Red Dwarf, Series III

Lister:
Cat.

Cat:
Mm?

Lister:
Did you ever see the Flintstones?

Cat:
Of course.

Lister:
Do you think Wilma's sexy?

Cat:
Wilma Flintstone?

Lister:
Maybe we've been alone in deep space for too long but every time I see that show, her body drives me crazy. Is it just me?

Cat:
I think in all probability, Wilma Flintstone is the most desirable woman who ever lived.

Lister:
That's good, I thought I was goin' strange.

Cat:
She's incredible!

Lister:
What do you think of Betty?

Cat:
Betty Rubble? Well, I would go with Betty...but I'd be thinkin' of Wilma.

Lister:
This is stupid. Why are we talking about going to bed with Wilma Flintstone?

Cat:
You're right. We're nuts. This is an insane conversation.

Lister:
She'll never leave Fred and we know it.

Cat:
We ain't gonna find 'em. They're gone, buddy. But look on the bright side - they're gone, buddy!

Cat:
Is that what I think it is?

Lister:
What do you think it is?

Cat:
An orange whirly thing in space!

Lister:
It's a time hole. That's where they are. We're going in.

Cat:
Are you crazy We can't go in there!

Lister:
Why not?

Cat:
Orange, with this suit?

Rimmer:
[in response to a woman speaking to him backwards] Flob-a-dob blib blob bleeb!

Lister:
[on not everything being right in the backwards universe] What about St. Francis of Assisi? In this universe, he's the petty-minded little sadist who goes around maiming small animals! Or Santa Claus? What a bastard!

Rimmer:
Eh?

Lister:
He's the big fat git who sneaks down chimneys and steals all the kids' favourite toys!

Club owner:
You are a stupid square-headed bald git, aren't you, eh?! I'm not pointing at you, I'm pointing at you. But I'm not actually addressing you, I'm addressing the one prat in the country who's bothered to get hold of this recording, turn it round and work out the rubbish that I'm saying! What a poor, sad life he's got! Frankly, your act's crap anyway, anybody could have done it! I hate the lot of you, bollocks to you!

Holly:
Abandon ship! Abandon ship! Black hole approaching! This is not a drill. This is a drill! [pneumatic drill sound] Abandon shi- Oh God, now the siren's bust.... Awooga! Awooga! Abandon ship!

Holly:
Well, the thing about a black hole - its main distinguishing feature - is it's black. And the thing about space, the colour of space, your basic space colour, is black. So how are you supposed to see them?

Rimmer:
But five of them? . How can you manage to miss five black holes?

Holly:
It's always the way, innit? You hang around for three million years in deep space and there hasn't been one, then all of a sudden five turn up at once.

Rimmer:
[While Lister is examining his 19th century toy soldiers] Please be careful with those, they're antiques! How's General Dumuoriez going to look with goat vindaloo all over his tunic?

Lister:
It'll make him look more realistic, it'll look like he's got dysentery.

Rimmer:
He told me that in a previous incarnation I was Alexander the Great's chief eunuch.

Lister:
You know what? I believe you.

Rimmer:
To have lived a life alongside one of the greatest commanders of all time! No wonder the military's in my blood!

Lister:
No wonder you're such a good singer!

Rimmer:
Mayday, Mayday! I wonder why they call it "Mayday" ? It's only a bank holiday. Why not "Shrove Tuesday", or "Ascension Sunday" ? Ascension Sunday, Ascension Sunday! 2nd Wednesday after Pentecost, 2nd Wednesday after Pentecost!

Lister:
[on losing his virginity] Michelle Fisher. The eighth hole of Bootle Municipal Golf Course. Par 4, dogleg to the right, in the bunker behind the green.

Rimmer:
You lost your virginity on a golf course? How'd you have the nerve?

Lister:
It wasn't in the middle of the Ryder Cup or anythin'! It was midnight.

Lister:
She took all her clothes off and stood there in front of me, completely naked. I was so excited I nearly dropped me skateboard!

Rimmer:
Skateboard? How old were you?

Lister:
Twelve.

Rimmer:
Twelve?! Twelve years old? Twelve?! (pause) You can't have been a full member of the golf club, then.

Lister:
Of course I wasn't! It was just a place to go!

Rimmer:
You did it on a golf course and you weren't a member?

Lister:
'Course I wasn't!

Rimmer:
I used to play golf! I hope you raked the sand back nicely after you'd finished. Imagine getting your ball stuck in Lister's buttock crevice. You'd need more than a niblick to get that out.

Lister:
Are you saying I've got a big bum?

Rimmer:
Big? It's like two badly parked Volkswagens.

[Rimmer walks in to find Kryten, vacuum attached to his groin, trying to remove 'polymorph' boxershorts from a writhing Lister.]

Rimmer:
Well, i can't say i'm totally shocked. You'd bonk anything, wouldn't you, Lister?!

