Original subtitles

- Where is the girl? - Soon, she'll be facing ze firing squad.

- Good. And the erstwhile protector? - Festering in ze cargo hold.

Excellent.

Ah, Ace Rimmer. Might one enquire how you escaped your bonds?

Just dislocated both shoulders and slipped between the ropes.

It'll take major orthopaedic surgery to put them back,

but, rest assured, that won't stop me from rescuing the Princess Bonjella.

You're insane, Rimmer. You're outmanned and outgunned.

- You expect me to concede? - No, Mr Rimmer, I expect you to die!

Take him into ze hold, explain all our plans to him,

then... throw him out of the plane.

Out!

(ROARS)

Mr Rimmer, sorry I can't stick around for a chat, but I've got to blow.

Do me a favour and feed Snappy?

What I would give for a gun...

...or a bottle of Listerine!

Goodbye, Ace Rimmer! You were a most worthy adversary!

(STIRRING HEROIC MUSIC)

(GROWLS)

Aaah! Aaah!

See you later, alligator!

(SHOUTS ORDER IN GERMAN)

Achtung!

Zielen!

- (GUNSHOTS) - F... Argh!

This is my best top, damn it!

(SHOUTS IN GERMAN)

(SHOUTS IN GERMAN)

(ENGINE STARTS)

Princess Bonjella, Ace Rimmer.

There'll be time for explanations later... and hopefully some sex.

What a guy!

- Hold on, Princess! - Oh, please, Ace, call me Beryl.

(WHOOSH)

Bet he's a sour Kraut.

("RED DWARF" THEME)

I cannot believe you're going to do this.

I'm a man, Kryten, with a man's urges and desires.

Well, what about an ice-cold shower, sir?

I've used up this year's water supply with ice-cold showers, Kryten.

I was looking at the log this morning - 112 gallons!

If I carry on, my libido's gonna cause a drought.

- You think this is the answer? - I know how it looks.

Going into an AR simulation with a book of cheats and seducing the queen of Camelot?

Words fail me. It's the most unchivalrous thing I've ever heard.

- Are you my faithful manservant or what? - I'm ashamed, sir!

I haven't been this embarrassed since I was loosening my screws,

and my entire groinal box dropped into Mr Rimmer's soup.

(FANFARE)

Is there any man in our great land that dare challenge the king's best knight?

(CHEERING)

- I do, sir! - And you are, sir?

Lister of Smeg.

Good knight, do you accept this challenge from... Lister of Smeg?

- I do, my king. - What do you claim if victory be yours?

I claim nothing, sire. Serving the king is reward enough.

(CHEERING)

And you... Lister of Smeg,

what prize do you claim if you should defeat my best knight?

I claim, my lord, a night and a day in the bed of your good lady.

(BOOING)

A night and a day in the bed of my good lady?

(FRENCH ACCENT) We accept ze challenge.

Do we?

We do.

My lady, I think we should discuss this matter in private.

Do you not have faith in your good knight to cut this dog down?

I do... sort of.

Then we accept.

Good knight, bring me this knave's manhood on a silver platter...

Hey, steady!

Then disembowel him and feed his innards to the crows!

(CHEERING)

This is worse than playing away at Leeds.

(FANFARE)

When my lace 'ankerchief flutters onto ze ground,

ze challenge shall commence!

I just luuurve that accent. Rrrrarrr!

If I were you, Mr Galahad, I'd concentrate on memorising your cheats book.

(CHEERING)

Cheat one - codeword "steedcheat".

Ha!

Heh-heh-heh!

I claim my prize, my lord.

(JEERING AND BOOING)

You are the scurviest knave in Christendom!

And I swear to you, your scheme to seduce my fair lady will not succeed!

Cheat two - codeword "chastitycheat".

(CLUNK)

Scum. Absolute scum!

If he that calls himself Lister of Smeg has any honour in his soul,

that tent will part this instant, and he will return to me my lady

and beg the king's forgiveness!

- Has anybody got any whipped cream? - Whipped cream?

- Ace, we need to find a dimension close by. - Understood, Computer. Prepare to jump.

- Hey! What's happening? - Power failure, sir!

Electrics are going down.

(ALARM SOUNDS)

The red, green and blue alert signs are all flashing! What does that mean?

Either we're under attack, sir, or we're having a disco.

(ALARM BUZZES)

I'm locked out! Everything's dead!

Steering's down, thrusters are down

and we're heading for that ion storm in sector 12!

- Morning! - What the smeee is going on?

- A power drain's knocked out the generators! - Cause?

An object of such awesome power and charisma, it's flattened all the grids!

I thought it was me, but it's a craft dimension jumping.

- Any ident details? - The last time we came across this,

it was Captain Smug Git himself Ace Rimmer.

Dear God, don't make it be him.

