoship':
Lister: Rimmer, they're a bunch of arrogant, pompous, emotionally weird,
stuck-up megalomaniacs -- do you really think you'll fit in with
them? What am I saying? Bon voyage.
#5_1
>From `Holoship':
Kryten: Sir, I beg you to reconsider. If not for your sanity, you haven't
even considered the moral implications of your decision. You will
be joining a society where you will be compelled to have sex with
beautiful, brilliant women, twice daily, on demand. Now, am I really
the only one here who finds that just a little bit tacky?
#5_1
>From `Holoship':
(talking to Lister about Rimmer's mind patch)
Kryten: You must remember that he is operating on a completely different
level to us now. To him, we are the intellectual equivalent of
domestic science teachers.
#5_1
>From `Holoship':
Woman: I'd just like to get one thing clear in my mind. This is an
opportunity to be revived as a hologram and become a part of
the crew ... and the crew is you three. Basically, you spend
your time salvaging derelict spaceships, playing poker, and
eating curries.
Lister: We don't exactly do that much salvaging.
Woman: But you do sound like you eat a lot of curries.
Kryten: We don't eat curries every night, if that's what you mean. In fact,
I distinctly remember a time last June: Mr Lister had a pizza.
Lister: That's right.
Kryten: Remember? And you didn't like it. But then I poured curry sauce all
over it, and he just yummed it up!
Woman: And the all-night poker sessions: is it always /strip/ poker?
Lister: It all depends on how drunk we are.
Cat: Or how much curry he's had.
Woman: So, and this probably sounds like a stupid question, you don't have
much interest in horse riding or ballet?
Lister: Fine by us -- just so long as we can have a curry afterwards, we're
cool. Well, of course, there's one or two other people we have to
see, but, in theory, if offered the post of replacement hologram,
would you accept?
Woman: No. No, I think I'm better off where I am.
Cat: But you're dead!
Woman: And meeting you guys has really made me appreciate it a whole lot
more.
#5_1
>From `Holoship':
(making his goodbyes)
Rimmer: I just want to say: over the years, I have come to regard you as ...
people I met.
#5_1
>From `Holoship':
Rimmer: Oh, and, sir, you're wrong. We won't be apart -- we just won't be
together. [pauses, then cringes] I cannot believe I just said that!
#5_2
>From `Inquisitor':
Kryten: Ah, Virgil's Aeneid -- the epic tale of Agamemnon's pursuit of Helen
of Troy. The classic work by the greatest Latin poet who ever put
quill to parchment.
Lister: Yeah, it's the comic-book version.
#5_2
>From `Inquisitor':
Kryten: That is the Inquisitor. He prunes away the wastrels, expunges the
wretched, and deletes the worthless.
Rimmer: We're in big trouble.
#5_2
>From `Inquisitor':
Rimmer: Why did no-one mention this before? If I had been told about this
at the start, that the object was to lead a worthwhile life, I could
have done something about it. All those charity telethons when I used
ring in and pledge donations -- if I had known all this, I would have
given them /my/ credit card number.
Kryten: Sir, sir, you don't have to be a great philanthropist or a missionary
worker -- you simply have to seize the gift of life...
Rimmer: Oh god.
Kryten: ...make a contribution...
Rimmer: Oh god.
Kryten: ...no matter how small.
Rimmer: Oh god.
Kryten: You simply have to have led a life that wasn't totally egocentric,
vain and self serving.
Rimmer: You're doing this on purpose, aren't you!
Kryten: I'm just trying to make you feel better, sir.
Rimmer: Well, shut up, then!
#5_2
>From `Inquisitor':
NOTE: Inq=Inquisitor
Inq: Who is to be first?
Rimmer and Cat: Lister.
Inq: The hologram. You shall be first.
Rimmer: Pardon? Sir?
Inq: You have been granted the greatest gift of all: the gift of life. Tell
me: what have you done to deserve this superlative good fortune?
Rimmer: Well, I say this with the highest respect, but, what gives you the
right to ask -- no, actually to demand -- that answer of me, your
magnificence? (curtsies and bows)
Inq: All must answer to the Inquisitor.
Rimmer: But how do I know I'll get a fair hearing?
Inq: Because, like all who stand before the Inquisitor, your judge shall be
(lifts visor) yourself.
Rimmer: Oh smeg.
Inq: Oh smeg indeed, matey.
Rimmer: Everyone is judged by their own self?
Inq: It's a bit metaphysical, I know, but it's the only fair way.
Now then, justify yourself.
Rimmer: Well, first I--
Inq: Liar!
Rimmer: I've done good things.
Inq: No you haven't.
