All language subtitles for 08-04 Cassandra

("RED DWARF" THEME)

Have you figured out a way
to get us out of here yet, Hol?

I have, actually, Dave. I've devoted all my run-time
to looking for a loophole in the prison regs,

and I think I've come up with something which means you
can serve your entire two-year sentence

in just 14 weeks.

Oh, brilliant! What have I got to do?

Become a dog.

- A dog?
- According to my data banks,

dog years are seven times shorter
than human years.

As a plan you can't fault it on its mathematics.

No, but maybe you can fault
it on the fact I'm not a dog.

Yeah, but according to a 20th-century newspaper
called "The National Enquirer",

the operation's quite straightforward,

A roverostomy, they call it.

Here's a photograph here
of a bloke who had it done.

That's a dog!

See how convincing it is?

Even you're fooled.

Become a dog. That is without doubt the stupidest,
crappiest, most pathetic plan you've come up with all week.

Give me a chance - it's only Monday.

(BEEP)

What happened to my life -
career, prospects, friends?

I had everything and I threw it all away. It's a tragedy.

What are you on about? You had none of that stuff.

You're right. I had none of that stuff.

I had absolutely nothing and I threw it all away.

It's an even bigger tragedy.

Look, We're only going to get through this
by being positive, by being...

What's that word women tennis players always
used to reckon was so important - begins with C?

Cunnilingus?

Centred. By being centred, focused.

It's only two years. What with good behaviour, it'll probably be 18 months.

Remember when you were first born,
and then you were 18 months?

The time just flashed past.

it flashed past 'cause you had two breasts big as
your head at your beck and call day and night.

Give me that now, and I wouldn't be whinging.

- What's this?
- Canary outfits and first meeting information.

I volunteered for the Canaries.

- Some bloke came round the machine shop, so I signed up.
- For the Canaries?

Yeah. Bit of close-part harmony. You should see
the list of privileges you get. Unbelievable.

- You don't know what the Canaries are do you?
- Yeah, course I do. It's a singing troop. A cappella.

# You are the sunshine of my life

# Ooh

# That's why I'll always be around... #

They're nothing to do with singing, are they?
Holly lied to me, didn't he?

He was taking the smeg!

Oh, Listy.

Listy, Listy, Listy.

Well, go on, then. What have I signed up for?

In the 19th century, when miners went down
a pit, they'd lower a canary down first in a little cage.

What, and make them do some mining?

They were sick
in the 19th century, weren't they, eh?

I mean, how much coal can a little canary get?

And if the atmosphere was noxious, as it
frequently was... guess what the canary did?

Complained to the foreman?

It died, Listy.

The canary's job was to go into the most
dangerous, unpleasant and smeggy situations,

and see if it could stay alive, then they'd know
if it was safe to send in the important people.

- Oh, I'm gonna kill him!
- How come you've never heard of the Canaries?

They've got recruitment posters all over the men's bogs.
How come you've not seen them?

When I'm in the men's toilets in prison, Rimmer, I
tend not to look around, d'you know what I'm saying?

It's like playing golf. I
concentrate on me grip,

keep me eye on the ball, and
try not to veer off to the side.

The Canaries. Do you know what they say it's supposed to stand for?

"Convict Army Nearly All Retarded
Inbred Evil Sheepshaggers."

(LAUGHS) They haven't got an X-Chromosome
to share between them!

Smeg!

- It gets worse as well.
- Ha-ha! Worse? Go on.

I signed you up, too.

I forged your signature.
I thought I was doing you a favour.

- Me? Why?
- I've signed us all up.

- Kryten, Kris. Everyone.
- No way.

No way. No way am I becoming a Canary.

It's a great honour for Floor 13,

for today we are visited by Captain Hollister,
who has a special assignment.

At last some action!

I've been going mental. All this time,
cooped up, not killing nothing. Yes!

Kill Crazy, shut up, you punk!

OK. Listen up.

We've located a ship, the SSS Silverbird,
buried at the bottom of an ocean moon.

Remote probe has come back
with no signs of a crew.

No bodily remains, no skeletons - zip.

We want you guys to go onboard
and find out why.

A-one, a-two, a-one, two, three, four.

# You are the sunshine of my life

# Ooh

# That's why I'll always be around #

Rimmer!

Sorry, sir. We appear to have wandered into the wrong
hobby group. We'll leave immediately. Go!

Rimmer! You're here and this is where you're staying. Now get on with it.

Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. You heard what the warden said.

He wants you to get on with it. From the top.

# You are the sunshine of my life... #

Rimmer!

Sorry, sir. When you said "get on with it" I thought you meant...

Shut up! You're a Canary, man! A member of the toughest
combat army this side of Pluto.

I've seen custard factories that
aren't as yellow as you are!

- Start behaving like a man.
- A man, sir.

Yes, of course, sir. A man.

A man? Perhaps if you could just remind me, sir
I'm sure it will all come back.

(CRUNCHING)

Continue, Captain.

(RATTLING)

It's inconceivable a ship like this could have be sent out without a crew,

so whatever devoured the crew, bones and all,

might still be there,

so be careful.

Let's go kill something!

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!

I hope it's got like big teeth and claws
and like loads of heads. Yeah, great!

Here we go! At last! Yeah!

(CLANG)

OK. Stay together. Keep 'em peeled.

What's that?

What? Where?

It's moving, shaking from
side to side like a leaf.

I think that's your shadow, sir.

Located the mainframe.
Maybe it can tell us something.

Good evening, Arnold. I've been looking
forward to your arrival so very much.

- How do you know my name?
- My name is Cassandra.

I am a computer with the ability
to predict the future

with an accuracy rating of 100 per cent.

Bless you.

Bless you? What do you mean 'bless you'? No-

A-choo!

You need a tissue. Kris has one in her left hand pocket. She says,
"Would you like this?" You say, "Thanks."

- Would you like this?
- Thanks.

- "Extraordinary!"
- Extraordinary!

"The questions we can ask!
It can tell us our future."

The questions we can ask!
It can tell us our future.

"But, how does it work?
The future's not happened yet."

I wasn't going to say that.

I never said you would...

But how does it work?
The future's not happened yet.

..although you do.

Smeg!

Let's ask her a question about the future.
A biggie.

OK, Cassandra, do we ever get back to Earth?
Has the human race survived?

Do I ever find my singing tie pin?

Do we want to know all this stuff about the future?

Do we want to know for example, how and when we die?

Kris is right. Something like that could mess
your life up for ever. Cassandra, I have a question.

I know, Arnold because I know
the rest of this conversation.

So what's the answer?

He chokes to death aged 181
trying to remove a bra with his teeth.

What was the question?

I just asked how you died.

You what? I didn't wanna know that!

- Whose bra?
- 181?

Probably your own.

Come on, though. Taking a bra off with me teeth
at 181, That's a hell of a sexy way to go!

So long as the teeth are in your mouth
at the time, sir.

I'm really screwed up now. I never wanted
to know that - know how I die.

It's completely spoilt the surprise!

Kryten, this is where you share your theory
with your crewmates.

I have a theory everyone. The Silverbird didn't crash,
did it, Cassandra?

The ship was sent here by the Space Corps
on autopilot to get rid of you -

to abandon you at the bottom
of a lunar sea in the depths of deep space.

That's brilliant, bud! How did you work that out?

I read it on this mission directive here.

So, there was no dead bodies on board
because the ship didn't have a crew.

A computer that unerringly predicts the future...

- ..is a dangerous thing indeed.
- is a dangerous... er... yes, precisely.

We, erm... should be making tracks.

I'm afraid that's not going to happen.
The bulkhead's just given way

and we're shipping water
at 1000 gallons a second.

All the Canaries will be dead within one hour

- except for Rimmer...
- Yes!

..who will be dead in 20 minutes.

Only Lister, Kryten, the Cat
and Kochanski survive.

What happens to Rimmer?

He has a heart attack, brought on
by the stress of knowing he's going to die

and collapses during a conversation with me
in 19 minutes and 31 seconds.

I don't believe you. I simply don't believe you.

We shall see, or rather, YOU shall see.

I have already seen.

All the hairs on the back of my neck
are standing on end.

Mine, too, and not just the ones
on the back of my neck - it's one up, all up.

Well, it's not the first time we've been
in a situation like this, is it?

Hell, no. We've drunk coffee thousands of times.

We're veterans.

Future echoes, remember?

- Future echoes - all right!
- What was that?

We learned that if the future's already decided,
you can't change it.

Yeah, but what do you know?
You're a chicken-soup machine repairman,

not Hank Handsome, Space Adventurer.

Don't get ideas above your station,

and your station is Git Central.

Hey, I've been surviving in space five, six years.

