All language subtitles for 10-02 Fathers And Suns

(TYRES SCREECH)

(SIRENS WAIL)

(AUTOMATIC GUNFIRE)

(GUNSHOTS)

(HORNS BLARE)

Ohh!

Man.

Oww! Hey, bud. Where you been?

Just got back from the Dentibot.
I needed a filling.

Bet you chickened, though, right?

Soon as that robo-drill started
screeching, I bet you were gone.

Yeah. How do you know that?

You're still wearing a bib.

Who needs a dental bot anyway, man?

Half a bottle of GELF hooch,
can't feel a thing now.

Anywhere.

Starting to worry, actually.

If it was me,
I'd get my teeth fixed, Gummy.

Otherwise in a couple of years,
you'll be flossing with towrope.

Eeh, eeh, eeh.

(GUNSHOT)

- Can you hear that?
- Hear what?

That! Can't you hear it?

It's driving me crazy.

All over the ship, wherever I go,
there's this really annoying whiny sound.

Yeah, it's you. Stop talking, it goes.

Still there.

You're still talking!

Lister. This ship is falling apart.
I need some help.

Don't look at me, Rimmer. I am busy today.

Busy? And what are you doing today
that makes you so "busy"?

I'm getting drunk.

That's your day?

Not just any old drunk.

I'm talking traffic-cone-hugging,
pavement-licking kershnickered.

That's my day. Cheers.

Er...what's this?

Ah, I'm making a Father's Day card.

You're making a Father's Day card?

You? Who to?

Well, let's round up the suspects,
shall we, Sherlock?

First up, there's me dad.

But you're your dad.

You went back in time
and left your baby self

under a pool table in a cardboard box.

You're your own dad.

So therefore I shouldn't get
any Father's Day cards?

It's not my fault that due to some
time-travelly paradoxy sci-fi smeg

I happen to be my own dad.

I do this every year.

I write myself a "Thanks for being
such an amazing dad" card,

then I drink myself into oblivion
so I forget what I've written,

and then 12 months later, on Father's Day,
which, by the way, happens to be today,

Kryten delivers a Father's Day card
and I haven't got a clue what it says.

How cool is that?!

- Morning, sirs!
- Oh, he hasn't!

Oh, I think he has, sir.

He never forgets his old dad.

I don't know how he finds the time,

what with all the things
he's up to as well.

Aww.

Look at that!

Dreads!

Brilliant!

I mean, how funny is that?

Oh! What a brilliant card.

Made it himself, you know.

Oh, look, a bit of poppadom!

Poppadom!

Aww.

Aww.

Aww!

So thoughtful.

- Aww.
- Wait a minute.

How can you even stand your dad?

He abandoned you in a pub
in a cardboard box.

The only thing he's ever given you
your whole life

is a rattle and a few air holes.

What kind of a dad is that?

That's true, yeah.

That's right.

That's...that's not right, that, is it?

There it is again, that whiny sound.

You're talking again!

RIMMER: Number 32-12 required,

and a replacement
valve-housing gasket for 17.

Noted, sir.

I thought the new computer
was supposed to be helping with all this.

It's not uploaded yet, sir. Later today.

MACHINE: Hey, Kryten, how's it going?
Great night last night.

You can say that again, 16!

We had quite a night of it
last night, sir.

Me and a bunch of the dispensing machines
got together and played Chinese Whispers.

We had so much fun.

Now, the sentence started as,

"I slit the sheet, the sheet I slit,
on the slit sheet, I..."

- Kryten.
- Yes, sir?

- Shut up.
- Yes, sir.

I'm not remotely interested in some
stupid parlour game you were playing

with a talking condom machine
and two Lil-Let dispensers.

Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Thank you, sir.

While we're at it, Chinese Whispers -
isn't that racist?

Basically, what you're saying
is that Chinese people

can't convey a simple piece of information
to one another.

Now, if that's the case, how come
they invented acupuncture, gunpowder...

laundry, and those funny little hats?

