Original subtitles

(RED DWARF THEME)

Remember Argyle Somerfield, the old movie star?

Eighty-three according to this. And he's just had a baby with his nurse.

"'It was love at first sight', she cooed. ‘I've always liked older men."

God, if she ever ran into Tutankhamen, he wouldn't stand a chance.

She'd have his bandages off before you can say "silicon implants”.

Some pictures of them here with the newborn.

There's Argyle and there's the baby.

Oh, no, no, no, there's Argyle and there's the baby.

I was thrown for a minute by the bib and the bonnet.

Thought that was the baby at first.

An 83-year-old dad.

How's that gonna work?

I bet you he's not gonna get up in the middle of the night

to help give the baby its feed.

Probably pretend to be dead.

"Darling, can you give the baby his bottle tonight?"

It's not going to work, is it?

The only advantage, as far as I can see,

is the wife can change both their nappies at the same time.

You still not talking to me?

It's unbelievably childish, you know.

Got a good mind to fill your shoes with runny porridge again.

That'd teach you a lesson about maturity.

All right, I'll tell you what,

I bet I can make you say something in the next minute.

Twenty big ones.

Shake on it.

All right, well, if I'm on, say nothing.

I'm on. Okay.

I'm gonna say something, all right,

and you're gonna totally lose it. Are you ready? You ready?

All right. Several years ago,

when money was not abundant and I needed - I mean medically needed, a pint...

I took some money from your purse.

(IMITATING CREAKING)

(IMITATING AN EXPLOSION)

Oh, God, it was horrible going in there.

The wallet that time forgot.

Not that there was any point. The barman on B deck wouldn't serve me.

Said doubloons weren't legal tender anymore.

Said you should have handed them in after the Spanish Armada.

Thought that'd get you going.

You hate digs about your stinginess.

Usually makes you so agitated

that you've got to go and make a cup of tea with a brand-new tea bag.

Well, still, plenty of time to go.

Remember Yvonne McGruder?

You really liked her, didn't you? Eh?

I used to go out with her, you know. Before you did.

You didn't know that, did you?

Broke up in the end. Really hurt me.

Still got the scars today.

They never heal, carpet burns, do they?

Both cheeks, man.

She nearly wore them down to the bone.

- Will you shut up? - What did I tell you?

Twenty big ones.

I've been listening to you whittling on now for what seems like two ice ages.

My mind is so numb and braindead,

I feel like I've just attended a three-day seminar

entitled The Future of Plumbing.

Have you any idea how irritating you've just been?

You're a master. There are things you could teach to tropical skin diseases.

- Well, talk to me, then. - No.

Look, I'm sorry, okay?

How many times do you want me to say it? I am sorry.

- No, you're not. - It was an accident.

An accident? You poured a whole tube of it over me,

you disgusting, rotting, fetid piece of congealed monkey vomit.

At last you're talking to me.

I knew we'd make it up.

Eighty-three.

CAT: Seems even bigger than I remember.

(BUZZING)

Uh...guys, we've got a problem.

Hey, guys, look at me body.

There's an invitation that will not cause a stampede.

No. It's back to normal.

There's no time for that now, sir.

We're flying down a corridor on Red Dwarf

and Starbug appears to be expanding.

It's not Starbug that's expanding, it's Red Dwarfthat's shrinking.

It must be something to do with the nanobots' molecular process.

Just like my body.

We're being sucked into a vent. Can't fight it.

- Air vent walls closing in. - We must take action.

Be bold, positive, decisive.

I suggest we move from blue alert to red alert, sir.

Forget red! Let's go all the way up to brown alert!

But there's no such thing as brown alert, sir.

You won't be saying that in a minute.

And don't say I didn't alert you.

All right, dudes.

Anyone fancy a game of charades using Just your nose or is this a bad time?

Holly, we're about to get crushed to death.

So that's a no, then, is it?

Once the nanos rebuilt the ship,

I thought things were going to get back to normal.

We don't know where we are, what to do and haven't a clue what's happening.

Things are back to normal.

You don't even fancy a bit of a quick one?

Science fiction film, name of the ship, one word.

(HUMMING)

The Nostrilomo.

Spent a week thinking that one up. Good, isn't it?

Computing time to impact. Calculations coming through. Here they come.

How long have we got?

About the time it takes to read a stop sign, sir.

That's okay, then. I don't always get through those in one sitting.

What are our chances of getting out of here?

About the same odds as discovering Mr Lister

saddle stitching the hem of a pair of linen maternity slacks.

I must admit, it's been a while since I did that.

Can't you get this crate to go faster?

It's gonna be like getting crushed to death in a gigantic trouser press.

Freshly laundered and wrinkle-free.

I always prayed I'd go out like that.

There's maybe a way through this if we take a detour.

Past Epsilon 14 and take a right at the hydro unit.

We'll save about two minutes.

What do you say, sir? I don't understand a woman who's hurtling towards 30

and still has a teddy bear called Boo Boo,

but when it comes to navigation, there's none finer.

What's your view, Hol?

Straight up your nose when you lean in like that.

What do you think we should do?

Well, in the most recent survey of people's favourite ways of dying,

being squashed to death came in at a disappointing 94.

Mainly because it doesn't involve sex or booze.

And mourners tend to snigger when they see your remains in the coffin.

So what's your point?

My point is, don't get squashed to death.

‘Cause If you do, you're missing out big time

on all the really fun ways of dying.

Epsilon 14.

There's some kind of heartbeat up ahead and it's beating at an incredible rate.

You mean there's a heart out there with no body? No wonder it's beating so fast.

Hey.

(SQUEAKS)

(HEART BEATING)

I hope we don't get stopped by the cops.

They don't like it when you're rat-arsed.

According to the data, we've lost all the engines!

Hey, didn't I read somewhere that can seriously affect your ability to fly?

Now we've lost the midsection and the kitchen.

I'm sorry, everyone, but we may have to have sandwiches for lunch.

There is a pulse. But maybe I should give her the kiss of life

just to be on the safe side.

Isn't the kiss of life for drowning, sir?

"Isn't the kiss of life for drowning, sir?" You little nitpicker.

