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) In the 3 million years we've been away, it is my fond hope that mankind has abolished war, cured all disease, and gotten rid of those little western saloon doors you get in trendy clothes shops.
RIMMER: 140,000 rehydratable chickens.
LISTER: (Extremely bored) Check.
RIMMER: 72 tons of reconstituted sausage pate.
LISTER: Check.
RIMMER: 4,691 irradiated haggis.
LISTER: Oh, Rimmer, it's Saturday night. I've had enough.
RIMMER: 4,691 irradiated haggis.
LISTER: Rimmer, it's Saturday night! I want to boogie on down!
RIMMER: 4,691 irradiated haggis.
LISTER: We've been doing this for four hours! Let's have a break!
RIMMER: 4,691 irradiated hag-g-gis.
LISTER: Rimmer, will you stop saying 4,981 irradiated haggis and speak to me!
RIMMER: 4,691 irradiated haggis.
LISTER: (Beginning to lose his temper) Rimmer, I want to go for adrink!
RIMMER: 4,691 irradiated haggis!
LISTER: I want to have some fun!
RIMMER: This *is* fun! Are you mad?
LISTER: You read something out. I say check. Where's the fun?
RIMMER: All right. We'll put you in command for a few seconds, Capitaine.(Salutes.) What's the plan, sir? Come on, lickety split.
LISTER: Go back to Earth.
RIMMER: And in the meantime?
LISTER: I don't know, generally slob around, have a few laughs.
RIMMER: Excellent plan, Lister! Excellent plan! Brilliant plan! There was me thinking you hadn't thought about it, when clearly you have. Right, I'll just stand over here and laugh slobbily, shall I?
LISTER: Rimmer, I'm going for a drink. Gimme me cigarettes.
RIMMER: I only owe you four and three quarters.
LISTER: You owe me five!
RIMMER: It's one cigarette for each day you obey me.
LISTER: Well, there you go. Five days, five cigarettes.
RIMMER: Ah, but I'm penalising you a quarter of a cigarette for saying "check" in a variety of silly voices while doing the homogenised puddings.
LISTER: Well, I'm taking five.
RIMMER: You take five, Lister, I'll eject the rest of the ship's stock into space.
LISTER: Ha-ha-ha-ha! So they're somewhere near an airlock?
RIMMER: Ha-ha-ha-ha. You'll never find them, Lister. I was always a master at hide and seek as a child. It's not a gift you lose.
LISTER: (Resignedly tearing the end off a cigarette) OK, quark brain.
RIMMER: Even it out. Take out the flaky bits.
LISTER: Oh, I really, really hate you, Rimmer.(Walks out.)
RIMMER: Have a lovely, lovely time, Lister. Give my regards to the air.
LISTER: Lights.The lights come on.
LISTER: Holly, why Rimmer's hologram? Why did you have to bring Rimmer's hologram back? He was the most unpopular man on board this ship. I mean, he even had to organise his own surprise birthday parties.
HOLLY: (Voice only) And who should I have brought back, then?
LISTER: Anyone. Chen. Petersen. I mean, Hermann Gerring would have been more of a laugh than Rimmer. I mean, OK, he was a drug-crazed transvestite, but at least we could have gone dancing!
HOLLY: (On monitor screen) I brought Rimmer back because he's the best person to keep you sane.
LISTER: Oh, crap!
A panel on the wall swings around to reveal a toilet. A sign over the toilet reads, "NOW IRRADIATE YOUR HANDS."
LISTER: Not you!
TOILET: I *do* apologise, I wasn't paying attention. See you later.
LISTER: What about Kristine Kochanski? You could have brought Kristine back.
HOLLY: In your entire life, your shared conversations with her totalled 173 words.
LISTER: So?
HOLLY: In terms of wordage, you actually had a better relationship with your rubber plant.
LISTER: I know, but Rimmer
HOLLY: He's the person you knew best. Over 14 million words in all.
LISTER: Holly, 7 million of those were me telling him to smeg off, and the other 7 million were him putting me on report for telling him to smeg off.
HOLLY: Jean Paul Sartre said hell was being locked forever in a room with your friends.
