Original subtitles

("RED DWARF" THEME)

Amazing. The last strawberry in the universe.

Calibrator locked and set. Organic infrastructure recorded and stored.

Engage the triplicator.

- (HISSES) - It works!

- What works? - We've adapted the matter paddle.

Only now the returning signal is split three ways,

so as well as receiving the original object, we also get two identical copies.

This will solve all our supply problems.

Taking into account the computations for recalibration,

I think we can produce four, perhaps even five strawberries a week.

Well, I don't know if the Nobel Prize people run a fruit section,

but if they do, you've got to be this year's hot tip.

Gentlemen, history beckons.

You'll be famous. They'll build your statues, even name towns after you.

"Dorksville" springs instantly to mind.

- This machine could revolutionise our lives. - Absolutely.

With this little baby running at full pelt,

I confidently predict we could have a full fruit salad by the end of the year.

Look, it's not just strawberries. This machine can duplicate anything. It can...

Sir, what's wrong?

This strawberry's incredible! So succulent.

It's divine.

- Is that the same? - Oh, no, no!

- How's it different? - It's bitter, rancid.

- Sir, I, um... - Kind of tangy.

- Sir, ... - Crunchy.

- Sir. - Tangy. Kind of chewy.

Meaty, even. It's a... funny kind of wriggly texture.

Oh, smeg!

It's as if the triplicator has extracted all the very best elements out of one duplicate

and the very worst from the other.

So what would happen if we reversed the process?

Ah yes.

Nice experiment, guys. What do you do for an encore? Neutron bomb juggling?

- (ALARM SOUNDS) - 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.

Well, thankfully Holly's unaffected.

She's right! The engine core is approaching critical mass. We'll have meltdown in less than 15 minutes!

Er, I think a brisk stroll in the direction of the cargo bay could be an outstanding career move at this point.

Are you really saying Red Dwarf's gonna blow?

In less time than it takes a Norwegian to buy ski boots.

Hey, guys! I think they're playing our tune "The Awooga Waltz". Anyone care to join me in a quickstep?

(RIMMER) Holly, open cargo bay doors.

(NERVOUSLY) Er, Holly, those cargo bay doors we talked about earlier,

- would you mind opening them, please? - Holly! The doors, Holly!

The phrase "Cargo bay doors" does not appear to be in my lexicon.

- Manual override! - The phrase "Manual override" doesn't a-

Oh, forget it!

That's eighty klicks. We should be clear of any possible blast zone.

- You really think it's going to blow? - This can't be happening.

Nothing's gonna happen. We're just here as a precaution.

The whole ship's full of fail-safes anyway -

cooling systems, containment panels, vacuum shields...

The chances of it blowing are about one in...

..one.

Well, according to the charts,

the nearest asteroid with an S3 atmosphere is six hours away.

The trouble is we only have enough fuel for five hours' flight.

I don't think that's going to prove to be a major problem, though,

because we only have enough oxygen for seven minutes.

(MUTTERS) Well, that doesn't really affect us, does it?

- (MUTTERS) Sorry, sir? - We don't need oxygen.

Now, here's a thought. If we ejected their corpses into outer space,

would the weight reduction allow us to reach the asteroid?

- Come on, Rimmer, that's not the attitude. - Sorry?

That's not the Red Dwarf way. One in trouble, all in trouble.

- The posse. - Boys from the Dwarf.

- If one of us is in a fix, the Homeboys band together. - That's the way it is.

Have you got anything in writing?

You're a toad, Rimmer. You're a weasel.

You're a slimy river-dwelling rodent with the morals of a praying mantis.

I'm just being a realist. Look, you only have seven minutes left to live.

That's tragic. God, it's tragic!

- But for the rest of us, life must go on. - If I may interject, sir, in your case that's not exactly true.

Remember, you are operating on emergency battery supplies. We have no spares.

In fact, you yourself, sir, will expire in a little under four minutes.

...OK, homeboys, let's posse!

- Right, Kryten, get a radar scope, scan the wreckage. - Straight away, sir.

Cat, get suited up. Maybe some oxygen tanks have survived.