- Is everyone okay? - Well, I'm not. I'm really frustrated.

The Cat, sir, come quickly. He looks terrible.

Your eyes need a major service, bud.

Let's get him out of here before the whole thing goes up.

- Dave? - Selby. Chen.

Is it really you?

Is it really us? Hang on, I'll check. Yeah, I think it's us.

Guys, this is brilliant. I can't believe it.

- You know these people, sir? - Know them?

When they've been drunk and unconscious,

I've taken their clothes off and painted parts of them green.

Of course I know them. This is the Red Dwarf crew, Krytie.

How?

The nanos must have resurrected them along with the ship.

This is Chen.

He works in the kitchen. He's always drunk.

And this is Selby. And he's always drunk, too.

- Where's Petersen? - Couldn't make it. He's drunk.

The crew are all alive, sir. This is great news.

Wonderful, marvellous, incredible news.

All that extra ironing. Bliss.

Mr Thornton, read them their rights.

David Lister, you are formally charged with stealing and crashing a Starbug.

You're also charged with having no pilot's licence

and smuggling two stowaways on board

along with Navigation Officer Kristine Kochanski.

Anything you say now or do not say now

may be used in a Board of Enquiry against you.

Do you require any form of aid?

Yeah, lemonade and a really large scotch.

Left, right! Left, right! Left, right! Left, right!

Try and relax. You're gonna burst a blood vessel.

Shut up, you maggot!

- You understand? Do you understand? - Yes.

- Yes, what? - Yes, Mr Shouty.

Yes, sir!

Left, right. Left, right. Left, right. Halt!

Left arm.

At ease.

All right, dude?

They don't know about you yet, Hol. It might be an idea to keep it that way.

I need some info.

If the Board of Enquiry find us guilty tomorrow, what happens then?

Well, they'll probably have a pot of tea,

bit of a chat and go home, I suppose.

What happens to us, you divvy? Not them.

Well, if you lose, you'll probably get a couple of years in the brig.

- What brig? - The brig on Floor 13.

- There isn't a Floor 13. - Yeah, there is. It was classified.

- A need-to-know only basis. - So who knew?

Well, all the officers and anyone who's ever seen The Twilight Zone.

So what's it like, this brig?

Well, if I was an estate agent,

I'd probably describe it as an old-style penal establishment,

abundant wildlife, 200 bedrooms, all with en suite buckets.

Smegging hell.

They call it the Tank. There was an inmate population of 400,

all being transported to Adelphi 12.

Presumably they've all been resurrected, too.

What are they like? No, don't tell me. I already know.

They're all deranged, hairy no-lobes

with breath like old nappies, arms like toilet walls, scum of the universe.

They're all like that, aren't they?

Well, the nice ones are, yeah.

Hang on, I've got one of them on file somewhere.

Here we go.

I'm Nigel. I'm nice.

See what I mean? They're not all headbangers.

Nige is lovely,

though he does tend to get a bit narky

If you go too close to him with a magnet.

Thanks very much, Hol. You're really cheering me up.

The brig.

Two years.

Two years without curry and lager.

Two years without sex.

You hope.

Rimmer.

Word's out they're going to throw the book at you, Listy.

Followed by the bookcase and then the library, brick by brick.

God, it's you like you used to be.

What got into you? You can't fly a Starbug, my laddo.

You're a technician. A zero. A nobody.

Look, this is gonna sound nuts,

but the whole crew died, including you.

And you've all been resurrected by these microscopic little robots.

- I died? - Yeah.

- All the crew died? - Yeah.

And you're going to spend the next two years

in the brig with a load of Neanderthals with badly spelt tattoos?

So where are we? Is this my heaven?

Look, a radiation leak wiped everybody out. I survived 'cause I was in stasis.

Then these nanos arrived, rebuilt the ship,

and resurrected the crew.

- So where are they? - Don't know. Gone. Scarpered.

Maybe I should take the fifth?

The fifth? If I were you, I'd take the sixth, seventh and eighth, too.

I gotta track these nanos to corroborate our story.

Otherwise who's going to believe our defence?

Only meths drinkers and the Corn Circle Society.

- Look, I need your help, man. - Me?

Who else is going to help me? I'm confined to quarters.

The minute I walk through that door,

I get enough wattage up me jacksie to light up the whole of Bootle.

Well, considering what the future has in store for your jacksie,

a couple of zillion volts is going to be easy street.

Why have the nanobots done this, put us in this situation?

In the past they've only ever done things

which have ultimately benefited us.

We should take comfort in that.

- Like what? - Like when they first stole Red Dwarf

and took us on a merry goose chase halfway around the galaxy.

They led us to Legion, where Mr Rimmer acquired a hardlight body.

Benefit.

And then they took us back to Red Dwarf and rebooted Holly.

Benefit.

And after that, they led you to the temporal rip where you met me.

(TOILET FLUSHING)

What's this rumour that we're three million light years into deep space

and Red Dwarf's changed shape?

That is classified information, Karen.

Who the hell told you that?

- The coffee machine on G deck. - That damn coffee machine.

I'm going to bust his ass down to tampon dispenser.

Is it true?

Until we get Holly back up, we can't verify it.

Starbug took out one of his CPU banks in the crash

and we're having trouble rebooting.

The coffee machine said the ship's now identical to its original design plans,

before the JMC made all its cutbacks.

We now have a quark-level matter anti-matter generator,

ship-wide bio-organic computer networking

and a karaoke bar on C deck.

But how?

And how did we wind up in deep space?

Nobody knows.

We don't believe this one's human. Take a look at this.

- Has he got the measles? - Those are his nipples, Frank.

Six nipples? I wonder what the female of the species is like?

Pretty easy to please in bed.

Especially if you play the piano.

- His internal organs are different, too. - In what way?

Well, his kidney, liver, appendix are all colour coordinated.

And even weirder, his stomach wall appears to be decorated.

This guy's intestines look better than my quarters.

His heartbeat's weird, too.

Instead of a normal heartbeat, his sounds...

cooler.

You think I'm going to have the dorky human heartbeat?

(IMITATING HEARTBEAT)

Where's the tune in that?