Chinese Whispers -
it's offensive, racist and wrong.

Ask around, I think you'll find I'm right.

So, how can I help?

I need some advice.
I wanna be a better father to my son.

What kind of person is your son?

Ooh, tough question.

If I had to sum him up in one word,
it would be...ohh...

awesome?

And he's smart.

I mean, OK, not book-smart, but that's
only cos he hasn't read any books.

If he had, then who knows?!

And he's a killer guitarist.

You know, when he's had a few,
he is up there with Hendrix.

So what's the problem?

He's in a rut.

He's not going anywhere.

No job, no girlfriend, and to be honest,

I know I shouldn't,
but I kind of blame myself.

So he's a total bum.

Total bum?! I don't think so.

A bum, maybe, but total bum? No way.

(BLEEPING) Ah! That's weird.
I don't seem to have your son on file.

Ah, well, there's a reason for that.

He should register! He's missing out
on a whole raft of privileges.

Is he?

Free Christmas champagne!

His own TV and game package!

It'll only take five minutes.

Quick medical, so we can set up his bios
for stasis, and he's done.

What's his name?

- Dave.
- Same as you!

I'll open a file for him right now.

Done. OK, here's what I think.

Tough love.

Tough love.

Set him goals.

He doesn't achieve those goals,
kick his butt.

Kick it hard! Tough love.

- Tough love?
- Tough love.

That's a great question, Kryten.
Is Chinese Whispers racist?

Leave it with me. I'll do some research.

Hi, Garby.

So you're a cat of the world -
what do you think?

Eh, I dunno, 16.

But you got me intrigued.

Let me ask around.

Thank goodness for that derelict, sir.

I am just so excited at the prospect
of having a new computer!

We so miss Holly.

It's true - we just don't get the same
quality of cock-up these days, do we?

OK, sir. The computer is ready to launch.

Here we go, the "pref" menus.

Ah.

Male or female?

Female. Not really bothered.

Doesn't really matter. Female.

Age - 25, 50, or 75?

Whatever.

Let's not get held back by this, Kryten.

25.

Blonde or brunette?

Honestly don't care.
It doesn't matter. Not important.

Blonde.

Breast size.

I can't honestly believe they actually
still ask that question these days.

It's absolutely ludicrous, it really is.

I totally agree with you, sir.

I'll choose the first one.

- 30A.
- Hang on!

What's the hurry, Kryten?

Everyone knows you don't just pick
the first thing that comes into your head.

What's that one down there at the bottom?

That's...a 36D, sir.

Fine. Go with that one.

Whatever.

36D it is.

- I've already highlighted 30A, sir.
- Kryten,

don't argue. 36D it is.

- But sir!
- Kryten, it's not important.

I don't know why you're making
such a fuss about this.

36D. Select it. Moving on.

But I'm not making a fuss, sir.

- I'm just...
- OK, I'm pulling rank.

I order you to select 36D
as the breast size for the new computer.

And that's an order.

Selected, sir.

Ah, now...

Personality.

- Whatever.
- Oh.

Accent?

Whatever.

- Frame size.
- Your call. Let's launch. Who cares?

KRYTEN: Close-up chosen.

Ah, there we go.

Oh, I really like that frame size,
don't you, sir?

Hey-hey! Ooh!

Hello. My name's Pree.

It will take a few moments
for my database to initialise.

Oww! Nice pixels!
Hey, buds, what's happening?

We're just launching
the new computer, sir.

Here we go.

Greetings, gentlemen.

My name is Pree,
and I will be your new ship computer.

I have many functions,
including predictive behaviour technology.

- Predictive what?!
- Like predictive text on a cell phone,

predictive behaviour technology

anticipates your actions
based on past behaviour

and performs
the rest of the action for you.

- How's she able to do that?!
- Well, best guess,

she builds behavioural algorithms
from the ship's security footage,

so she's able to guess
how we're most likely to behave

in any given situation.

Exactly right, Kryten.

What about maintenance?