When it comes to weirdy, paradoxy space stuff,
I bought the T-shirt.

He bought it and I ironed it for him.

- Exactly.
- So, you're saying the future's the future,

and, like your underpants,
the chances of change are remote.

Well, I'm sorry. I don't accept it.

- Hey, I'm not happy about it, man.
- None of us are.

You dying is the last thing we want, bud,
especially me.

Hell, I'll probably have to help dig the hole.

Right, so to summarise: six years of space adventuring,
six years of experience and knowledge

have led you to the conclusion
that I'm totally stuffed.

Mr Rimmer has a point, sir. Your greater
knowledge is making you pessimistic, while his

ignorance and almost doe-like naivety is keeping
his mind receptive to a possible solution.

Shut your stupid flat head, you.

So you're saying when you don't know enough
to know that you don't know enough,

there's no fear holding you back - you can achieve
things which people with more brains can't.

- Precisely.
- He's got the power of ignorance.

With the ignorance he's got, that makes him
one of the most powerful men that's ever lived.

Harness your stupidity, sir.
Employ your witlessness.

Use your empty-headed simplistic
moron mind and find a solution.

OK. I've got an idea.

Kryten, replay our meeting with Cassandra in your CPU,

and tell me if at any point,
anyone ever called me Rimmer.

- What?
- (BEEPING)

At no point throughout the meeting
did anyone refer to you as Rimmer.

In fact, we barely looked at you.

That's just what I thought.

Cassandra said, "Rimmer dies," but it doesn't
necessarily follow that that means me.

- Who does it mean, then, your dad?
- Look, Cassandra doesn't know the future.

She sees pictures of it.

She could have seen another guy die of a heart
attack. Someone she's been told is *called* Rimmer.

- He's right.
- All I've got to do

is to find someone I can
introduce to Cassandra as Rimmer,

and it will be them that stiffs out and not me.

Such lowlife conniving -
it's impossible not to be impressed!

What I wouldn't give
to have your weasel gene, sir!

- Now, wait a minute.
- Oh, look, here's Mr Knot.

- You made this area secure?
- Yes, sir. Mr Knot, sir. Coffee, sir?

I've been asked by the Captain to inspect a mainframe. Where is it?

Agh! You idiot!
What the hell do you think you're doing?

Please...

Have my jacket. I insist.

Then I shall lead you to Cassandra.
There we are, sir.

A perfect fit, sir.

- Lead the way, Rimmer.
- Don't call me Rimmer!

- That's your name.
- Yes, But 'Rimmer'... its so full of nobility

and quiet courage.
Call me Arsewipe or Fishbreath.

Not Rimmer, sir. Never Rimmer, sir.

OK, Arsewipe, whatever you say.
Now, where's the mainframe?

Hello, Arnold. Bang on time.

I've brought you a visitor, Cassandra. Do you know his name?

- Yes, I do... Not..
- What?

- Not.
- Knot?

Let me finish. Not that it matters what his
name is. I mean, our relationship doesn't last very long.

- I understand you have the ability to predict...
- ..the future, yes.

- 100 per cent reli...
- ..able, yes.

What happens to me?
Do I get back to earth?

No, you die in about four seconds time of a heart attack
after hearing the news that you're going to die of a heart attack.

You filthy... (GROANS)

- Poor Rimmer.
- Yes, poor old Rimmer.

- My name is Knot...
- Your name is not what?

Knot! Knot! Knot!

- Is he dead now?
- I'm afraid so.

Yes!

He died of a massive coronary,
just as I prophesied.

Yes!

You seem inordinately happy, Arnold, but why?
You're going to die, too.

But you said... I've just...
I'm going to die, too?

I already told you. Rimmer dies of a heart attack
and then you and all the other Canaries die, too.

All except Lister, Kryten,
Kochanski and the Cat. I've seen it.

That's as well as maybe,
but you have you seen this?

Yes, I'm afraid I have.

You were right, there's nothing I can do.

According to Cassandra, our
future is decided and we four survive.

Therefore, while we are here,
we cannot die. Regard.

(GUN DOESN'T FIRE)

Duck, sir.

(BULLET RICOCHETS)

Duck again, sir!

As I thought.

So, in other words, if I...

- What's that for?
- You can't die.

Yeah, but I can still feel pain, you smegger!

So how about this? We use
our powers of invulnerability,

which will last until we return to Red Dwarf,

and surround Mr Rimmer, escort him up
to the obs deck and into the diving bell?