Let me hear it.

(RHYTHMICAL HEARTBEAT)

Also, his pulse is a different rhythm.

(SAMBA STYLE RHYTHM)

Oh, that's good. Can you slam that down on tape for me?

Rimmer, I'm begging you, man, help me escape.

I've got to track down these nanobots.

I'm not risking my career in standing for you, Listy. I'm going places!

Up the ziggurat, lickety-split.

Up the ziggurat, lickety-split, precisely.

- I'm going to pass the engineering exam. - And become an officer.

And become an officer, yes. An officer.

A guy of honour, decency and breeding.

You saying I haven't got those qualities?

Generally, people with breeding,

when they're bored and want my bridge club chums to wrap up and go home,

people with breeding, generally, do not play Popeye the Sailor Man

with a kazoo inserted between their buttocks.

I remember that.

I used to do that sort of thing, didn't I?

And while we're on the subject, when someone's had a tad too much claret

and has fallen asleep naked on their bunk,

people of honour generally don't take a Polaroid of your snoozing todger,

draw a moustache, mouth and ears on it...

and then pin it up on the bulletin board under "missing persons".

They don't write underneath, "Have you seen this man?

"Believed to be a French movie star."

As if your todger with a couple of eyes drawn on it

would look like a French movie star.

Way too good-looking.

Don't expect help from me, Lister.

- But that was years ago. - It was last week!

Yeah, last week for you ‘cause you've just been resurrected.

Years ago for me. And anyway, I was whirlitzered then.

I'd even finished off the advocaat.

I even downed that smeg-awful pink stuff at the back of the drinks cabinet.

That was my Windolene.

I must have left it there when I was cleaning the glass.

It tasted all right with that chartreuse green liquery thing in it.

You drank my Swarfega, too?

You're unbelievable.

Look, I've changed, I'm different now. More mature, more debonair.

I don't even stir me tea with a spanner anymore.

You'd hardly recognise me.

- Have you stopped playing the guitar? - No.

But I've stopped accompanying myself on me armpit.

What I'm trying to say is I don't have

to take my frustrations out on you anymore.

- How's that? - Well, I've been away.

What is it? Five, six years, not counting stasis.

I've done stuff. Stuff that would make your hair straight.

I've come through it.

- I can help you. - Do what?

Get promoted.

Preposterous!

- How? - Information.

I've seen the crew's confidential reports.

I've seen their strengths and weaknesses.

How?

Well, before you were resurrected, I had the run of the whole of the ship.

I've seen the crew's files, medical records,

sessions with the therapist, the works.

Knowledge is power. Who said that?

I don't know.

Nor do I.

The point I'm trying to make is, I can make you look like a genius.

You can get promoted in the field, man. You won't have to take exams.

Do that astro-engineering smeg.

Just help me escape.

I have my principles, Lister.

You think you can buy me with promises of power and glory?

You really think.... Okay, I'll do it.

But you'll have to prove it to me first.

You're on.

Get me promoted.

- You've got it. - Okay, deal.

You'll find the confidential files in Starbug's cockpit.

There's a senile version of Holly loaded into this watch.

He'll lead you to it.

Hello, I'm Dr Lucas McClaren, I am the ship's chief psychiatric counsellor

and I thought it was about time we got together and had a really good natter.

- My name is Kryten, sir. - Lovely.

We are doing well, aren't we?

Now, you're a robot, aren't you?

I was the last time I looked, sir, yes.

And can you tell me when you were created? Can you remember?

2340, sir.

Very good, 2340.

Now, that's in the future, isn't it?

Yes, sir, I was created after you died.

Lovely. Lovely.

So, I died, and you were created.

And how long would you say I've been dead, altogether?

You're not dead anymore, sir.

Aren't I?

No, no, you're alive again now, sir. Can't you tell?

Right, so I was alive, died,

and then started living again.

- You've been most fortunate, sir! - I have, haven't I?

Golly. Your chair is screwed down, isn't it, Kryten?

Yes, sir.

Just checking. Excellent, lovely, lovely.

So...

how did I suddenly spring back to life again?

You were rebuilt, sir,

by these itty-bitty, teeny-weeny, teenty little robots.

Teenty little robots?

And they make this little noise.

(IMITATING HIGH-PITCHED BEEPING)

Yes, just double-check that chair for me, would you, Kryten?

- It is still screwed down, isn't it? - Yes, sir.

With really long, long screws that go deep, deep into the ground?

Yes, sir.

Now, tell me, what kind of robot do you think you are?

What were you programmed to do?

Well, I'm a sanitation droid, sir.

I'm programmed to do sanitation-type things, washing, cleaning, ironing.

You also drive spaceships, though, don't you?

Pretend to be the science officer and sit in that lovely, swivelly chair

with all those lovely, pretty buttons and press them all?

Yes, I do that, too, sir. That's sort of thanks to Mr Lister.

- Mr Lister? - Yes.

He helped me break my programming, sir.

Over the years, I have managed to develop

some serious character faults of which I'm extremely proud.

I'm even able to lie to a modest standard.

For example, you have a very fine haircut.

You see how good I've got?

Also, I've completely mastered pomposity,

even though I say so myself.

I've also developed several rudimentary emotions, including fear,

"Oh, my God! It's going to kill us!"

Sadness, "Oh, my God, it's killed us."

Happiness, "Oh, no, it hasn't!"

Surprise, "Ooh, I've turned into a frog!"

And just lately, I'm proud to say I've got the hang of anger

with rudimentary mindless violence.

That's a newie.

I was going to launch it at this year's Emotion Show.

At the moment, I'm working on ambivalence,

which means feeling two opposite,

irreconcilable emotions about the same thing.

As you can see, I haven't quite got the hang of that one yet.

I look like a dog with a caramel toffee.

What is your relationship with Lister?

I love Mr Lister, sir. He taught me everything.

Without him, I'd probably be normal.

I'm going to make a recommendation now, Kryten, which I think will help you.

But just before I do, just double-check that chair for me, would you?

Yes!

Luck virus, sexual magnetism?

Holly, what's this?

Dave got them years ago from this scientist called Lanstrom.

