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(RED DWARF THEME)
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.
The most interesting event that happened recently
was that Lister pretended he'd passed the chef's exam,
although really he'd failed.
That gives you some idea of how truly exciting some days can be around here.
Holly, give me access to the crew's confidential reports.
Those are for the Captain's eyes only, Arnold.
Fine. We'll give him ten seconds to come back from the dead
and if he hasn't managed it, we'll presume I'm in charge, yeah?
-No. He hasn't managed it. -Whose do you want?
Give me... Give me Lister's. Just the remarks.
David Lister, Technician, third class.
Captain's remarks. "Has requested sick leave due to diarrhoea
"on no less than 500 occasions.
"Left his previous job as a supermarket trolley attendant after ten years
"because he didn't want to get tied down to a career.
"Promotion prospects, zero."
I always liked Captain Hollister.
Such a great reader of men was Captain Hollister.
A marvellous, marvellous man and a tragic loss to us all.
All right, Holly. Give me... Give me mine.
Arnold Rimmer, Technician, second class.
Captain's remarks. "There's a saying amongst the officers,
"if a job's worth doing, it's worth doing well.
"If it's not worth doing, give it to Rimmer.
"He aches for responsibility, but constantly fails the engineering exam."
Whoa, whoa, whoa! Holly, Holly. I want my report.
Rimmer. Two Ms, E, R.
"Astoundingly zealous. Possibly mad.
"Probably has more teeth than brain cells.
"Promotion prospects, comical."
No, no, no, Holly. I want Rimmer.
That's two Rs, one at the front, one at the back.
Arnold, this is your report.
I always hated that pus-head Hollister.
He always resented my popularity.
That's why he never put forward my proposal
to reduce the minimum haircut length by an eighth of an inch.
Small-minded, petty-thinking modo.
Arnold, I'm picking up an unidentified object.
Constantly fails the exam? I'd hardly call 11 times constantly.
I mean, if you eat roast beef 11 times in your life,
one would hardly say that person constantly eats roast beef.
No. It would be a rare, nay, freak occurrence.
Possibly mad? What is he drivelling about?
-It's on the screen, Arnold. -What is?
-The UO. -What is it?
I don't know.
You'd better find out, hadn't you? It's obviously beyond me.
I've got more teeth than brain cells, remember?
Yes, you have.
(SNIFFS)
-TOASTER: Would you like some toast? -Uh-uh.
Some nice, hot, crisp, brown, buttered toast?
Uh-uh!
-You don't want any toast, then? -No.
-What about a muffin? -Nothing.
You know the last time you had toast?
18 days ago. 11:36, Tuesday 3rd.
-Two rounds. -Shh!
I mean, what's the point of buying a toaster with artificial intelligence
if you don't like toast?
-I do like toast. -I mean, this is my job.
-This is cruel. This is just cruel. -Look, I'm busy.
Oh, you're not busy eating toast, are you?
I don't want any!
I mean, the whole purpose of my existence
is to serve you with hot, buttered, scrummy toast.
If you don't want any, then my existence is meaningless.
-Good. -I toast, therefore I am.
Will you shut up?
(SNIFFS)
What are you doing?
-I'm reading. -What, with your nose?
Yeah. It's a cat book. They don't use marks, they use smells.
You run your nose along the line
and all the different smells are released.
-It's really good. -What a pathetic idea.
Well, unlike you, Rimmer, my mind is open to new cultures,
new ways of looking at and doing things.
-And what does it say? -It says,
(SNIFFING) "See *** run.
"Run, ***, run.
"Run home, ***."
That's the cat equivalent of Shakespeare, is it?
Shakespeare? Who's Shakespeare?
You moron. A playwright in the olden days. Wilfred Shakespeare.
I'm only just starting out. This is for three-year-olds, so you should try it.
I'm not the slightest bit interested
in smelling anything cats have to say, thank you, Lister.
You don't know what you're missing.
Rimmer, there's this brilliant one where *** buys this ball,
this big ball, this big red ball. It's amazing stuff.
You ought to try reading your shirt sometime, Lister.
It's probably a novel by Victor Hugo.
Anyway, if you're interested, Holly's spotted... Is that my shirt?
-Yeah. I borrowed it. -What's that down the front?
That's definitely biscuit. Um, that's custard.
That's definitely ink, and just general sort of dirty marks.