This is the JMC transport ship Starbug opening channels. Identify yourselves.

Well, I said I'd be back for breakfast. How are those kippers doing?

Ace, buddy! How are you doing?

All the better for seeing you, Cat. Is that a new suit?

It's sharper than a page of Oscar Wilde witticisms rolled into a point,

sprinkled with lemon and jabbed into an eye.

Wow, that's sharp! Thanks, buddy!

According to the log, we're down to our last 3,000 vomit bags. It'll never be enough.

- Ace, how you doing? - Never better. Sorry to DJ so close.

Ship's computer made a calculation error. Got a bit of a crush on me.

- What have you been up to, sir? - Nothing special. Saved a few universes,

turned down heaps of marriage proposals and had my highlights done.

What a guy!

Off!

So, what's new with you chaps? Arnie?

I've been pretty damn busy myself, actually.

Let me see - I've begun researching the definitive history of pockets

and I've alphabetised our entire stock of alphabet soup,

grouping each individual letter together with its fellows.

I'll take you to the guest quarters, bud. You can tell me the name of your stylist!

Thanks, Cat, but you should be at the helm.

Incidentally, it's Astro Cuts in the Theta Sector, Dimension 24. Ask for Alphonse.

Oowwww! Yeah!

- Arnie, up for a stroll? - Thanks for the offer,

but I'd rather dangle my genitalia in a pool of piranhas.

I'll take that as a no, then.

- Go with him. - I don't want to.

- But he wants you to. - I want him to choke on his own gittyness.

We don't always get what we want.

He obviously feels some sort of bond.

The only bonding I want to do with him involves superglue and a rabid hamster.

Oh, all right. I'm going.

God!

OK, your sleeping quarters are about 50 yards down there on the right. Bye!

(GROANS)

I think... I may need some help here, Arn.

I knew it! You act the big shot when they're around,

but when no one's watching, you're as butch as an ice-skater.

What's the problem? Travel sickness? The strap on your padded codpiece too tight?

Sorry to sound so damn melodramatic but... I'm afraid I'm... on the way out.

- What? - Heading for the great airfield in the sky,

losing all my breathing privileges.

- You're dying? - You've got it, Arn.

Your brain moves quicker than a nun's first curry.

You're really dying?

Arnie...

I want you to become the next Ace Rimmer.

(LAUGHS)

- I mean it, Arn! - Are fevered rantings a symptom?

The universe needs a chap to look up to, someone to right wrongs,

and just generally be brave, handsome and magnificent.

- And you think I'm your man? - It's your destiny, Arnie.

What? To wind up looking like a reject from a Gay Pride disco?

You're just afraid that you're not good enough.

- You've always wanted to play the hero. - I'm not you.

We established that in your last visit.

I'm not the Ace you met last time.

He caught the business end of a neutron tank in Dimension 165.

- I'm a hard-light hologram just like you. - Ace is dead?

I took over from him, and you must take over from me.

My God! What is that stuff?

Light bee's been hit pretty bad. It's a power leakage.

Electro-magnetic radiation. I haven't got long.

About the time I usually spend making love - 12 hours, maybe less.

After that, I'll be too weak to train you.

What do you say?

It's part of the legend. I'm not the first Ace, not even the second.

There have been... well, more than a couple.

As one Ace dies, he recruits his replacement from a parallel dimension.

We all start off as caterpillars and turn into butterflies.

We're talking about a man who cowers under tables with a colander on his head.

- You can't judge a book by its cover. - You can't confuse Rimmer with a book.

A book's got a spine.

Let me train him, that's all I ask. Persuade him.

(SNIGGERS)

- What is it? What's the joke? - Nothing, nothing. (LAUGHS)

Well, clearly, it's not nothing.

Clearly, you've just heard something terribly amusing, clearly.

It's just that Ace told me about trying to get you to be the next Ace Rimmer.

Yes, sadly, I'm sorting out my shoes or I'd have jumped at it.

It's just you, y'know? The next Ace. The very idea! (LAUGHS)

It's not so ridiculous, Lister! Other versions of me have turned into him.

If I wasn't needed here so badly, I'd take him up on it.

Rimmer, how could you be the next Ace?

I mean, you're a gutless, spineless, gormless, directionless,

neurotic, underachieving, snivelling, cowardly pile of smeg.

No offence...

But get real, man. Most eunuchs have got more balls than you.

Well, that, my fine, madras-guzzling friend, is where you are wrong,

because I've taken Ace up on his offer, and training begins...

right now.

Er, why have you brought me here?

Look around, Arnie. The plateau, the summit.

This is where you must be to become Ace Rimmer.

No, this where you must be to become Maria Von Trapp.

Just concentrate. Feel the wind on your face. Be the wind, Arnie.

Unleash the wild power you know lurks inside you.

Be the cougar running free and unfettered through the mountains.