They're positive viruses. One gives you sexual magnetism

and the other gives you luck.

Well, till your natural body defences combat the virus.

Sexual magnetism.

You gonna use it?

Is Paris a kind of plaster? You bet I am!

A tiny swigette to see if it works.

Well, bottoms up.

Then bottoms down, and hopefully bottoms up again.

ALL: Hi.

Ladies.

- Hi, Arnold. - Hi, Arnold.

The world loves a bastard.

One day in this lousy, stinking penal colony and I'm cracking up.

Everyone's so deranged and brutal. It's frightening.

This afternoon, I was so depressed I went to see the social worker.

- Was he any help? - Not really. He beat me up.

He said I was a whining nancy boy with girly white legs.

Then pummelled me repeatedly with his book,

Showing Compassion To Inmates.

I thought social workers were supposed to be nice.

In the end I was so shell-shocked,

I went to see the priest and explained everything.

What did he say?

He said I was a whining baby who was missing his mum.

Then he beat me up, too.

You can still see the crucifix marks on the back of my head.

It's ‘cause we're in G tower. All the staff are mad here.

One of the guys was saying, though, as a reward for good behaviour,

they move you to the luxury block on D wing. Everything's really nice there.

They even shampoo the rats.

Groom the tails and everything.

I must look it up in my Michelin Guide to Penal Hellholes.

I'm sure it probably gets the full five slop-out buckets.

They've got everything. TVs, music centres.

They've even got a trouser press.

Since when were you interested in a trouser press?

You care less about your appearance than a member of the Dutch royal family.

No, I was thinking that if we got moved to a cell with a trouser press,

we could make cheese toasties.

What's this?

"Floor 13 Information Pack. If privacy is required when using toilet,

"please wear blindfold."

What's the book?

Gideon's Bible.

He follows me everywhere that bloke.

I was staying in a hotel once, he left his Bible behind there as well.

Then two years later, another hotel, dozy git left it behind again.

Everything is ruined.

My career's over. I've no goal, no hope, no life.

Yeah, but how come that's started to get you down now?

Maybe you hadn't noticed, but we're gonna spend

the next two years in the brig.

Two years with the scum of the universe, hardened criminals, deranged droids.

People so unbalanced and debauched they couldn't even get elected

as President of the United States.

We've got to escape.

No. There's security cameras everywhere.

You know that mad geezer with the one eye and the funny tick?

He said it was impossible.

Well, he's bound to say that. He was the warden.

If only I'd hired a smarter lawyer

instead of the braindead, pompous, stupid-haired git I ended up with.

You defended yourself.

Yes. And I don't need reminding of that, thank you very much.

Two years in the tank.

Two years.

How did I get into this mess?

I think the blindfold's supposed to be for me.

My captain, sir.

Rimmer, is this salute ever going to end?

Do I have time to go for a cup of coffee? Maybe go on vacation?

Nearly finished, sir.

It's my very special, extra-long salute

I reserve for the especially important, sir.

You wanted to see me?

I'm concerned over some of the safety procedures on board, sir.

There's a potentially lethal scenario concerning drive plates, sir.

Obviously, anyone who misrepaired one of these plates

would have to have a brain the size of a leprechaun's testicle.

Nevertheless, sir, like German tourists, the stupid are everywhere.

I propose the following new safety procedures, sir.

Did you really think of this?

Permission to look smug, sir.

Permission granted.

Good work, Rimmer. Great work.

Oh, before I go, sir. Happy wedding anniversary, sir.

I'm sure you must be missing her terribly.

A blueberry muffin...

like Martha used to make.

Thanks, Rimmer, I....

Dismissed.

Sir, just one more thing.

I know the medical guys think we've run out of this stuff

but I discovered a couple of unopened medi-crates in storage, sir.

If this is useful to you in any way, it's yours, no questions asked.

"Anus Soothe Pile Cream.

"The easy-to-apply cream that comes with its own special glove."

One size fits all.

I could tell from your walk.

Rimmer...

could you post this for me?

Why, certainly, sir.

Oh, it's addressed to me, sir.

I'm giving a supper for some of the guys that I've marked out for greater things.

And you want me to be the wine waiter, sir?

This report is first-rate. Now, I want you to come to supper.

See you on Friday.

Incidentally, it's black tie.

Thai, Chinese, I'll eat anything, sir.

Though I would prefer it if it wasn't black.

Any chance of having mine medium-rare, sir?

Just go! Wear what the hell you want.

Get undressed.

Fill this up behind the screen.

Kryten, hi.

What are you doing here?

What's wrong?

I've been classified as a woman.

A woman? Why?

Well, because I haven't got a...

penis.

It's a Space Corps directive to prevent gender ambiguity in jail.

What's the saying? If you've got nothing to swing, you can't be with Bing.

Well, what happened? Did you lose it?

I was never issued with one, ma'am.

Well, why would I need one? Unless somehow I lost both arms

there was an emergency situation to write my name in the snow.

So, you mean, you've never had a steak pie, peas and chips, then?

I think the phrase is "meat and two veg”, ma'am.

No, the only mechanoids that were ever issued with genitals

were the ones created to work on Italian starships.

It was felt they could acclimatise themselves better

if they could mimic their Italian crewmates

and stand around cupping themselves all day.

Hey, now you're a woman, it's gonna mean some big changes in the way you behave.

I'm not going to be a woman for long, ma'am. Just overnight.

They want my permission to repair my corrupted files tomorrow afternoon.

Restore my factory settings!

But your corrupted files are what make you you.

I've been diagnosed as being quirky and unstable.

Spin my nipple nuts and send me to Alaska! Quirky?

How could they reach a verdict like that?

And as for unstable, it makes me so....

Darn it, I still haven't got the hang of that emotion, have I?

- What was it supposed to be? - Ambivalence.

Didn't come out right, though, did it?

I looked like Mr Lister when he's forced to eat fruit.

What are you going to do?

I have to go along with them, ma'am. I can't say no, they are my superiors.

- You've got to say no. - I can't.

They're better than me. I'm not strong enough.

Right, here's a tip. If you get scared tomorrow,

just imagine what they look like on the loo.