You can't just go through my possessions!
-Come on, you don't need them any more. -Because I'm dead?
Yeah. You're a hologram and holograms don't need clothes.
They're my things, Lister!
Would you steal verruca cream from a man with no feet?
I mean, how would you like it if I stole your T-shirt,
your favourite one with the custard stains down the front?
I wouldn't care.
You've got no right to go through my wardrobe.
Okay, okay.
(LAUGHS)
You keep your underpants on coat hangers, don't you?
That's private!
Okay, Rimmer, okay. Take the shirt back.
I don't want it. It's ruined. You've sweated in it.
Well, if you don't want the shirt, what do you want, Rimmer?
Just keep out of my things, all right?
-Okay, okay. What's Holly spotted? -An unidentified object.
-You mean a rock. -It might not be.
They're always rocks.
Mostly they're rocks, I agree, but maybe this one's different.
Rimmer, there's nothing out there, you know.
There's nobody out there.
No alien monsters, no Zargon warships,
no beautiful blondes with beehive hairdos,
who say, "Show me some more of this Earth thing called kissing."
There's just you, me, the Cat
and a lot of floating, smegging rocks. That's it. Finito.
Lister, if there's no one out there, what's the point in existence?
-Why are we here? -Beats me. You want some toast?
HOLLY: Arnold, the unidentified object is now in visual range.
All right, Holly. I'm on my way.
(SLAPS)
Ow! Nice jump. Hey!
Smooth with a capital smoo.
Okay, time to get out the food detector.
Food! This way.
Ow! Ooh!
Yeah, yeah! This way.
(SNIFFS) This way! Yeah!
Ah, you. Where have you been?
Investigating. Investigating this, investigating that.
General investigation.
-General investigation, eh? -Yeah.
-Ah, splendid! -Thank you.
-Keep it up. -Okay.
Fine. Well, uh, if you'll just excuse me...
Hey! You can't have my shiny thing!
I found it. It's my shiny thing.
What are you drivelling about?
This is my shiny thing.
And if you try and take it off me, I may have to eat you.
It's a yo-yo, you modo.
It does two amazing things.
One, you have the shiny thing at the top and the string down below,
or, and this is the clever part, you have the string at the top
and shiny thing down here where the string used to be.
(LAUGHS SARCASTICALLY)
Hey, hey! Ow!
You haven't the slightest clue what it's for, do you?
Why, sure I do, grease stain.
You hold the shiny thing in one hand
and you go... Ow!
The string's moving!
Hey! Stop that string! Catch that string!
Ow!
-Where is it? -It's in scoop range, Arnold.
It's a pod! Holly, bring it in!
Yeah, yeah, yeah! I'm back! Feeling good! Feed me.
Cat, hi. I haven't seen you for ages. Where have you been?
-Investigating. -Got you some crispies.
Yeah, yeah, yeah!
I read that book you gave me, you know.
It's got a brilliant ending, I could...
I could hardly believe me nose.
Forget that. Got you this. The one you asked about.
-The Holy Book. -Oh, great!
(SNIFFS)
-Hey, pictures! -Yeah. That's a cat thing.
You see, sometimes in a book, we have a drawing of something
that is happening in the story and we call them pictures.
Yeah, yeah. We have pictures, too.
Then you monkeys are smarter than I thought.
-This is me! -No. That's not you. That's Cloister.
He was the father of the cat people.
He lived years ago, at the beginning.
-Who's that? -That's him frozen in time.
No. That's me. I was sent to stasis. That's what frozen in time is.
He did that to save Frankenstein.
Look, Frankenstein was my pet cat!
Look, Lister, Cloister. Cloister, Lister! See?
Listen, you stupid monkey, Cloister's another name for... for God!
That's what I'm saying. I am your God.
Okay. Turn this into a woman.
-I'm serious. -So am I!
Look, Frankenstein was my pet cat, right? And she was pregnant.
Now I got put into suspended animation.
I was supposed to be there for 18 months
but I didn't get out for three million years.
-You oversleep? So do I. -No!
What I'm saying is that over those three million years,
your entire race of people evolved from my pet cat.
Ah, I gotta go now, man, but let's do lunch some time.
I'll put it in my diary, "12:30, lunch with God."
And, formal dress, you know what I'm saying?
-It is true, you know. -Yeah?