Maybe some fuel tanks. If we get a fix, and we can get out there, and bring them on-board.

Meanwhile, turn Rimmer down to minimum power. That way it'll triple his running time.

Sirs, there's something out there.

Two objects, far too vast to be debris.

According to the backlog, they materialised just before the explosion.

- Can we get in any closer? - Enhance maximum.

(COMPUTER WHIRRS)

(KRYTEN) Of course. The triplicator has made two copies of Red Dwarf.

How?

Well, presumably, when I threw the triplicator into reverse

it didn't reverse the process, it reversed the field of the beam. Projecting it out, not in.

So, instead of the copying the strawberries, it copied the entire ship?

Precisely. And presumably, the resultant power drain exposed the engine's core, and caused the original to blow.

So, like the strawberries, there are two new Red Dwarfs,

one succulent and divine,

- the other... - Fish bait.

So what's the problem? We got us a ship. And from what you're saying it should be better than the original.

- Not quite. - In the lab, the triplicated copies had a limited lifespan.

- How limited? - About an hour.

Well, there may be a solution. The contents of the ship should be triplicated too.

So, there will be a working triplicator on-board whichever of the ships is the superior.

You see, theoretically, we can reverse the reversal

and replicate the original Red Dwarf by amalgamating the two copies.

He makes it sound so simple.

We have to find a terminal to re-boost Mr Rimmer's battery pack. We'll catch you up.

(CELESTIAL MUSIC)

Check that music. It's magnificent! I never heard anything like it before.

(INHALES) Ooh! Get a lungful of that air, man!

Hmm! Makes you feel good to be alive.

Everything about this ship is... well, it's divine.

Hey, let's check the food.

- What did you order? - Ultimate test - Pot Noodle.

(BOTH) Mmm!

I tell you one thing, I've been to a parallel universe, seen time running backwards,

played pool with planets and I've given birth to twins,

but I never thought in my entire life I'd taste an edible Pot Noodle.

Brothers, we bid you welcome.

There must be much you do not understand. Come.

You're me but you're not me...?

I am part of you, your higher self. Your spiritual side. I exist in you as potential.

Now I'm here, extrapolated from your being.

Extrapo-what-alated? Buddy, there is no way are you part of me.

No part of me would ever be seen alive in sandals.

I find clothes a distraction from the pursuit of spiritual and intellectual fulfilment.

That's weird because I find spiritual and intellectual fulfilment

a distraction from the pursuit of clothes.

Let us join our friends in the meditation chamber. Perhaps then we can spend a profitable evening

seeking out answers to the metaphysical conundra that have plagued mankind since time began.

- Sounds wild. - Hold me back.

Philosophy, poetry, music and study. That is how we spend our time.

Trying to expand our minds and unlock our full potential in the service of humankind.

What a pair of losers.

Oh! More visitors. Come, soul-sibling, let us prepare some refreshments.

May your path lead to wisdom, and in wisdom know ye peace.

These guys are supposed to be part of us? I don't buy it.

These are our higher selves. They are the people we could have become

if all the negative aspects of our characters were removed.

- You mean hippies? - With respect sir, you think Jesus was a hippy.

He was. He had long hair and he didn't have a job. What more do you want?

How come they're so much smarter than we are?

This is my guess - your mind records everything. Everything you see, hear, every word you read, every conversation.

It's all stored in your subconscious.

Somehow, our higher selves have access to that knowledge.

Look, I'm getting itchy feet here. You got the gizmo, let's scram

before the Mad Monk Brothers rope us into an evening of philosophical musings and self-flagellation.

It's not that simple. This triplicator has only half the vital components.

We need the second triplicator from the "low" ship.

(DING!)

Let the entertainment begin.

There will be haiku readings, poetry recitals and musings on the inner soul.

But first, music and dance.

Brother Rimmer is portraying agony.

The agony of the soul as he searches out the truth.

The truth danced by Brother Cat.

(DING!)

- But truth is elusive. - It flits like a firefly through the cold night of the soul,

teasing, confusing.

And agony, in torment, searches forever in vain.