Can you repair the ship's
engineering faults?

I already anticipated
you'd ask me that question, Arnold,

and I've repaired all the faults
on B Deck already.

There is now a 98% probability
you will discuss

my potential for changing your lives

and reach the conclusion that you're
looking forward to seeing me in action.

You now no longer need to have this
conversation and can do something else.

So now we don't have that conversation

and move straight on
to the next conversation?

Your next conversation

is a conversation about
not having the previous conversation,

saying you were looking forward
to the previous conversation,

and now feel a bit lost,
not having had that conversation.

You conclude you will probably get used to
hearing the results of your conversations

and no longer having
the conversations yourselves.

Hey! New computer!

Predictive.

Knows what you're likely to say and do
in any given situation.

Heh-hey, that could come in handy!

Got a job for you.

I know.

(GROANS)

Kebab pillow.

I must have got trashed last night.

Throbbo.

What's this?

Don't remember making this.

Hi, son.

It's your old dad here.

- Dad!
- Here's the plan.

I'm gonna give you some advice.

Kind of a "do as I say, not as I do"
kind of style.

Then I'm gonna get totally trashed
so I forget what I've said,

and then when you watch this,

you'll feel like you've got a totally
normal, ordinary, regular dad, yeah?

I don't remember making this.

Rimmer's right.

I've never been a proper dad to you.

Never watched you play zero-gee,

never encouraged you, gave you advice,

kicked your big fat butt
when it needed kicking.

Maybe that's why
you've ended up like this.

Like what?

You're a big, big disappointment to me,
David, you really are.

- What?
- No ambition. Sitting about.

Wasting your life away.

And you're not looking after yourself.

And you drink too much.

It's getting worse.

I'm doing OK.

"I'm doing OK," you're probably saying.

"I'm doing OK." But you're not.

I mean, you could have been so much
more, and-and you know it.

Who are you to tell me what to do?
What have you ever done with your life?

(BOTTLES CLANK)

(MORE BOTTLES CLANK)

You've gotta get yourself an education.

At least get good at something,
and then...

and then build a home, a proper home,
and then go and find Krissy.

And how do I do all of that?

Er..

Step one.

Enrol in the Jupiter Mining Corporation
engineering programme.

Er, step two, get that filling fixed.

And then play the next message.

So!

You had to enrol in the Jupiter
engineering mining programme

and get that filling fixed.

How did it go, eh?
D'you make your old man proud?

You didn't do it did you, David?

No!!

You just skipped ahead to the next
message to see what I'd say, didn't you?

Yes, Dad.

I knew you'd do that. It was a test.

- Sorry, Dad.
- Now, get your filling fixed,

no messing,
then play message three, yeah?

What, d'you think I'm stupid?
Is that what do you think?

D'you think I'm stupid, eh?

Get the filling fixed,
then play the next message!

What the smeg?

Don't swear.

How the smeg d'you know
I was gonna swear?

Let me make one thing
crystal clear, young man.

I will not be having any of your nonsense.

While you're living under my roof,
on my spaceship,

you abide by my rules.

And if you don't like it
well, you know what you can do.

Now, if you skip ahead one more time,

I'm gonna flush that guitar of yours
out of an airlock.

Now, get the filling done now.

Thought I'd finally do
what you wanted, did you?

Well, you got that wrong.

Message four. Good.
We're finally making some progress.

- Wrong!
- Finally learned a little bit of respect.

- Wro-ong!
- By the way, see your guitar?

Go on. Go over there.

Give us a song.

What's he up to?

Have a look out of that porthole there.

See that tiny speck
half a light year away?

That's your Gibson Les Paul, that is.

No!

Tough love. D'you want some more?

Now, enrol in the mech engineering
programme and get the filling done now!

Or you'll get some more Daddy Discipline.

I really loved that guitar!
You don't understand me!

I hate you! Bastard!

Evening, Pree.

Glad you had such a good day, Arnold.

So sorry this evening's
going to be such a nightmare.