Then I've got to ask you the ultimate question,
if you're God, why that face?
-What's wrong with me face? -What's wrong with your face?
It's upside down and inside out, that's what's wrong with it.
Ow!
-Holly? -Yes, Dave?
If I give you my cat dictionary, can you translate this for me?
I'll give it a go, Dave.
Why are you always asking him? I'll do it.
-You're a toaster. -Yeah, I was thinking of packing it in.
It's turning me into something I don't like.
I'm not a moaner by nature, you know.
No. By nature, you're a toaster.
Yeah, it just strikes me there might be something more,
something greater, something unimaginably more splendid
than heating bread.
Lister, it's arrived!
-What has? -The UO! It's a pod!
-Where? -The observation room.
-Yes! -No point in running, Lister.
It's mine. I found it. I've got bagsies.
He's such a child, that boy.
-Is it safe, Holly? -Yes, Dave.
Lister, no point in running. I found it and it's mine.
Calm down. Dead people can have heart attacks, too, you know.
What is it?
I don't know, it's obviously some sort of alien capsule.
And clearly they're intelligent, Lister.
The chance to meet an intelligent life form after 18 weeks alone with you...
Okay, Mr Intelligence, what are those markings?
I don't know. I don't speak alien, you gimboid.
Ah...
(WHIZZING)
What are you doing, Lister? We don't know if it's safe. It's quarantined!
You might get some squiggly slimy thing stuck to your face!
Of course it's safe. Come in. Come on, come in...
(GASPS)
Ha-ha-ha, tee-hee. All right, Lister. We'll play it your way.
But don't think you're coming out of there.
You're in there for a month. You're in quarantine.
What did you say, Rimmer?
Why do you never do what I tell you, eh?
Don't you think there's a shining good reason why I'm your superior?
Yeah. You've been with the company
-for 15 years. -No, it's not.
And I've been with them for eight months.
No, it's not. It's because I'm better than you.
Better trained, better equipped, better...
Better. Just, just better.
That must mean the rest of the crew are better than you, then.
No, it doesn't. It means...
I'm not going to let you bait me, Lister. This is far too important.
Just you wait here, keep that door closed
till I get back with the skutters. Tyke.
Oh, Rimmer's such a smeghead, man.
Hang on a minute.
Give me an R.
Give me an E.
Give me a D.
Give me a Red Dwarf garbage pod!
Holly! Did Rimmer never work in waste disposal?
-No, Dave. -(CHUCKLES)
It's one of our Red Dwarf garbage pods
with, like, the writing burnt off in places.
-Why didn't you tell him? -Well, it's a laugh, innit?
RIMMER: After intensive investigation, comma,
of the markings on the alien pod, comma,
it has become clear, comma,
to me, comma, that we are dealing, comma,
with a species of awesome intellect, colon.
HOLLY: Good. Perhaps they might be able
to give you a hand with your punctuation.
RIMMER: Shut up.
(LISTER SNORING)
Lights.
Lister, are you awake? Lister?
Lister?
(YELLING) Lister!
-Are you awake? -Yeah, yeah.
Yeah, I couldn't sleep, either.
-It's the excitement. -What excitement?
-The alien excitement! -Rimmer, it's garbage.
You can scoff, Lister. That's nothing new.
They laughed at Galileo. They laughed at Edison.
-They laughed at Colombo. -Who's Colombo?
The man with the dirty mac who discovered America.
-What makes you think these aliens exist? -They must do, Lister.
There's so many things that are strange and odd.
So many things we don't have any explanation for.
Like, why do intelligent people buy cinema hot dogs?
Do you mean that sort of weird and mysterious thing?
No, Lister. I mean like the pyramids.
How did they move such massive pieces of stone
without the aid of modern technology?
They had massive whips, Rimmer. Massive, massive whips.
All right, then. The Bermuda Triangle.
Go on, explain that one. You know all the answers.
No, I agree there. That is a genuine mystery.
How did a song like that ever become a hit? It defies all reason.
I just don't know why I bother.
I'd get more sense out of a squashed hedgehog.
Lister, don't you ever stop and wonder?
Why are we here? What's the grand purpose?
Why does it have to be such a big deal?
Why can't it be, like, humans beings are a planetary disease?
Like the Earth's got German measles or facial ***, right?
And that's why all the other planets give us such a wide berth.