LISTER: Holly, all his mates were French.
He leaves the room.
5. Model shot.Red Dwarf.
6 Int. Mess hall.
LISTER is sitting alone, sipping a drink. The scene fades to the past --a party. LISTER and three of his friends are sitting at the table drinking, while others dance around them. A sign on the wall reads "NOSTALGIA NIGHT 1990s." LISTER and his friends, PETERSEN, SELBY, and CHEN are playing a rhythmic word game.
PETERSEN: I've been to Titan, I've been to Juno, I can name eight things that go in jars that you know! Pickles!
SELBY: Jam!
CHEN: Spaghetti!
LISTER: Brains!
CHEN yells and everyone stops.
SELBY: What? In jars?
LISTER: My uncle's brain's in a jar. It's really sad.
CHEN: Why is it sad?
LISTER: He's not dead yet.
PETERSEN: Right, everybody's punished. Finish your drinks.
They all scull their drinks, and are still horsing around when RIMMER approaches through the crowd.
RIMMER: Excuse me, please. Could you please excuse me? Some of us have more important things to do than wiggle our posteriors. Could you move please? Please? Thank you. Could you move? Excuse me, please. Excuse me. Excuse me, please. Excuse me! He runs into KOCHANSKI, who drops her purse. RIMMER picks it up and throws it away.
RIMMER: If you want to dance, do it over there.
(Calling in the direction he threw the purse) Sorry. He continues walking towards LISTER's table. LISTER watches KOCHANSKI go fetch her purse and sit down with her friend.
CHEN: That woman's out of your league. She's just too classy for you.
LISTER: Who is?
CHEN: Kochanski.
LISTER: I've got no big thing about Kochanski.
CHEN: Stick to your usual type. Women with little wispy beards who wear three overcoats and carry little bags full of string.
SELBY: Kristine Kochanski?
LISTER: Shut up!
SELBY: What, Officer Kristine Kochanski?
LISTER: Selby, have you ever eaten a coconut whole?
SELBY: Ah, you've got no chance with her. You're just too ugly.
LISTER: Listen, hadron head, I've got no big thing about Kristine Kochanski!
CHEN: I have.
SELBY:So have I.
RIMMER walks up to them and gives them a triple Rimmer salute. They mockingly return it.
RIMMER: Ha ha ha. Lister, where's my revision timetable?
CHEN: Sir, it's Saturday night!
LISTER: Come on, no one works Saturday night!
RIMMER: You don't work *any* night. You don't work any *day*!
LISTER: Skive hard, play hard! That's our motto!
RIMMER: Look, I've got my engineering re-sit on Monday. I don't know anything. Where's my revision timetable?
LISTER: Wait, is this the thing in all different colours, with all the subjects divided into study periods and rest periods and self testing time?
RIMMER: It took me seven weeks to make it. I've got to cram my whole revision into one night.
LISTER: Hang on, is this the thing with the note on it in red which said, "Vital. Valuable. Urgent. Do not touch on pain of death?"
RIMMER: Yes!
LISTER: I threw it away.
LISTER and his friends crack up.
RIMMER: Ha ha ha ha. Tee hee. Where is it?
LISTER: No, I didn't. I pinned it up on the wall.
RIMMER: What? Why?
LISTER: To dry it out.
RIMMER: What do you mean, dry it out?
LISTER: Well, I spilled a cold vindaloo on it. Don't worry, it's a little bit red, but you can read most of it, especially if you scrape the lumps off.
RIMMER: You spoiled my -- no, I haven't got time. I'm taking learning drugs and all I'm memorising is this conversation.
PETERSEN: They're illegal!
RIMMER: (Going into a sort of trance) Where's my revision timetable, Lister? It's Saturday night. No one works Saturday night. You don't work any night. You don't work any day. Skive hard, play hard, that's our motto. Lister, where did you put my revision timetable. It's Saturday night. No one works Saturday night. You don't work...
He wanders off into the crowd in a daze, muttering to himself.
CHEN: I've been to Titan, I've been to Bolanski, I can name 90 men who've slept with Kochanski! Me!
PETERSEN: Me!
SELBY: Me!