(LISTER) The diving bell. We've made it.

Where did he go?

Yo!

(RUSHING WATER)

- Hear that?
- Water.

- Kris, take cover. The water's coming!
- Quick, The diving bell!

Great! Everything above us is flooded

and now we're back down
in the bowels again with Cassandra.

It's coming true.

My death! It's all coming true.

You tried to cheat the future and failed,
as I knew you would.

So what happens now? How...?

How do I die?

Lister catches you making love to Kochanski

and shoots you through the head
with a harpoon gun.

Can you just double-check that?

I've seen it. It's what happens -
in the old laundry room.

So let me just repeat what I think you're saying.

Arnold - that's me -

and Kochanski - that's the woman,
the really attractive one you saw earlier -

me and her are in bed giving it rizz...

when Lister - that's the short, dumpy one
with the stupid haircut -

walks in and shoots me through the head
while I'm making love with Kochanski?

That is what is going to happen.

Fantastic!

- I can't believe what you're telling me.
- I can scarcely believe it myself.

I mean, obviously you're incredibly attractive, I never thought you'd look at me twice.

Neither did I!

But, apparently, we're gonna make love.
Unbe-smegging-lievable or what?

- It's not warm in here. Fancy a wee nip?
- No, no no no...

But why would I want to sleep with you?
I mean it doesn't make sense.

Maybe you get blind-drunk.

That doesn't excuse my other four senses.

Right. Barely an hour to go.
Shall we get started?

I mean, let's face it,
you can't change the future - sadly.

But you said you could.

Yeah, I've changed my mind now.

Look, are you sure you wouldn't
prefer to play the opera game instead?

Kris, it's what Cassandra saw.
You can't cheat fate.

Well, just watch me. Because there is no way on earth that I'm climbing
out of my clothes and clambering into that bed.

My clothes are soaking!

Why don't you take them off and dry them on the heater.

It's coming true. It's all coming true.

It's coming true. It's all coming true!

(GROANS)

Bud, you can't go back there.

Cassandra said Kris survives,

and the only way that's gonna happen
is if someone goes back in and saves her.

Chuck us that harpoon gun, will ya?

(SINGS CHEERFULLY)

# Ba-la-bup-doodle-up-bap! #

I'm not sure about this. This is the first time
I've ever seduced by predeterminism theory.

One hour exactly.

Oh, bloody buggering hell!

Tonight must be the night
they put the clocks forward!

I've got it.

That's more than I did.

I've worked it all out.

I never get any breaks ever!
20 seconds later, you could have been on top

and I could have used you as a human shield.

I must have been mad. What the hell
was I thinking? I felt sorry for you.

- Look, will you shut up and listen to me.
- No, why aren't you mad that I'm in bed with him?

'Cause I know WHY you're in bed with him!

- I also know that I don't kill him.
- Oh, but Cassandra promised.

Cassandra made that up
to force you two together,

so that you'd feel sorry for him and
hopefully end up sleeping with him.

- So, why did she say she saw it happen?
- To try and make it happen.

- But why?
- To try and punish me.

Punish you? Why?

'Cause Cassandra knows and has
always known how she dies.

She's trying to make me suffer now for something I'm destined to do in the future.

You kill her, don't you?

That's why she hates you because she
knows you're going to kill her.

That's what this whole thing was about.

Kryten figured it out.

Kryten figured it out, did he? Good old Kryten (!)

But did he really have to figure it out
quite so damn fast?

Would it have killed him to take
30 minutes longer? Ten minutes even?

Two would have done.

I'm gonna take care of the rest of it now.

I'll erm... see you two lovebirds later.

Look... Thanks for being with me tonight.

I can't think of anyone I'd rather share
my final hour with than you.

I really mean that.

I'm not all bad. In fact, sometimes,
I'm quite sweet and sensitive.

Bye.

By the way...

Is it OK if I keep these?

If the future's all worked out - horoscopes, all that
stuff - it means we're not responsible for anything we do.

It means we're just actors saying lines in a
script that's been written by somebody else.

I don't want to believe that. I want to believe
I'm in charge of me own life. Me own destiny.

So I'm not gonna kill you, Cassandra.
I'm out of here.

But you DO kill me. I've seen it.

Tomorrow's a new day - a fresh page
in a book that's not been written yet.

What happens in the future is up to me,

not some predetermined-destiny smeg.

I'll see you, kidder.

Smeg.

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 #