It's like, "Oh, don't go near Earth. It's got human beings!
"They're contagious."
So you're saying, Lister, you're an intergalactic, pus-filled cold sore?
At last, Lister, we agree on something.
What do you believe in, then? Do you believe in God?
God? Certainly not! What a preposterous thought!
I believe in aliens, Lister.
Oh, right, fine. Something sensible at last.
Aliens, Lister, with technology so far in advance of our own
we can't even begin to imagine.
Well, that's not difficult.
Mankind hasn't even got the technology to create a toupee
that doesn't get big laughs.
Aliens, Lister, who can give me a real body.
Oh, I can't wait to see your face in the morning, I really can't.
And nor I yours, Lister.
When that pod opens and from it emerges a beautiful alien woman
with long green hair and six ***.
Six ***?
Imagine making love to a woman with six ***!
Imagine making love to a woman.
(COUGHS)
Good morning. How can I help you?
Buongiorno. Um, give me breakfast.
-What would you like? -Uh, chicken vindaloo and a milkshake.
-What flavour milkshake? -Erm, beer.
HOLLY: Morning, Dave. I've finished your translation.
Who's Cloister? Is it me?
Yes, Dave. The cats have made you their God.
Hey! Working-class kid makes good!
Your plan to buy a farm on Fiji and open up a hot dog and doughnut diner
-has became their image of heaven. -What?
"And Cloister spake,
"'Lo, I shall lead you to Fuchal
"and there we shall open a temple of food,
"'wherein shall be sausages and savoury doughnuts
"'and all manner of bountiful things.
"'Yea, even individual sachets of mustard.
"'And those who serve shall wear hats of great majesty.
"'Yea, though they be made of coloured cardboard
"'and humourous arrows through the top.'"
Does it say what happened to the rest of the cats?
Holy wars. There were thousands of years
of fighting, Dave, between the two factions.
What two factions?
The ones who believed the hats should be red
and the ones who believed the hats should be blue.
Do you mean they had a war over
whether the doughnut diner hats were red or blue?
Yeah. Most of them were killed fighting about that.
It's daft really, innit?
You're not kidding. They were supposed to be green.
Go on, Hol.
Well, finally, they called a truce
and built two arks and left Red Dwarf in search of Fuchal.
But there's no such place as Fuchal, it's Fiji.
I mean, how are they supposed to find it?
"And Cloister gave to Frankenstein the sacred writing saying,
"'Those who have wisdom will know its meaning.'
"And it was written thus, seven socks, one shirt...'"
That's my laundry list! I lined the cat's basket with me laundry list.
The blue hats thought it was a star chart leading to the promised land.
Well, it wasn't. It was my dirty washing.
What happened next, Hol?
"And the ark that left first followed the sacred signs,
"and lo, they flew straight into an asteroid.
"And the righteous in the second ark flew ever onward,
"knowing they were indeed righteous."
This is terrible. Holy wars. Killing.
They're just using religion as an excuse to be extremely crappy to each other.
So what else is new?
I'm not interested.
And they killed each other over which coloured cardboard hats to wear.
I'm not interested.
-Don't you think it's amazing? -No.
You know what happened to people who didn't eat hotdogs on Fuchal Day?
They were *** to death by stale doughnuts.
Lister, what do you want me to say? Congratulations, you're God?
I'm talking about the suffering.
People died. I mean, cats... Cat people died.
You've just come here to rub my nose in it.
I could've been God, you know,
given a different start in life,
given the lucky showbiz break you had.
I don't want to be a god, that's the point.
Oh, vomitisation! I don't believe it!
"I'm God, but it's bit of a drag, actually." Come on!
I'm not a god! I've just been misquoted.
Lister, for my money, anyone who goes around reading meaning
into any old gobbledygook deserves everything they get.
I mean, if I had eight sock on my laundry list instead of seven.
What if I owned more than one pair of underpants?
They might've been safe.
I just wish I could meet them and explain and apologise.
Well, that would look spectacular, wouldn't it, Lister?
God returns in all his splendour
and says, "Sorry, it's all been a total ***-up!"
I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to become their god!
Well, I didn't ask to be killed, Lister.
Life's a ***. Now smeg off, I'm busy.
They just made stuff up, you know.
I'm supposed to have given them five sacred laws. Five sacred laws!
I've broken four of them meself.