Rimmer: In my heart, I've always tried to do good things.
Inq: No you didn't.
Rimmer: Look, in my way I've tried to lead a good life.
Inq: When?
Rimmer: (pause) Ah! What's that in the corner? It's the Archangel Gabriel!
Well, that's me converted. I'm a new man. Hallelujah.
Inq: You are a slimy, despicable, rat-hearted, green discharge of a man,
aren't you?'
Rimmer: Well, sort of, yes.
Inq: So then, justify yourself.
Rimmer: What else could I have been? My father was a half-crazed military
failure. My mother was a bitch-queen from hell. My brothers had
all the looks and talent. But what did I have? Unmanageable hair
and ingrowing toenails. Yes, I admit I'm nothing, but, from what
I started with, nothing is up.
#5_2
>From `Inquisitor':
Cat: Hi, buddy!
Inq: This is your judgment day, bud. I gotta be cruel. There can't be no
favours.
Cat: I'm hearing you on FM.
Inq: I have to ask you the question. Justify your existence. What
contribution have you made?
Cat: I have given pleasure to the world because I have such a beautiful ass.
Inq: Well, that's true.
Cat: Can I go now?
Inq: That's your case?
Cat: You need more?
Inq: Some might say that's a pretty shallow argument.
Cat: Some might say I'm a pretty shallow guy, but a shallow guy with a great
ass.
Inq: Somtimes you astonish even me.
Cat: Thank you.
#5_2
>From `Inquisitor':
Inq: Well, Kryten, justify yourself.
Kryten: I'm not sure I can.
Inq: But surely your life is replete with good works. There can be few
individuals who have lived a more selfless life.
Kryten: But I am programmed to live unselfishly, and therefore any good works
I do come not out of fine motives, but as a result of a series of
binary commands I am compelled to obey.
Inq: Well then, how can any mechanical justify himself?
Kryten: Perhaps only if he attempted to break his own programming and conduct
his own life according to a set of values he arrived at independently.
Inq: Your argument invites deletion.
Kryten: The rules are yours, not mine.
Inq: Do you wish to be erased?
Kryten: Well, I am programmed not to wish for anything. I serve.
Inq: In a human, this behaviour might be considered stubborn.
Kryten: But I am not human, and neither are you. And it is not our place to
judge them. I wonder why you do.
Inq: (Closes visor) Enough.
#5_2
>From `Inquisitor':
Inq: (opens visor) Well, get out of this one, smeghead.
Lister: What are you talking about?
Inq: You know what you could have made of your life if you'd tried. What
you could've become.
Lister: So?
Inq: You've got brains, man -- brains you've never used.
Lister: So?
Inq: So, justify yourself.
Lister: Spin on it.
Inq: (closes visor) The Inquisition is over. I have reached my verdict.
Two of you have failed to become that which you might so easily have
been. You have lived without merit, so will not have lived at all.
[Rimmer and Cat disappear]
Lister: You scum! You've wiped them out!
Kryten: Sir...
Lister: He's crazy, Kryten. He's erased the Cat and Rimmer!
Inq: They are quite safe.
Kryten: Sir, I'm afraid it is we who are to be erased.
Lister: Ah.
#5_2
>From `Inquisitor':
Lister: Well, if you've got some amazing secret plan up your sleeve, Kryten,
now's the time to mention it.
Kryten: No plan, sir -- no sleeves.
#5_2
>From `Inquisitor':
Lister: We used to be your shipmates.
Rimmer: Only ... we've forgotten you.
Lister: Yeah.
Rimmer: [to Cat] Well, I don't know about you, but I'm convinced.
#5_2
>From `Inquisitor':
(proving that he knows Rimmer)
Lister: You once spent an afternoon on the Samaritan switchboard, and four
people committed suicide!
#5_2
>From `Inquisitor':
(distracting the Inquisitor)
Kryten: Excuse me, could I just distract you for a brief second?
#5_2
>From `Inquisitor':
Lister: Nyah! It's the old backfiring-time-gauntlet trick.
#5_2
>From `Inquisitor':
Kryten: You are a sick, sick person! If mechanoids could barf, I'd be on to
my fifth bag by now.
#5_3
>From `Terrorform':
"Kryten personal blackbox recording. Time: unknown. Location: unknown.
Cause of accident: unknown. Should someone find this recording, perhaps
it will shed light as to what happened here. My short-term memory has
been erased. This I ascribe to the proximity of the magnetic coils from
Starbug's rear engine. Secondly, due to the proximity of the magnetic
coils, my short-term memory appears to have been erased. This, combined
with the erasure of my short-term memory, has left me a little disoriented."