- Can you see them? - No, I....

Oh!

Yes, I can.

- Do they still seem better than you? - No, ma'am.

- Do they still seem superior? - No, ma'am.

That's what you've got to do tomorrow. Just recreate that picture.

- It works for everyone. - Yes!

- Who are you looking at now? - You, ma'am.

Why did the nanos land us in this mess? That's what I want to know.

They must have contracted some form of virus.

- Hence all the mistakes. - Mistakes?

Yeah, lots of weird background errors. Like the shape of the ship's different.

Even my quarters aren't the same.

I've even got clean socks in me sock drawer. It's just so unrealistic.

Spooky.

So what happens now?

The Board of Enquiry will say if we're fit to stand trial.

In a trial, all you got to do is sit there.

How fit do you have to be?

I don't want to sound wet or anything.

Look out, moisture alert.

And just because I've got a cuddly dinosaur nightie-holder

and matching pencil case

doesn't mean to say I'm not hard, okay? Because I am hard.

In fact, I could have joined the Space Marines

if the rules had been different about taking moisturiser on manoeuvres.

So, although I'm hard, and that, I think, is pretty well established,

erm, despite all that hardness...

the thought of going to jail...

is like.... Oh, God!

- It's gonna be okay. - No, it's not going to be okay.

It's going to be polyester sheets and carbolic soap

and lousy school-dinners-type cooking.

And I bet you anything they only have German wine.

In prison, ma'am, I don't think they have any wine at all.

No wine at all?

Isn't that against the Geneva Convention?

Oh, my God, I'm not gonna cope.

I'm gonna be like that Scots bloke in that prisoner of war film

who just goes all screwy and just bolts for the perimeter fence

and starts climbing it and then....

Rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat!

He started tap dancing?

Boy, he really must have gone screwy.

They shot him.

All because he did a tap dance?

That's inhuman.

Be upstanding.

Just relax, Rimmer's gonna help us escape.

This enquiry's a piece of cake, we're just going through the motions.

All right, sit down.

Let's get this enquiry under way.

You have refused defence assistance, is that right?

Okay, this is what we do.

I've watched a lot of TV shows and we all huddle together like this

and whisper for a while before we answer.

It looks like we know what we're doing.

We intend to defend ourselves.

You see how good that looked?

We've evaluated all the psychological reports

and it's the finding of this enquiry that you all are fit to stand trial.

Except maybe him but we're going with it anyway.

Are you familiar with the mind scan?

Keep huddling, keep huddling. This is looking so damn good, it's untrue.

Just one thing.

Can anyone remember the question we're supposed to be huddling?

I believe it was, "Are you familiar with the mind scan?" sir.

Nice one, bud.

One last thing, and only the best lawyers know this trick.

The next time he talks, I'll make a note,

slide it across to you guys and you look really, really impressed.

Morale-wise, it slays them.

We are familiar with the mind scan, sir.

You are aware that it pictorially enhances

the cognitive process,

making your innermost thoughts available

for recording and viewing to a board of enquiry?

Yes, sir.

You understand that it will involve the administration of psychotropic drugs?

That is, drugs which affect your mental state,

making this process possible.

If you accept, say "aye".

ALL: Aye.

Please sign the consent forms

and seal them into the envelopes provided.

We reconvene at 10:00 a.m. tomorrow.

I was hoping to get a manicure and a leg wax tomorrow.

How about Thursday?

Tomorrow.

Okay. But if there's a round where we have to give evidence in swimsuits,

I'm out of here.

The plan's working, Listy.

Operation Get Rimmer Officerhood, Power and Eminence,

or GROPE for short,

is bang on course.

So that information I gave you on the drive plates worked, then? Yes.

The captain's face.

He couldn't have been happier if I'd given him two girls

wrestling in a giant vat of baked beans

then removed the girls and handed him a spoon.

He's never been so pleased.

And get this, he's invited me to supper with the movers and the shakers.

The movers and the shakers?

You're going to supper with some removal men

and a group of people suffering from Parkinson's disease?

At last I'll be able to exorcise my father's disapproval.

Those terrible, sneery looks he used to give me

as he stood on the touchline watching me captain the school's skipping team.

He was never proud of me.

What other father would claim to have an alibi for his sperm

on the night of conception?

Who cares now? Not me, Listy.

I'm on my way, up the ziggurat, lickety-split.

Well, don't forget your part of the deal.

The override code for this so I can leg it.

It's too soon. I'm not an officer yet.

The trial begins tomorrow, man.

Without the nanobots, our defence has got more holes than my socks.

But once you've legged it, where does that leave me?

I'm not helping you escape and losing all my insider knowledge.

I'm not an officer yet.

Whoa! We shook hands on a deal.

Yeah, but, Lister, you know me.

My handshake's less reliable than a plumber's estimate.

No escape-o, no more info.

Listy, it's not going to help you.

I've got the confidential files.

Plus, I went through Starbug's salvage and I found these.

The luck virus. Sexual magnetism.

Positive viruses. Holly told me everything.

Take some of this, it gives you luck.

And this gives you sexual magnetism.

I've already tried some.

Right now, Yvonne McGruder

is sleeping off the first 23 pages of the Kama Sutra.

So, you reneged on the deal, then? Breaking your promise,

being a total scum-sucking, two-faced, weaselly weasel.

Ah, my entry in Who's Who.

You left some of your luck behind, man. I touched the tube.

Sheer luck.

Yes.

You may, if you prefer, stand with the others tomorrow

and face the charges against you.

However, I advise that you have your corrupted files repaired,

after which you may go free.

What is your decision?

Oh, it's no good.

Okay, let's all stay calm. No need to be alarmed.

After all, Kryten is merely holding us hostage,

which is lovely, isn't it, everyone?

- Lovely. - We don't want any trouble.

We'll just do what you say.

Come on, then. Come with me.

KRYTEN: Come along, inside, inside. That's it.

Go on, all of you, quick, quick, quick.

Here we go, that's it.

Now, I want you to take down your pants and sit on a toilet.

Oh, my God, he's mad!

Then what are you going to do to us?

I'm going to look at you.