I'd have broken the fifth, but there's no sheep on board.
Bye-bye.
I mean, Rimmer, what sort of holy writ is this, Rimmer?
"It is a sin to be cool."
(YELLING) Look, I'm sick of hearing about these stupid cats!
My concerns are slightly more meaningful than what coloured
stupid, smegging cardboard hat I'm wearing!
I'm trying to decipher this!
This is science, laddy. You can smirk, Lister, but I believe the Quagaars...
-Quagars? -Quagaars! It's a name I made up.
Double A, actually.
I believe the Quagaars have the technology to give me a new body!
Never mind this tot. Where's the Cat?
-Tot? -Tot.
-Tot? -Tot!
-Tot? -Tot!
-Tot? -Tot!
We'll soon see how totty it is, laddy.
The quarantine period's nearly up!
***!
Cat? Cat?
(HONKS HORN)
Holly, where's the Cat?
He's no longer in my supervision field, Dave.
He's gone down to the cargo decks?
I lost him as he entered Supply Pipe 28.
Cat? Cat?
Cat! Come on, Cat.
Meow! Meow! Come on, kitty, kitty!
Cat, come on.
The crispies have gone warm.
Come on. Cat, come on.
Ow, yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Hey. fellas. Yes, sir, I'm back.
Feeling good! Feeling...
You're always leaving me where you go.
Investigating.
-See, I have these feet... -I'm dying.
I'm telling you about my feet. My investigating feet.
Didn't you hear me?
I'm dying.
Yeah. But I'm telling you about my feet.
Why should you listen to me?
A blind old priest that's lost his faith.
I'm not listening to you.
I'm trying to tell you about my feet.
What do you care.
I don't care.
You're the one who's doing the dying. Not me.
Why should I let it spoil my evening?
Cat?
Cat?
Cat, when I get you I'm going to turn you into a kebab.
Holly, can you still hear me?
Cat?
Here.
Burn the sacred hat.
That's a fearsome hat.
Burn it! Burn it. It's a symbol of the lies.
-It's burnt. -All my life I've served a lie.
Because you're not there, Cloister, are you?
You've never been there!
You don't exist!
-Who's that? -It is I, Cloister!
Who is it, boy?
I've told you, it's me, Cloister. I've returnethed.
Is it him? Is it truly him? Does he look like a king?
A king? Yeah, yeah!
Is he wearing the doughnut and the golden sausage?
-Yeah. Yeah. -Then it truly is him!
I failed you, Cloister.
All these years I kept my faith.
I wore the holy custard stain
and the sacred gravy marks.
I renounced coolness
and chose the righteous path of slobbiness.
But in the end, I failed you.
Why didn't you go on the arks with the rest of the cats?
They left us behind. The sick and the lame.
Left us to die.
But then the boy was born to the cripple and the idiot.
-What idiot? -Your father, boy.
My father was a jelly brain?
Yes. That's why he ate his own feet.
I did wonder.
But as one by one we died, my faith died also.
You tested me, Cloister, and I failed you.
Oh, no. You didn't fail, old man. You passed.
I'm giving you... I'm giving you an A plus distinction.
You mean there's a place for me on Fuchal?
A place? Got your own bathroom, en-suite, cork floors,
your own barbecue on the patio,
double glazing, a phone and everything.
Oh, my hat!
I've burnt my sacred hat!
No, you haven't!
A miracle!
This is the happiest day of my...
Did I ever tell you about my feet?
My investigating feet.
Once upon a time, there was an old man...
-Well, are you ready for this, Rimmer? -Open it! Open it!
Well? What's there?
Are you sure you're ready for this, Rimmer?
Yes! Come on, you gimboid!
Incredible! A stupendous moment in my own personal history!
The perfectly preserved remains of a Quagaar warrior!
Yeah, right, Rimmer. Absolutely.
They must have looked something like a roast chicken.
# It's cold outside, there's no kind of atmosphere
RIMMER: It's a garbage pod!
# I'm all alone, more or less
RIMMER: It's a smegging garbage pod!
# Let me fly far away from here
# Fun, fun, fun
# In the sun, sun, sun
# I want to lie, shipwrecked and comatose
# Drinking fresh mango juice
# Goldfish shoals nibbling at my toes
# Fun, fun, fun
# In the sun, sun, sun
# Fun, fun, fun
# In the sun, sun, sun #