Ah, but it's not.
I'm gonna put my feet up and watch TV.

Put on Victory South for me, will you?

A fascinating drama series about the
American Civil War where the South win.

Loved series one,
really looking forward to series two.

I deleted all 24 episodes
earlier this morning, Arnold.

What?!

I watched them all yesterday,
and you didn't enjoy them.

But I haven't seen them.

But if you had,
you wouldn't have enjoyed them.

But series one was brilliant!
Why didn't I enjoy them?

All your favourite characters
were killed off,

including the busty blonde heroine
with no personality.

Aww, I loved her.

What am I supposed to do now?

I thought you could use that time
more fruitfully,

perhaps finally reading War And Peace.

I want to unwind, relax.

Not read a book that's longer
than Rapunzel's pubic hair.

Sir, come quickly!
B Deck is in total disarray!

B Deck, the floor Pree repaired?
Pree, what's happened?

I thought you were gonna repair all this!

I did. And thanks to

my predictive capabilities,
I was able to carry out the repairs

in the exact manner
you would have instructed.

It's one botch-up after another,

with no regard to safety procedures
or good workmanship!

Exactly.

How can you be a top computer
if you do something like this?

I didn't, Arnold, you did.

I merely duplicated
what you would have done.

I don't understand!

I'm programmed to align myself
with the ship's senior officer

so computer and crew can perform as one.

What the senior officer would do,
I do for them.

You're saying because I would have cocked
all this up, you cocked it all up for me?

Precisely.

Well, this is really embarrassing.
What do I do now?

You now have a conversation with Kryten
where you blame him for everything

and then stride off indignantly.

There is now no need
to have this conversation

and you go straight to your exit.

Is this the line for the Dentibot?

Get in the queue, bud.

What's up?

Oh, filling.
Finally decided to get it done.

Got a question for you.
Been driving everyone nuts.

If anyone knows, you'll know.

Here's the question.

Are Chinese whiskers racist?

- Are Chinese whiskers racist?
- Mmm.

D'you mean those wispy little
Mandarin beards like Fu Manchu?

Exactly.

Dunno. D'you know who might know?

That Asian fast-food machine on B Deck.

- Taiwan Tony?
- Taiwan Tony. Bet he'll know.

Why would he know?!

Cos Taiwan Tony's from Taiwan,
and Taiwan's a bit... Chinesey.

Taiwan's a bit Chinesey?

Of course it is!

I'll ask him.

(WHISTLES)

Hang on, what are you doing here?

Heard we're nearly out of anaesthetic.
Thought I'd grab the last tank.

We've only got one tank of anaesthetic?

One tank, and I'm gonna grab it!

But you don't need it, right?

Don't need it now. But one day I will!

I'm always collecting things I don't need
for when I need 'em.

You got to think ahead!

But I need that anaesthetic now.

See? You didn't think ahead!

This is what I'm saying.
You got to think ahead.

Look, I've got a cavity a stretch limo
could do a three-point turn in.

I need that anaesthetic.
How about we share?

Hey, bud, never ask a Cat to share.

As a smash in the face often offends!

- (BINGING)
- Hey, that's me!

Wish me luck.

You realise we are out of anaesthetic.

It's only pain, right?

I can handle it.

Proves I'm alive.

I embrace it.

And as for the brain-smouldering agony,
I've been told I'm not squeamish.

I can certainly watch
those medical programmes

where they pull the beating heart
out of a human chest and still eat pizza.

So, a new filling, without anaesthetic?
I say come on,

bring it on.

Let the drilling commence.

(DRILL WHIRRS)

Hey, that's the second bib
we've lost this week!

Great chow mein.

(PARODY "ASIAN" ACCENT)
Oh, you like the chow mein?

That good. I make it myself.

- Got a question for you.
- Hmm?

Are Chinese whiskers racist?

Ohh. That a very strange question, Mr Cat.

Leave with me. I ask people.

People who pass, I ask, every time.

Thanks.

Did you get that filling done?