CHEN: The London Jets Juniors!
PETERSEN: The service droids!
SELBY: My mother!
LISTER: OK, leave it alone, leave it...
His daydream fades, and he's left back in the present, alone in the mess.
LISTER: ...alone.
He tries to light up the short cigarette, but it burns so fast that he hurriedly stomps it out.
7 Int. Corridors. RIMMER is walking down a corridor. Cut to CAT, who is walking down a nearby corridor pushing a cart loaded with silver boxes.
CAT: Aaaoooww! Ooh, babe! Hey Yeah! Jump back! Come back! Hep! (Stops) How'm I looking? (Pulling out a little mirror) I'm looking nice. My hair is nice. My face is nice. My suit is nice. I'm looking really nice! Aaaooowww! Jump back! Hoo! Ack! Hey! (Stops again) I wonder how I'm looking now? (Pulling out the mirror) Still looking nice. My hair's still nice. My face is still nice. My suit -- I'm just nice, period. Aaaoooww! Jump back! Get down! Hoo!
RIMMER meets up with CAT in the corridor.
RIMMER: Good evening, you stupid, stinking, festering, gimboid of a cat.
He begins to leave, then realises what the CAT has on the trolley.
RIMMER: Er, you're going to put these cigarettes back, aren't you?
CAT: Are you crazy? This is my all time best lucky find I ever found in the whole of today.
RIMMER: No no no no no. You are going to put these cigarettes back *quickly* before he comes.
CAT: These are mine!
RIMMER: They're not yours -- put them back.
CAT: See this hand? It is mine. See these things? They are mine.
RIMMER: I'll give you a fish.CAT: One fish? Ha!
RIMMER: Two fish.
CAT: For all these shiny things?
RIMMER: I'll show you how to get all the fish you'll ever need.
CAT: (Tempted) Five fish?
RIMMER: Mmm.
CAT: Five fish? I'll be rich!
RIMMER: You certainly will! Yes, come on!
CAT: All right!
He begins to wheel the trolley back the way he came, then suddenly stops.
CAT: (Suspiciously) Five fish?
RIMMER: Six fish!
CAT: Oooowwww!
His mind made up, he goes the way RIMMER wants.
8 Int. Sleeping quarters. LISTER is strumming on his guitar and singing something best left undescribed. RIMMER enters.
RIMMER: Lister, what on Titan is this din? *Lister*!!
LISTER stops singing and playing. The background tune, if that's the
right word for it, continues from the CD deck.
RIMMER: What on Titan is this din?
LISTER: It's Rastabilly-Ska.
RIMMER: (Noticing the CD cover on the table) Is this it? It's got a
health warning on it, you know. It's bad for you.
LISTER: It's a classic.
RIMMER: "Danger. Government Health Warning. This music can make you irritable and irrational and has been linked to disorders of the
nervous system and bowels."
LISTER: Rimmer, no one takes any notice of that stuff.
RIMMER: Lister, if you want to dice with death, fine, but don't poison my
sound waves. Off!
The music stops.
RIMMER: Why don't you listen to something really classical, like Mozart,
Mendelssohn, or Motorhead?
LISTER climbs into his bunk.
RIMMER: I think I've gone video-blind. Is that painting yours? It's
rubbish!
LISTER: It's a mirror.
RIMMER: I need some sleep.
He lies down in his bunk.
LISTER: Rimmer, do you, ah, do you remember Kristine Kochanski?
RIMMER: Navigation officer? Yes, I remember her. Snooty cow. She used
to look down on me. She used to call me "Rimmer."
LISTER: Everybody called you "Rimmer."
RIMMER: Well, it's the way she said it, though. Rimmer. Rimmer. To
rhyme with "scum." God, she had a chip on her shoulder, Lister.
LISTER: Oh yeah? Well, I want to go on a date with her.
RIMMER: Tough. She's dead.LISTER: For just one night!RIMMER: Nope.LISTER: I want to turn you off.RIMMER: Nope.
LISTER: For just four hours.
RIMMER: Nope.
LISTER: And spend an evening with her hologram.
RIMMER: Nope.
LISTER: Look, I know you're worried I won't turn you back on...