#5_3
>From `Terrorform':
Cat: This sounds like a twelve-change-of-underwear trip!
#5_3
>From `Terrorform':
(lines like `> this' are typed -- spelling errors sic)
Lister: > Help. Something is crawling up my leg. I think it's a taranshula.
Cat: You're playing that dumb adventure game!
Lister: > It's in my boxers. I think it's making a nest.
Cat: Well, buy a potion from Gandalf the Master Wizard -- that's what I
usually do.
Lister: > I'm SERIOUS.
Cat: (looks down, sees it, then begins typing too)
> It has an eye the size of a meatball.
Lister: > Kill it.
Cat: > How?
Lister: > I can't think straight. I've got a taranshula with an eye the size
of a meatball setting up home in my joy department. Help me.
Cat: > I'm scared
Lister: > YOU'RE scared? How d'you think I feel?
Cat: > You haven't SEEN it!
Lister: > The lower half of my body has gone numb.
Cat: > That's probably for the best.
Lister: > It's moving. Oh *$%^**!!!!
Hand: > Hello. Kryten in danger. No time to explain. Follow.
#5_3
>From `Terrorform':
Kryten: Sir, a couple of brief points: firstly, you're not a qualified
service engineer, and, consequently, sawing me in two will
invalidate my guarantee; secondly, I wouldn't trust you to open
a can of sardines that was already open.
#5_3
>From `Terrorform':
Rimmer: Look, I don't know who you are or what you think you're doing, but
I demand my right to a phone call. Yes, I thought that would stop
you. I thought the threat of legal action would have you running
for cover.
... [later, he is tied to a stake]
Rimmer: Is this the British embassy? Does it even look the remotest bit like
the British embassy? I want to know who you are, what I'm doing here
and I want to know now.
Priest: In accordance with the appetites of The Dark One, volitious ruler of
this domain, we, the holy legions, proffer up this sacrifice to slake
the vile, depraved thirstings of The Unspeakable One.
Rimmer: Well, that's cleared that up.
[the legions leave, and two women arrive]
Thank God. Thank God. There were some very very strange men running
around in black hoods with drums and rather unconvincing red eyes,
but thank God you're here. You know, I actually thought I was in the
most awful danger? [the women rip off his robes] Is it me, or has it
suddenly got rather hot in here?
... [later, the women are oiling him]
Rimmer: I am a 2nd Technician in the Space Corps, I am briefed to give you my
name and number and nothing more. I don't know who you people are or
what you think you're playing at, but I'm not going to give you any-
thing else. You can oil me all you like, you can use your tongues and
your full sensual lips to caress my erogenous zones onto a plateau of
sexual ecstasy, but I'll tell you now: this nut's not for cracking.
[the women oil his nipples]
However, far be it from me to change your game plan, if you absolutely
insist on using erotic persuasion to achieve your devious ends, then
so be it -- just have a large quatro-formaggio pizza with extra olives
ready at the end.
[the women begin to go up to a small balcony]
Er, where are you going? What are you doing? My god, are you going
to take a flying leap?
Woman1: We are going to summon the master.
Rimmer: The master?
Woman2: You have been prepared for him.
Rimmer: This master character -- and I acknowledge I may not want to know the
full answer to this one -- but why does he want me oiling particulary?
Obviously whatever he has in mind is facilitated by my being slippery
and pliant, yes?
Woman1: He always likes his victims to be oiled. An oiled body is so much
better for conducting the electricity.
Rimmer: Not the best news, but it could have been worse.
#5_3
>From `Terrorform':
Lister: Is it me, or are those frogs saying `useless'?
Frogs: Useless, useless, Rimmer, you're useless.
Cat: Hey, look at this! You've got a huge great blood-sucking leech
on your neck. (rips it off) It's got a human face!
Lister: It's Rimmer's mum!
#5_4
>From `Quarantine':
Mr Flibble: Game over, boys!
#5_4
>From `Quarantine':
Kryten: Frankenstein was the creator -- not the monster. It's a common
misconception, held by all truly stupid people.
#5_4
>From `Quarantine':
Lister: Why do we never meet anyone nice?
Cat: Why is it we never meet anyone who can shoot straight?
#5_4
>From `Quarantine':
Rimmer: So let me get this straight. You want to fly on a magic carpet
to see the King of the Potato People and plead with him for your
freedom, and you're telling me you're completely sane?
#5_5
>From `Demons and Angels':
Lister: You guys have got to be yanking my chain!
#5_5
>From `Demons and Angels':
Holly: Rude alert! Rude alert! An electrical fire has knocked out my
voice-recognition unicycle! Many Wurlitzers are missing from my
database! Abandon shop! This is not a daffodil! Repeat: This is
not a daffodil!