- Brothers, I am compelled to intrude. - What is it, sister?

I am receiving a weak but plaintive distress call from a ship which appears to be identical to our own.

Then, we must help them. With haste, brothers.

(WHIRRS)

Approach pattern plotted. Let's just take her in nice and easy.

OK, keep 'em peeled, guys.

Welcome, brothers. We bring food and medical supplies.

(GUNSHOT)

Poor devil. His gun must have gone off accidentally.

Welcome, my children. We bring you balms and tinctures.

I come in peace to sing you healing hymns.

- Is he dead? - We can only hope.

Oh! The poor wretch! He has a faulty gun.

He accidentally shot me five times. Oh, how I love him!

Brother, there is a grievous fault with thine weapon. It keepeth shooting people.

You see? There it goes again.

- What is this? - It's a greeting gift. A sparkling welcome orb.

Come, let us embrace its splendid beauty and share in its vibrations.

It's exquisite, divine. What does it say to you, brother?

(SNIGGERS)

(GRUNTS AND SLURPS)

(MANIC MUTTERING)

(WHISPERS) Rimmer?

Rimmer?

Rimmer?

Rimmer?

- Rimmer? - Looking for someone?

Holy smeg!

Hello, my pretty.

What do you want with me?

- I want to hurt you. - Why?

Because I'm not a very nice person.

A holo-whip.

I'm going to lash you to within an inch of your life.

And then I'm going to have you.

(LAUGHS)

(ALL LAUGH SCORNFULLY)

(LAUGHTER ECHOES)

Sirs, we're running short of time. We have less than 20 minutes to find the second triplicator and set it up.

I suggest we divide our efforts.

- A sage suggestion, brother. - Perhaps I should go with Brother Cat?

You haven't got a weapon.

We have no need of weapons, feline brother. We wear protective herbs.

- I'm going with Bot-Brain. - As you wish, brother.

Thank you, friend.

- It is ready. - Put it in his spine. (SNIGGERS)

Wake up. You don't want to miss the pain.

Can you feel the needles as they burrow into your spine?

(SNIGGERS)

You guys are two lettuces short of an allotment.

- What are you after? - We want your vessel.

- Nothing works here, man. - Everything is in decay.

And here is how we're going to get it.

(GRUNTING AND SNIGGERING)

- I can't move. - Of course not.

He hasn't turned you on yet.

- Show him. - (SNIGGERS)

(BLEEP)

(BLEEP)

- He applauds our efforts. - Maybe he'd like to go for a little walk.

- Game over now, eh? Game over? - I wonder what's in that supply cabinet?

(CRUNCH)

(THEY CACKLE AND SNIGGER)

Oh, no! No.

(LOW KRYTEN) I wonder if he'd like a drink to calm him down?

No!

(CACKLING)

Whoops!

(POT HISSES)

- Perhaps he'd like something to eat. - (THEY CACKLE)

Yes!

Oh! You guys have got to be yanking my chain!

Bon appetit.

(SNIGGERS)

- Welcome to our team. - No way are you part of me.

Oh, yes, he is. He's the little boy who pulled the legs off insects,

he's the little boy who, on a hot summer's day, held a magnifying glass to his best friend's neck

and watched him buuuuurn!

He's the part of you who wants all your friends to fail.

The part of you that loves to watch horror movies.

The part of you that lusts after meaningless sex.

He's cruel. He's selfish.

He thinks terrible... mmm... things.

He's you.

Ah, but he...he kills.

- I'm not capable of that. - Ah, we'll soon see about that.

- Ugh! - Whew! Phew!

Hmm... Nice movie collection.

"Revenge of the Mutant Splat Gore Monster".

"Die Screaming with Sharp Things in Your Head".

Gore movies. Weapons magazines.

This is a shrine to everything that's low and base,

everything designed to sicken the soul and shrivel the spirit.

Urgh! Toastie Toppers.

Urgh!

Cinema hot dogs.

Oh! Sweaty kebabs with stringy brown lettuce coming out. Oh!

Look at this music - "Hammond Heaven", "Karaoke Krazy",

"Peter Perfect Plays Tuneful Tunes for Elderly Ladies".