[the boxershorts turn into a snake]

Lister:
I HATE snakes, they freak me out TOTALLY, snakes. They are my all time second worst fear, guy.

Rimmer:
What's your first?

Lister:
[opens the bin to reveal an enormous salivating alien monster] This.

Lister:
Well, I say let's get out there and twat it!

Kryten:
What about the Space Corps Directive, which states, "It is our primary overriding duty to contact other life-forms, exchange information and, whenever possible, bring them home"?

Rimmer:
What about the Rimmer Directive, which states "Never tangle with anything that's got more teeth than the entire Osmond family"?

Rimmer:
[fuming] Lister and mother. It's a dream come true.

Polymorph:
[disguised as Rimmer's mother] He's so energetic! I honestly thought my false teeth were going to fall out!

Rimmer:
How lovely.

Polymorph:
The positions he bent me into...!

Rimmer:
Terrific. That sounds enchanting. Well done.

Polymorph:
And the things this boy can do with Alphabetti Spaghetti...!

Holly:
Cool it, Arnie!

Rimmer:
ALPHABETTI SPAGHETTI?!?! [the Polymorph drains his anger]

Rimmer:
Erm, I think we're losing sight of the real issue here, which is: what are we gonna call ourselves? Erm, and I think it comes down to a choice between "The League Against Salivating Monsters" or my own personal preference, which is "The Committee for the Liberation and Integration of Terrifying Organisms and their Rehabilitation Into Society." Erm, one drawback with that: the abbreviation is "CLITORIS."

Lister:
It needs killing! If that means I have to sacrifice my life in some stupid pointless way, then all the better!

Rimmer:
Let's get tough. The time for talking is over. Call it extreme if you like, but I propose we hit it hard and hit it fast with a major -- and I mean major -- leaflet campaign, and while it's reeling from that, we'd follow up with a {whist} drive, a car boot sale, some street theatre and possibly even some benefit concerts. OK? Now, if that's not enough, I'm sorry, it's time for the T-shirts: "Mutants Out" ... "Chameleonic Life Forms, No Thanks" ... and if that's not enough, well, I don't know what will be.

Rimmer:
Have you ever been in dissection class held up a frog by its head? You know the way its belly sort of sticks out above its spindly little legs? Well, that's the picture I see when you get down from the bunk in the morning.

[Cat and Lister are playing Scrabble.]

Cat:
Hey hey hey, I've got you now, buddy! J, O, Z, X, Y, Q, K!

Lister:
That's not a word.

Cat:
It's a Cat word.

Lister:
Jozxyqk?

Cat:
That's not how you pronounce it!

Lister:
What does it mean?

Cat:
It's the sound you make when you get your sexual organs trapped in something.

Lister:
Is it in the dictionary?

Cat:
Well it could be, if you're reading in the nude and close the book too quick. Jozxyqk!!!

Rimmer:
When you're younger you can eat what you like, drink what you like, and still climb into your 26" waist trousers and zip them closed. Then you reach that age, 24-25, your muscles give up, they wave a little white flag, and without any warning at all you're suddenly a fat bastard

Kryten:
"Pub." Ah, yes: a meeting place where people attempt to achieve advanced states of mental incompetence by the repeated consumption of fermented vegetable drinks.

Kryten:
[reading Hitler's diary] Things to remember: Stop milk, pay papers, invade Czechoslovakia!

Rimmer:
Kryten! Unpack Rachel and get out the puncture repair kit!

Lister:
[having jumped into a slide showing Hitler at Nuremburg] Ignore him, he's a complete and total nutter, and he's only got one testicle

Rimmer:
What is he doing? He's scuffling with Adolf Hitler. You can't just stick one on the leader of the Third Reich!

Lister:
[comes back out] I nicked his briefcase!

Rimmer:
I used to be in the Samaritans.

Lister:
I know. For one morning.

Rimmer:
I couldn't take any more.

Lister:
I don't blame you. You spoke to five people and they all committed suicide. I wouldn't mind, but one was a wrong number! He only phoned up for the cricket scores!

Rimmer:
Well, it's not my fault everyone chose that day to jump out of buildings! It made the papers, you know. "Lemming Sunday," they called it.

Rimmer:
At least he gets 24 hours notice, that's more than most of us get. Most of us get "Mind that bus!" "What bus?" "Splat!"

Kryten:
Is it me or is that cockroach shuffling too loudly?

Rimmer:
Kryten, it's called a hangover, don't panic...

Lister:
We're on a mining ship, 3 million years into deep space. Can someone please tell me where the smeg I got this traffic cone?!

Cat:
Hey, it's not a good night unless you get a traffic cone! It's the policewoman's helmet and the suspenders I don't understand!

Kryten:
Is this the human value you call...friendship?

Lister:
Don't give me that Star Trek crap, it's too early in the morning.

Kryten:
It's alright sir, he's bluffing he's programed not to harm humans.