Rimmer: Well, thankfully, Holly's unaffected.
#5_5
>From `Demons and Angels':
Holly: The phrase `cargo bay doors' does not appear to be in my lexicon.
#5_6
>From `Back to Reality':
Cat: Don't fish swim south for the winter?
Kryten: That's birds, sir.
Cat: Birds swim south for the winter? How do they breathe?
#5_6
>From `Back to Reality':
Lister: Why would a haddock kill itself? Why am I even asking that question?
#5_6
>From `Back to Reality':
Cat: Hang five, guys -- I'm getting something. He committed suicide, he
committed suicide, he committed suicide, and the fish committed suicide.
There's some kind of link here, but I can't quite put my finger on it.
#5_6
>From `Back to Reality':
Kryten: Some kind of sea creature -- a life form we have never encountered
before -- attacked this ship. Its defence mechanism is a curious one.
It secretes a venom -- a poison, possibly even an hallucinogenic --
which disfunctions its prey by inducing despair. Now, that's why the
crewmembers, and even that fish, had committed suicide. Unfortunately,
we have been contaminated. It's a greatly reduced dose but we may find
that we do experience (bursts into tears) moments of despair and
anguish.
Rimmer: (talking to them over the radio) What about Lister and the Cat?
Lister: I'm OK. I don't seem to be affected. It's true, I don't think anyone
has ever truly loved me in my entire life. There's nothing new about
that.
Cat: What is it with you guys? This has gotten like Saturday Night at the
Wailing Wall. Why is it always me that has to be the strong one?
(crying) I mean, you guys just fall apart.
#5_6
>From `Back to Reality':
Kryten: Listen, whoever you are, don't push your luck by ordering whoever I am
around because, almost certainly, whoever I am, I'm not the kind of guy
who's going to take any crap from whoever you are. So, before you
start ordering me around, let's establish if I'm the kind of guy who
doesn't mind being ordered around or if I'm kind of guy who gets all
uptight being ordered around by whatever the kind of guy you are,
CLEAR?
...
Kryten: "Jake Bullet: Cybernautic Detective." I like that! That sounds
like the kind of hard-living flatfoot who gets the job done by
cutting corners and bucking authority, and if those penpushers up
at City Hall don't like it, well, they can park their overpaid fat
asses on this mid digit and swivel -- swivel 'til they squeal like
pigs on a honeymoon!"
Rimmer: On the other hand `Mr Bullet', perhaps the Cybernautics division
is in charge of traffic control, and you just happen to have a
rather silly macho name.
...
Kryten: (holding out his badge) Bullet. Cybernautics.
Cop: That's traffic control.
#5_6
>From `Back to Reality':
Rimmer: Billy Doyle. Well, that's a name that comes from the wrong side
of the the tracks, isn't it? You can see it all now: a youth spent
in and out of corrective institutions; a string of illegitimate
children; the wife will be all white shoes, no tights and blotchy
legs; has to take up petty crime to cover the court orders for
maintenance; before he knows it, he's standing in a bank with a
sawn-off shotgun; somehow, it goes off; an old lady gets both barrels
through a crocheted bobble hat; all he can do is hide, but where?;
and then it hits him -- with his ill-gotten gains he can buy four
years in a computer game and wait until the heat is off. And so ends
the Ballad of Billy `Granny-Killer' Doyle.
Lister: It's yours.
Rimmer: What?!
Lister: It's yours, `Bill'.
Rimmer: No.
Lister: Check the ugly mug on the ID then, man.
Rimmer: `William Doyle'... `William Doyle'! Good old Bill Doyle. That sounds
like a hell of a good name to me -- probably connected to the Boston
Doyles, old money, blue-chip stock... You know, I think it's all
starting to come back to me now.
Lister: What puzzles me slightly is what a man of such undoubted good
breeding would be doing wearing a coat that smells like an elderly
male yak has taken a leak in both the pockets.
Rimmer: Well, isn't it obvious?
Kryten: No, it isn't.
Rimmer: OH MY GOD. My name is Billy Doyle and my cologne is Eau de Yak Urine.
#5_6
>From `Back to Reality':
Rimmer: This is a nightmare. I'm on the run from the fascist police with a
murderer, a mass murderer and a man in a bri-nylon shirt. I'm a piece
of flotsam, jetsam human wreckage sputum bag who smells like a yak
latrine, and now my best flashing mac is about to be splattered with
an android's brain. I'm after you with the gun.
#alt.tv.red-dwarf
NOT from RD but from alt.tv.red-dwarf:
Is it just me, or does everyone whistle the theme song when reading this
newsgroup?
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