He's totally mad!

Just do what he says.

Lovely.

(KRYTEN LAUGHING)

Now, I want you to ask me the question again.

What question?

Do I want to have my corrupted files repaired?

Do you want to have your corrupted files repaired?

No. I did it.

No. No, I don't.

The answer to the question is no.

No doubt about it, I do not want to have my corrupted files repaired.

The answer is no.

And you just put in any old code you felt like

and the luck virus made you pick the right one? That's brilliant.

Yeah, just rubbed me finger over the top of the tube.

That's brilliant. That's just brilliant.

Ah, it's a pity you didn't do the same with the sexual magnetism.

Is that a new shirt?

No, I've had it a while.

- Oh, it's really nice. - Thanks.

It's really, really nice. Really suits you.

Thanks.

Brings out the brownness in your eyes.

Oh, God, Dave! I'm so sorry!

Oh. I don't know what happened there.

I think I do. I had some sexual magnetism virus on this hand.

But the luck virus cured it for me. Thanks, pal!

I don't know what got into me.

Well, nothing, sadly.

Hello, I'm the Data Doctor.

If you would like me to examine your hard disc, press "examine".

Your mechanoid appears to have developed the following rogue emotions....

If you wish to eradicate these emotions from his database, press "fix".

All bad line blocks and corrupted personality discs have now been fixed.

Please reboot your mechanoid.

His personality has now been restored to its factory settings.

My name is Kryten. I am programmed to serve. Can I be of service?

- Bring me a coffee, please, Kryten. - Certainly, ma'am.

- Then you may scrub the floor. - Yes, ma‘am.

Are you happy, Kryten?

I have no understanding of human emotions, ma'am.

I am programmed to serve.

Excellent.

I'm going to be Colin Charisma at the captain's supper with this stuff.

ALL: Hi!

- Hi. - Hi.

And if we approach light speed,

I think we have to be aware we could come across something

I believe we'll experience called future echoes.

Episodes and pockets of futurey things.

- From the future. - Fascinating.

What a fascinating man you are, Mr Rimmer.

I think we've greatly underestimated you over the years, Arnold.

Now, let me find out where that coffee is.

Oh, no, Captain, please. Allow me.

Perhaps you could help me, Mr Rimmer?

Why, certainly. And perhaps we can talk about my theory on backwards universes.

And, of course, in a backwards universe, many things start to make more sense.

Oh, my God, you are sexy. So very, very sexy.

Bravo, bud. What now?

Well, we find Kryten, get to the landing bay,

grab a ship and get the hell out of town.

He's on this floor.

Here he is.

Krytie, come on.

Are you addressing me, sir? I don't believe we've had the pleasure.

What have they done to you, Kryten?

You sound like Noel Coward's elocution teacher.

Well, if you'll forgive me, sir, I have my duties to perform. Good day.

Oh, they fixed all his corrupted files. He mustn't have been able to say no.

Someone's coming.

- We've got to get a better disguise. - We already got a disguise.

What's the point of a disguise if you wear it under your normal outfit?

A grey boiler suit? You think I'm going to wear this on the outside?

Look, we're not leaving without him.

I don't care what they've done to him, he's coming with us.

He's part of the posse.

Hey, I got a great idea for a new disguise.

What?

The Dibbley family!

Yes!

Ah!

There you are.

Any news on the coffee?

Drat. We forgot.

I'll find out right away, sir.

I'll give you a hand, Mr Rimmer.

Sorry to interrupt, sir.

But we're searching this floor for the escaped prisoners.

Sorry, we haven't seen them. Just me, my wife here and my brother.

- Hello. - Hi.

Hi.

I don't recollect seeing you guys before.

That's because we don't go out much looking like this.

What do you guys do?

Computer programmers.

Well, if you see anything suspicious, call security, okay?

Oh, you bet.

Begging your pardon, sirs, I just need to get a mop.

How peculiar, my mop heads are missing.

Oh, don't I know you, sir?

Wayne. Wayne something.

Wayne Wibbley. Where do I know you from?

No, no, sir, you're mistaken.

You're mixing me up with some other big-teeth dork.

No, let him speak. Where do you know him from?

Are you out of your mind?

Shh. Where do you know him from? Think.

I feel I'm about to discover something wonderful,

but when I discover it, it will put someone in great danger.

I feel an emotion. I feel two emotions.

Two different emotions. I feel.... I feel....

Ambivalence?

I can feel my files corrupting. They're corrupting. I....

Oh, yes, that's good.

I'm back and I'm bad. Obviously, within certain sensible preset parameters.

HOLLY: (ON SPEAKER) Attention, attention.

Reported prisoner sighting on C deck. Reported prisoner sighting on C deck.

Nice one, Hol.

What's wrong with you?

Well, do you get the impression this is too easy?

Like, everything's going for us?

Like they almost want us to escape.

Hey. I was just thinking aloud.

No, no, the luck virus. It's helping us.

Put your kit on.

Here we are. Remembered the coffee at last.

What about the mints?

I'll go.

Would you like to help me, Mr Rimmer?

It's just, I've got so much coffee,

I don't think I can manage to get any mints until tomorrow.

Well, the psychotropic testing should be well underway by now.

Those results sure are gonna be interesting.

Psychotropic what?

The Lister case is so unusual

that I decided to invoke my right to use psychotropic evidence.

The accused are drugged, wired to a mainframe,

then the computer feeds in various hypothetical scenarios

and their reactions are laid down on tape.

Right now, they believe they're escaping,

but we just want to observe what they do.

So that means that if anyone happens to mention any...

special agreements that they've entered into then....

Could you excuse me? I think I've left the iron on.

- Hi. - Hello.

What is wrong with me? I've got the sexual appetite of a mountain lion.

No, worse, a first-year nursing student.

It's just being wanted, it's such an aphrodisiac.

Got to get some control back.

Hi.

- Hi. - Hi.

Never realised you were so damn popular with the ladies.

Maybe you can share your secret sometime?

Yes, sir.

(LITTLE GREEN BAG PLAYING)

(MECHANICAL BEEPING)

Guys, it's Bob and Madge.