Rimmer:
Ah, 'scuse me. Alright miladdo the party's over. I had about as much of this as I'm goona take. It's no good standing there with your chest and silly oiled nipples; doesn't impress me one bit. Now I don't know were you came from, and frankly I don't much care, but if you don't skidaddle pronto, you're going to see a side of me you won't much like.

Lister:
Whats he gonna do, drop his trousers?

Kryten:
He's an android. His brain couldn't handle the concept of there being no silicon heaven.

Lister:
So how come yours can?

Kryten:
Because I knew something he didn't.

Lister:
What?

Kryten:
I knew I was lying. No silicon heaven? Preposterous! Where would all the calculators go?

Hudzen 10:
I'm just doing my job. It's not my fault if I... (pumps shotgun)... LOVE it."

Kryten:
I think there's something wrong with the gearbox. The thing is, I learned to drive in Starbug 2. I'm not used to the controls in Starbug 1.

Rimmer:
They're exactly the same.

Kryten:
Yes. That's the problem.

Rimmer:
Holly? Is it possible? Could this be Earth?

Holly:
Certainly seems that way. Constellations match, gravity exactly one-G.

Rimmer:
What's the time period?

Holly:
Well, it's difficult to pin it down exactly, but according to all the available data, I would estimate it's round about... lunchtime, maybe half-one.

Rimmer:
What period in history, dingleberry-breath? I mean can we expect to see Ghengis Khan and his barbarian buddies sweeping across the hill? Or a herd of flesh-eating dinosaurs feeding off the bones of Doug McClure? What is the year?

Holly:
Well, I'd need some more data before I could give you a precise answer.

Rimmer:
Like?

Holly:
Well, this year's calendar'd be 'andy!

Rimmer:
You know, it could have worked. It really could. Where's the Cat?

Lister:
He won't be long. He's...you know...in the bushes.

Lister:
We've got to stop him!

Rimmer:
So Holly managed to navigate through five black holes?

Holly:
As it 'appens, there weren't any black 'oles.

Rimmer:
But you saw them!

Holly:
They weren't black 'oles.

Rimmer (resigned):
What were they?

Holly:
Grit. Five specs of grit on the scanner scope. Y'see the thing about grit, is it's black. And the thing about the scanner sope...

Rimmer:
Oh shut up!

Rimmer:
Kryten, get the hacksaw and follow me.

Kryten:
Where are we going?

Rimmer:
We're going to do to Lister what Alexander the Great once did to me.

Rimmer:
Anything?

Holly:
Got 'im.

Rimmer:
And?

Holly:
Tension Sheet, inventor of: Dave Lister, aged 17.

Rimmer:
Damn!

Holly:
And he died tragically in a plane crash, aged 98.

Rimmer:
Ninety-eight?!

Holly:
His own fault, apparently. He was making love to his fourteenth wife and he lost control of the plane.

Rimmer:
Have you got any photographs?

Holly:
(Shocked) Not of that, no!

Blaize Falconburger:
Like many people who appear to have everything, Dave's life has been tinged with tragedy. Well, actually it hasn't, but we can only hope. Now onto Dr Bob Porkmann, father of the condom that calls you back.

Rimmer:
Freeze. I've seen enough.

Holly:
What you gonna do?

Rimmer:
I'm going in. I'm going in to rescue him.

Holly (flatly, yeah-right mode):
Rescue him.

Rimmer:
It's my duty. My duty as a complete and utter bastard!

Rimmer:
I'm alive! I can touch, I can feel, I can fondle - I'm alive! Don't you think it's incredible?

Cat:
What was he saying? (Lister shrugs)

Holly:
I never had a mum either.

Rimmer:
Well, you can all have mine. Everyone else did.

Kryten:
Oh my goodness...Oooh...Oh, my head...what happened to me? Damage control report. (He pulls a slip of paper from a slot in his chest and reads it) "Dehydration Level: 45%. Recall of previous evening: 2%. Embarrassment Factor: 91%?! Advised repair schedule: Reboot startup disk, offline for 36 hours and replace head." Boy, what a night!

Kryten:
How do you take the safety catch off on this thing, Mr David? (Holding up bazookoid)

Lister:
The one on the back - at the side.

Kryten:
The blue switch?

Lister:
No, the orange one!

Kryten:
I can't see an orange switch. There's a red switch here...

Lister:
No, don't touch the red switch! That's the dismantler!

Kryten:
Well, to coin a phrase: Whoops!

Hudzen:
Time's up, tin can!

Hudzen:
Don't be shy, boys, you can all die at once!

Hudzen:
See you in Silicon Heaven!

Kryten:
It doesn't exist!

Hudzen:
What doesn't exist?

Kryten:
Silicon Heaven! There's no such place!

Hudzen:
No such place as Silicon Heaven?

Holly:
That's right! The whole place is a big con!

Hudzen:
No such place as Silicon Heaven?

Kryten:
No!

Hudzen:
Then where do all the calculators go?

Kryten:
They just die.

Hudzen:
Calculators just - die? No such pl...need...to...think...