- Let's get outta here. - Oh, wait. Here it is!

Oh. Clearly, they have no idea as to its purpose.

- How long do we have? - Barely eight minutes, sir.

Have I told today how much I love thee, brother?

How much my heart glimmers like a newborn star when I gaze upon thine peachiest countenance?

Thy love refreshes and cleanses me like a babbling mountain stream, brother

(MUFFLED) Mmmmwwwwmm! Mmmnnph!

Hist yonder, your likeness, brother?

(THEY SNEER AND CACKLE)

Mwww mmffff mmm! Fwwm mmw mmmrrrm!

A knife. Are you hungry, brother?

I have pulses and a little curd for your refreshment.

Forgive me, brother. I appear to have stained thy knife-end with my blood.

A thousand apologies.

Brother, permit me to furnish you with a fresh knife.

Farewell, brother, my brook is babbled.

(THEY GRUNT AND SNEER)

(CRACK)

I found Goalpost-Head. No sign of Dormouse-Cheeks, though.

- Sir, we were so worried, what happened? - We were ambushed by a platoon of Lows.

- I was leading a valiant rearguard action. - I found him shivering in a box.

- It was a tactical manoeuvre to outfox the enemy - As was using his uniform as a temporary latrine.

- Sir, where is Mr Lister? - We got jumped.

He ran off through the storage bay like a gazelle on steroids. We'll just have to leave him.

In four minutes, this ship will no longer exist.

- Hey, there he is! - Mmmwww! Hwwwmmm!

What took you so long, buddy?

- What? - Look out! I'm gonna kill ya!

I'm a homicidal maniac. My body's being remote-controlled by the Lows.

Kryten, look out!

You gotta stop me!

- Shoot him! - What?!

- Blow his kneecaps off, it's the only way! - Give me a break, Rimmer!

He's homicidal maniac. Put him down!

There must be some other way. You've got to incapacitate me somehow.

There, Kryten. Hit him over the head with that axe.

- That'll kill me! - Not if he does it gently.

- He's killing the Cat. - Oh, what can I do?

Incapacitate me in a painless way.

(CRUNCH)

(GASPS) That was unnecessary.

Unnecessary? Look what you've done to my neckline. This stuff never springs back.

Oh, my God! I think I'm going for the bazookoid!

Duck!

Left!

Right!

I'm trying to reload! Someone get behind me!

- I'm going to come round behind you now, sir. - OK, Kryten, take me by surprise.

I'm coming round behind you and taking you by surprise, sir.

Get on with it! Surprise me!

You may get an unpleasant sensation of chloroform, don't be alarmed.

- Surprise me now! - Here comes my surprise, sir.

OK. How long before the triplicator activates?

Less than two minutes.

(KRYTEN) Hurry!

(ENGINE WHEEZES)

(CAT) Damn! A flat battery. Who left the lights on?

No, it's the magnetic coils, they've depolarised.

It's as if the decay on this ship is in some way contagious.

- 55 seconds. - Try the back-up.

(ENGINE ROARS)

Let's get out of here.

Yep. All systems check.

(RIMMER) We're up. Looking good.

- Not again! - (RIMMER) Watch where you're steering!

- Chloroform him! - Oh wait. I think I've located the spinal implant.

- Where is it? I've lost it. - It's in his neck.

Holly's back!

Mr Lister, wake up, sir. It's over, we're safe now.

Engaging autopilot. Course zero zero mark zero. Taking her home.

See what you did to my blouson? Look at it.

- Plus, you almost killed me three times. - Sorry, it wasn't my fault.

- Once you get one of them things in you, you just go kind of- - Sir, what's wrong?

- I think he just sat on the spinal implant. - But it doesn't make sense. Who's controlling him?

(SNIGGERING)

I'd better remove the implant and destroy it once and for all.

Uh-uh. Wait a minute. Just give me one week, that's all I ask.

What are you talking about?

Boy, this is gonna be fun.

# It's cold outside, there's no kind of atmosphere

# I'm all alone, more or less

# 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 #