Yes, sir. I did, sir.

All filled up. All done.

Don't you lie to me, David Lister.

You chickened out again, didn't you?

Yes, Dad.

Well, this is gonna hurt me
a lot more than it's gonna hurt you.

But you... you leave me no choice.

Ohh!

Hello? Aspirin.

Hello?

I'm afraid the dispensers, Dave, are only
programmed to serve registered crew.

Oh, new computer, hi!

I am registered crew.

Not any longer, former crewman.

You resigned from Red Dwarf last night.

Resigned? You what?

Oh, that wasn't me! That was me dad!

Who, OK, is me, but it wasn't me
that resigned, it was him.

Look, we'll start again. I'm me,

and my dad's me,
because I'm my own dad.

Now, to teach me a lesson,
he - my dad - resigned.

Although he resigned and he is me,
I don't wanna resign cos I'm not him,

even though he's me.

It's clear.

Totally clear, former crewman.

Don't say "former crewman"!
Present crewman.

Your resignation has just been processed

and your free oxygen allowance
will terminate today at noon.

That's... ten minutes' time!

D'you know what?
I'll just re-enlist.

The only way to re-enlist is to apply
for one of the JMC undergrad programmes.

Ha! Yeah. That was his plan all along.

Just one question, former crewman.

Are you 21 or under?

Well, my haircut is. Does that count?

I'm sorry, former crewman.

That makes you ineligible
for the programme.

And since the JMC is no longer obligated
to provide you with oxygen,

your free supply will end
in eight minutes and counting.

Ooh! I really need oxygen,
it's really important to me lifestyle!

You need to leave.

I'm not going anywhere.
Where will I go? I'm not leaving.

You're leaving.

No, I'm not. I'm staying here.

You just watch me not leave.

WOMAN'S VOICE: Dave!

Is that you?

Dave!

(DRAMATIC MUSIC PLAYS)

My friend, Mr Cat,
he has very strange question.

So, I ask everyone who pass.

See if they know.

What's the question, TT?

Do...

Chinese knickers have braces?

"Do Chinese knickers have braces?"

Well, I suppose some of them do.

Maybe for that extra feeling
of security if, say,

you're a woman jumping
out of a plane in a skirt.

That what I thought!

Who wants their pants flying off
at 10,000 feet?

It a long way down,
and draughty all the way.

Leave it with me, TT. I'll ask around.

Oh, you know who might know?

Dispenser 55, down on G Deck.

Don't waste your time! He know nothing!

He all pre-package! All microwave!

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

(ALARM BLARES)

No way. Can someone help?!

Help me!

I'm being apprehended!

Kryten, help me!

I'm being chucked out!

Your JMC oxygen subscription
will end in 30 seconds.

Hang on, I've gotta get my gloves on!

And counting.

Look, I'm not ready!
I've gotta get my stuff on!

Expulsion time, ten seconds and counting.

(MUFFLED COMPLAINTS)

Ten.

- Nine. Five. Four.
- Just give us ten seconds...!

Aaah!

That wasn't ten seconds!

Thank you for breathing JMC oxygen,
and we hope sometime in the future

you'll decide to breathe our oxygen again.

Have a safe onward journey. Goodbye.

(ALARM BLARES)

What the hell is that?

An airlock's opened,
and the ship's just ejected something!

Oh! It looks like a little man
in a spacesuit!

That's not a man. That's Lister.

What's he doing out there?!

- Gentlemen.
- What's happened to Lister?

He resigned, Arnold, and as a consequence,
our mission goal has now changed.

There's no longer a requirement
to return Crewman Lister to Earth,

nor is it fiscally prudent
to return or crew this ship.

Mindful of the Space Pollution Act,

JMC policy dictates
the ship should dispose of itself

by flying straight into the nearest sun.

What?!

What about us?

Never mind us, what about me?

No need for alarm, Arnold,
you can come too.

In fact, I'm instructed to offer you
a new position as supervising officer

on our voyage
into the heart of the solar core.