- Be the what? - Come on, man. You can do it. Concentrate!

See the cougar, Arnie? It's you. Can you see it?

Er... sort of.

Oh, I'll never be Ace. We tried. We failed. I give up!

All your life you've given up.

Well, maybe after more training!

I can't keep up the dog and pony show any longer. It's now or never.

- What's that? - Light bee remote.

If you can fool your crewmates into thinking you're me...

...we'll know you're ready.

- But I'm not ready! - Try it the other way round.

(SUAVE VOICE) The name's Rimmer... This is ridiculous!

Ah, Mr Ace, sir. Everything OK?

What? Er, yes, Kryten... Krytie.

(SUAVE VOICE) Yeah, everything's fine.

- Are you sure, sir? You sound different. - Er... could you be more specific?

67% more weasely.

Errrrrrr...

Ah, sore throat. Uh, sore throat.

Bug going around, a holographic virus. But it affects humans too.

Arnie's got it. I've quarantined him for 24 hours.

I was wondering, sir, we ran out of Bacofoil about six months ago.

I don't suppose you have a spare jacket I might roast a chicken in?

Listen, you stupid, jumped-up little son-of-a...

Ohhh! Sorry, old friend. Afraid not. Catch you later.

Good day, my lord. I come in search of the knave called Lister of Smeg.

Wait a minute, old friend. Let's stay calm.

- Are you one of his household? - Er... in a manner of speaking.

Then prepare to die!

Ha! Yah!

Let's talk about this over tea and muffins.

OK, how about some scones and clotted cream? Dundee cake? Battenburg?

My God! I did it!

(KNIGHT'S VOICE) So far...

(OWN VOICE)... so good.

That's the most heroic thing I've done since setting fire to Stinky Bateman's turn-ups!

Well done, Arnie. You've done us proud. (GASPS)

Smoke me a kipper, I'll be back for...

(SCREECH OF FEEDBACK)

What's happening, bro? What's happened to goalpost head?

No, you don't understand.

It's not me, it's him.

Sir, you're in shock. You sound like Mr Rimmer.

What happened?

Ah.

One of them knights has escaped from the AR machine.

It's killed Rimmer. Isn't that right, Ace?

We should give Rimmer a decent send-off, you know.

- It's the least he deserves. - I just can't believe it.

Neither can I. I was only insulting him this morning.

I haven't felt this wretched since Spare Head 3 told me they'd held a poll

and voted me the big-eared ugly one.

Hey.

- Decided what you're gonna do? - I thought I'd stick around for a bit,

(AS ACE) Get the hang of the character, as it were.

- What's that? - Ace asked me to fit it.

Said it would take his coffin to its final resting place, alongside the other Aces.

He's left some more beacons behind for the Aces that follow you.

I'm getting cold feet, Listy.

I'm not sure I can go through with it, be Ace.

You heard what he said. It's your destiny.

It's my destiny to be a smug, self-satisfied git?

OK, he was a bit full of himself, but you can be different. It's up to you.

He said if you got cold feet we should follow the coffin. You might change your mind.

We are gathered here today to say our final farewells to Mr Rimmer.

On occasion, he was a small-minded, bureaucratic,

incompetent, cowardly little... person,

but he also had his good qualities.

Those WERE his good qualities!

To say something about the finer side of his nature, I'd like to turn to Mr Lister.

Alexander the Great's chief eunuch has finally joined his master.

The man who kept his underpants on coat-hangers

and sewed name labels into his ship-issue condoms has passed on.

Life will never be the same. We have lost the finest,

most dedicated vending machine repairman the Space Corps -

no, the universe - has ever known.

No one ever pressed for a Coke and got oxtail soup and orange juice on his shift.

Well, actually, we all did, but what the smeg - this is his eulogy.

He didn't have many friends, but those that he did have were with him at the end.

Even Rachel, who I suppose in many ways is his widow.

- See you, smeg-head. - Later, bud.

Goodbye, Mr Smeeee-Heeee.

Bye... Ironballs.

Finally, this...

When Rimmer originally died aboard Red Dwarf,

Holly brought him back as a hologram to keep me sane - never an easy task.

He succeeded spectacularly, and for this accomplishment, we award him this.

Kryten, place First Officer Rimmer's decoration into the coffin.

Right away, sir.

Gentlemen... First Officer Rimmer.

First Officer Rimmer.

(BLEEPING)

All those Rimmers...

They all did it. They all became Ace and passed on the flame.

Are you really gonna break the chain?

It's been a blast, fellas.

- Bye, man. - Bye, dude.

Au revoir, Mr Ace, sir.

Stoke me a clipper, I'll be back for Christmas... Whatever.

Just had to say one last goodbye!

- See you, Davey boy. - Yeah, good luck, man.

(STIRRING HEROIC MUSIC)