Red Dwarf, Series II

Rimmer:
[while Lister is sorting through the mail] You'll send away for every bit of tat, just so you'll have some mail to open.

Lister:
Me... Me... Me...

Rimmer:
"Please rush me my portable walrus polishing kit! Four super brushes for cleaning even the trickiest of sea-bound mammals! Yes, I am over 18, although my IQ isn't."

Lister:
Smeg! Outland Revenue!

Rimmer:
[sarcastically] Oh, oh, oh, oh! Outland Revenue!

Lister:
8500!

Rimmer:
8500? That's a lot of tax, isn't it, Listy? How on Titan are you going to pay for that?

Lister:
I'm not. It's yours.

Rimmer:
What? This is wrong! This is dead wrong!

Lister:
Relax, it doesn't matter now. Not gonna catch you now, are they?

Rimmer:
What? Just because we're three million years into deep space and the human species is extinct? That means nothing to these people. They'll find us.