Mission name: Operation Sizzle.

Or if you prefer, Arnold, your hologramic
unit can be shut down now.

So, I have a choice.

Get turned off now, have a non-existence
for the rest of eternity,

or live a little longer
and then get cooked to death?

It's a real head-scratcher, sir,
no question.

So how long have we got before we reach
the point of no return, the melting point?

You mean the point where suncream
and floppy hats are no defence

because our noses have started melting
onto our shoes, which are now

floating down the corridor in a river
made up of our own leg gravy?

Well, we'll go as fast as we can,
Supervising Officer,

as I know you're keen
to complete the mission.

How long, you mad goth bastard?

Well, I can have the ship fly
beyond its safety limits,

disengage the carbon
carbon-reinforced heat shields,

so it shouldn't take more than...90 years.

90 years?!

Hey, that's not too bad.

Did I say years? Sorry.

I meant minutes.

90 minutes.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC)

(FRANTIC TYPING)

Sir! I'm so pleased you're OK!

Not for long.

In 90 minutes, we're gonna be hotter
than me in a pair of silk Speedos!

What are we going to do?
We're-we're finished!

Oh, Kryten, we can do this.

Alls we've gotta do is get to
the machine room and pull the plug

on this loony.
Now, if you can unscrew that wall panel,

- we'll short-cut through the vents.
- Right away, sir.

- Two minutes, we'll be through.
- PREE: No, you won't.

Your attempts to defeat me are futile.

Oh, yeah?
How are you planning on stopping us?

Well, actually, sir,
she controls all the ship's functions...

- (HISSING)
- ...SO in many ways,

her powers are limitless! (LAUGHS)

Gas is coming in through the vents!

RIMMER: Might that be laughing gas?

- (ALL LAUGH)
- We're in!

(MUSIC CONTINUES)

It's sealed! There's no way through!

- We're screwed!
- We're defenceless!

Hey, Kryten, I can't think straight
with this toothache.

It's that one there, mate. Go on, pull it.

- RIMMER: Here comes the wall!
- Here comes another one!

(DRAMATIC MUSIC INTENSIFIES)

Hey, Kryten!
That crazy question you asked.

I've got the answer!

What question, 55?

"Do Siamese sisters
get whiskers in stasis?"

Nah, they don't!

DENTIBOT: Quick medical,
so we can set up his bios for stasis.

Stasis!

Stasis! Stasis! Course!

What was I thinking? I've got it! Pree!

All JMC vessels undertake
to return crew to Earth,

including their dependents, right?

You resigned, former crewman.
There's no way back.

I didn't resign. My dad did.
We share the same name.

Then you'd be on file, and you're not.

Did you check the medibay waiting list?
Isn't there a file open?

David Lister, medical pending?

- Yes.
- Isn't it true,

once I complete my medical and I have

all my bios for stasis,
I become registered crew?

- Yes.
- And as registered crew,

- so I have the power to shut you down?
- Yes.

And as your primary objective is to save
registered crew members time and energy,

shouldn't you just uninstall yourself now?

Your logic is faultless.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC STOPS SUDDENLY)

Rock and roll.

Dave Lister saves the day.

Being brave in a hostile universe.

(IMITATES GUITAR)

Mr David Lister Junior, sir,
welcome aboard!

Morning, Krytes.

Complimentary champagne
and games package courtesy of the JMC.

I'm not interested, Kryts.

I've just signed up
for the Robotics programme.

Gonna pass that sucker.

So, alcohol, computer games -
it's hasta la vista, baby!

Go on, get 'em out of there. Get...

Zero-gee Total Football?

I didn't know this was even out!

Kryten, grab yourself a remote
and say goodbye to the weekend.

Your Mechbutt's going down, boy.

Oh, and Kryten...
that champagne's not gonna open itself.

# 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 on my toes

# Fun, fun, fun

# In the sun, sun, sun

# Fun, fun, fun

# In the sun, sun, sun. #

(EXPLOSION)