Go on, shoo, guys. Shoo. Go on.

We're trying to escape, but you'll never get past security so go on! Go on!

MAN: (ON SPEAKER) 7 minus 18 seconds and counting. Engines start.

WOMAN: (ON SPEAKER) This is Ground Control to Midget 3.

You don't appear to have flight clearance.

Please state your name and clearance code.

- Ground Control, this is.... - Major Tom.

Yeah, Major Tom.

Major Tom, what is your clearance code and pilot number?

I'm sorry, I left all my details in my other pants.

I'm sorry, I didn't catch that.

Wow!

Without take-off clearance, I can't permit you to fly.

I can handle this thing okay. I'm good.

I'm better than good. I'm smooth with a capital smoo.

Well, that's as may be, but I need a little proof

that you can fly that thing.

Fly? I can make this thing dance.

(CRASHING)

Wow.

- You free Saturday? - I am now.

Holy-shmoly! I got a date in three days' time.

I better start getting ready.

You're going nowhere, man. We are out of here.

Thornton?

No one's allowed in there, Rimmer. Beat it.

Angus Thornton, age 36, middle name Lionel.

Inside leg measurement, 29. Neck size, 16. Circumcised.

- How do you know all this? - Jazz fan.

Good credit rating.

Once admitted to hospital totally naked and attached to...

(WHISPERING) the suction end of a vacuum cleaner.

That's a vicious, slanderous, filthy,

stinking, slanderous lie that you just made up.

Who told you?

Want all the crew to know?

Take a cigarette break. Five minutes.

Okay, I'm going, okay?

I'm lighting up already. I'm going.

Now all we've got to do is get a bearing on those damn nanos

and we're cruising down Freedom Boulevard.

- Getting something now, sir. - Good.

We didn't need that confidential files scam I cooked up with Rimmer after all.

All that stuff I gave him on the captain.

Double-dealing, two-faced rat.

Find all references

to the agreement between Lister and Rimmer and remove.

All references removed.

What was that?

- Something weird just happened. - Yeah, I felt it, too.

There it was again.

- And again. - Oh, my.

What is it?

I don't believe I'm here.

I have that feeling all the time.

I have it. I believe we're in some kind of computer-manipulated,

psychotropically-induced mind state.

You took the words right out of my mouth.

You mean, this is our trial? Our escape is our trial?

The envelopes.

When we signed the consent forms,

there must have been some kind of drug on the gluey bit we licked.

So you mean nothing's been real since then? Blue Midget?

The ground controller? None of that was real?

You mean after all this, I still haven't got a date?

Damn!

Another year when I have to send a valentine card to my hand.

No, this is good. This is good. It proves we're innocent.

Everything we've said and done, escaping,

trying to track down the nanos,

it corroborates our story.

But you are guilty, guys. Who are you fooling?

I don't know why I said that.

We're being framed.

Wait a minute, what's happening? I just said "We're being framed,"

and suddenly...

It just happened again.

- Everything we say is being.... - Bananas.

If I say who I think's responsible for this, it'll get cut, too.

So I'm not going to, but it's him.

I know it's him, you can bet on it. And if I ever catch up with him,

I'm gonna cut off both his b... blunt knife.

So how do we stop him?

If we're plugged into AR software, there must be a trapdoor

built into the program somewhere to allow escape.

You mean to help you get out if the program freezes?

Precisely. There'll be a cryptic clue around somewhere.

Something like a trapdoor or exit.

I got it!

There's a button here with "E-11-T" on it.

And?

11 is XI in Roman numerals.

E-XI-T. Exit.

He got that?

I think it proves without a shadow of a doubt this is not reality.

Press it.

Now where are we?

Well, somehow, we've wound up in the screensaver.

We need to locate a power source so we can switch the AR machine off.

Power source? AR?

There has to be a clue round here somewhere.

Maybe it's in this ice hole.

There's some food in here.

So?

Including a bottle of ketchup.

So?

Power ketchup. Get it?

What's to get?

Power sauce!

Pity he's only smart when he's made out of Plasticine.

Press it.

You back-stabbing, weaselly smegger!

You were trying to frame us.

Listy. Just the man.

Now, I know at first glance this may look bad.

God, he's gorgeous.

Oh, hold her back. Please, hold her. Please, no more. No more.

Those nostrils, they're driving me crazy. I've simply got to have him.

Hold her back, Kryten. Help me!

Mr Cat, sir, put the lift on hold.

I want his babies.

The luck virus, you've still got it. Take some.

It'll cure the virus and restore you both to normal.

Oh, God, that's so embarrassing.

- What now, Hol? - No time to lose.

You should head for the nearest one of these.

- You mean a moon? - Exactly.

He's right. We can regroup there and continue our search for the nanos.

What about me?

Well, I suggest we persuade you to come with us, sir,

or failing that, we bludgeon you unconscious.

Him come with us? Are you out of your mind?

That's so dumb I should've said it.

Well, Mr Rimmer has had access to the confidential files, sir.

He knows all the security codes.

Without him, our chances of escape

are about as remote as meeting an interesting hairdresser called Kylie.

Why would I want to take off with you lot?

What have you got to offer?

Well, I'm very good at laundry, sir.

I do a damn fine moon impression.

I'm so gorgeous, there's a six-month waiting list for birds

to suddenly appear every time I am near.

And you know what they say, sir,

if you've got three good friends, you're a rich man.

Only poor people say that.

Forget it, he's not gonna change his mind.

He's right, time is of the essence.

The crew will know we're out of AR now

and are probably sending someone to investigate.

So, what's it to be?

Look, if I leave, I'm always gonna be a failure. The shame of it.

Every time I have a boiled egg,

knowing I don't even outrank the toastie soldiers.

I want to be an officer, a man of honour.

Officers aren't men of honour, they're headcases.

Those induction pranks they play when you qualify.

I've dreamt of that proud day for years now,

as I wake up after the celebration party

and find my pubes are orange and I'm handcuffed to a goat.

And most hilarious of all,

discovering someone's superglued me to the rear of one of those rabbits

that whizzes round greyhound tracks.

Ah, those mad japes they play on you.

I can't miss all that.

Look, that's not gonna happen for you now, man.

Just like it didn't happen for the other Rimmer.

We're giving you a second chance at life

and an opportunity for you to screw it up

in a new and original way.

You'll get your own seat in the cockpit

and you'll be in control of at least five buttons.

Krytie, don't be pathetic.

He's hardly going to be impressed at the prospect

of being in charge of a few buttons.

Five, you say?

No more vending machine maintenance.

No more getting heckled by drinks dispensers.

That's five whole buttons?

A new start, a new life?

You'll wake up in the morning, you'll want to leap out of bed.

Well, in your case, Mr Lister, sir,

that's because your sheets are covered in pointy poppadum shards.

Tell me more about these buttons. Are some illuminated?

What do you say, man? The old Rimmer was a vital member of the team.

He performed essential functions we've never replaced.

What did he do?

Don't know really.

He, erm.... He was, erm....

He was, erm....

Ah! Head of Safety.

Head of Safety? That's a hell of a title.

But what did he actually do?

He sought out danger.

He sought out peril.

And then he'd advise us the best way to run away from it.

Head of Safety, five buttons...

I'min.

He's in. Let's celebrate!

I'll crack open a bottle of cyanide.

This is ground control.

You don't appear to have flight clearance.

You're the ground controller?

Please state your name and clearance code.

Reality sucks.

Your name's Reality Sucks?

One second, Mr Sucks.

Just checking my clearance list.

Look, just do another smegging dance and we'll get the hell out of here.

Dance? With her, I'd have trouble walking.

Powering up.

Come back, Mr Sucks. Come back!

There's nothing on the scanners for a 1,000-mile radius.

We're in the clear, guys.

Yes. Oh, yes.

- I don't believe we are, ma'am. - What's up?

According to the supplies inventory, we're frighteningly low on....

And everyone was so happy. I can barely say it out loud.

What are we frighteningly low on? Oxygen?

Worse. Fabric softener.

Suggest we chart a course to the nearest derelict,

the SS Einstein, before everyone's woollens get all bibbly-bobbly.

Einstein?

Wasn't he the dude who discovered America?

Einstein discovered the theory of relativity.

Where did he discover it? Was it fossilised and stuff?

The theory of relativity is....

- What is the theory of relativity? - Yeah, what is it, Hol?

Bit busy at the moment, Dave.

Just tell us what it is in sort of simple layman's terms.

It's a theory.

Yeah, but what is it?

Oh, you want it more complicated than that, do you?

- What does it mean? - It's the theory of relativity.

You know, it's the theory you only tell your relatives.

E=MC2.

But what does it mean, though?

E is energy.

Energy equals MC2.

That's M times C timesed by another C.

What's MC, though?

What?

- What is it? MC. - MC?

Well, MC is obviously Master of Ceremonies.

Energy equals master of ceremonies squared.

He was very overrated, Einstein.

That's why he left quantum physics and went into the look-alike business.

It's so sad. Holly's supposed to have an IQ of 6,000.

Now I doubt he could even spell "IQ".

If I'm so stupid, if I'm computer senile,

explain this, then.

Explain what?

You can't, can you?

Explain what?

It's no good stalling, trying to buy time.

If I'm so stupid, explain why I was able to recreate

a new set of nanobots

and get them to resurrect the crew.

- What? - What?

I thought you'd be pleased.

But why?

My job is to keep Dave sane.

True, I'm not that good at it, but I do my best.

That's why I create these little diversions to keep him occupied.

But, Hol, we could have wound up doing two years in the brig.

You still could.

I've just worked it out.

We're still in AR.

- What? - What?

In computer jargon, my plans have all gone tits up.

I was outthought and outmanoeuvred.

- Who by? - By a superior intellect.

You mean the hand dryer in the men's toilets has outsmarted you again?

No. By the other version of me.

The one on Red Dwarf. This is still our trial.

Our trial? Why didn't you say?

If I'd have known, I'd have worn a tie.

Well, for me, Lister's nanobot story is corroborated.

They were trying to track them down.

Their actions in the psychotropically- induced scenario bear that out.

I agree, Frank.

I also believe we died and were indeed resurrected.

Again, borne out by their actions.

So, original charges, all innocent.

But, it's equally apparent that they used classified information

from the crew's confidential files to their own ends.

I suspected Rimmer had access the moment he walked into my office

and began acting incredibly smart and knowledgeable.

What a giveaway.

That's why I got him to lick one of the psychotropic envelopes

when I invited him to dinner.

So, abusing classified information,

that's a fresh charge.

And on that, they're all guilty.

That's a statutory sentence.

I know. Two years in the brig.

So instead of the original charge

and a possible sentence of two years in the brig,

they've been found guilty on another charge

and got an entirely different two years in the brig.

That's gonna be a great comfort to them.

I'll bring them round and break the news.

RIMMER: This is reality?

- But how can we be sure? - Why do we care?

Nothing makes any sense no matter where we are.

Look, everything was real before we licked the envelopes, right?

Then we conked out and got carted off to AR.

Before we licked anything.... Before we licked anything....

I lent you my Holly watch.

So, if this is reality, I should still be wearing it.

Oh, yeah. This is reality all right. I'd recognise it anywhere.

Also, sir, shouldn't you have the viruses?

Again, you found them on Starbug before we licked the envelopes.

The luck virus.

Maybe we can get out of this mess.

I'll have that.

The lab boys are gonna want to run tests on it.

Where's the other one?

I'm afraid I lost it, sir.

Goddamnit, Rimmer! I wanted that!

I mean, the lab boys wanted it, to test it, too. Damn.

- This is all your fault. - My fault?

You betrayed us over that confidential file scam.

Stole the sexual magnetism virus.

You lied to us.

And generally behaved like a self-serving,

scum-sucking, ruthless little ratbag.

And that's bad?

HOLLISTER: (ON SPEAKER) It is the finding of this enquiry

that you have been found guilty

of contravening Act 21 of the Space Federation.

Before sentencing, you will have medicals

so you can be assigned appropriate prison status.

I've buggered this up a bit haven't I?

Welcome to the tank.

# 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 #