Red Dwarf, Series VIII

Cat:
Forget Red - let's go all the way up to Brown Alert!

Kryten:
There's no such thing as a Brown Alert, sir.

Cat:
You won't be saying that in a minute! And don't say I didn't alert you!

[after Starbug lodges itself in the back end of a super enlarged rat on the nanobot rebuilt Red Dwarf]

Holly:
Hope we don't get stopped by the cops, they don't like it when you're rat arsed.

Lister:
Hey guys, look at me body.

Cat:
Now there is an invitation that will NOT cause a stampede.

Captain Hollister:
Rimmer, is this salute ever going to end? Do I have time to go for a cup of coffee? Maybe go on vacation?

Rimmer:
Nearly finished, sir. This is my very special extra long salute I reserve for the especially important, sir.

Rimmer:
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.

Lister:
Was he any help?

Rimmer:
Not really; he beat me up. He said I was a whining nancy-boy with girlie white legs, then pummelled me repeatedly with his book, Showing Compassion to Inmates.

Lister:
I thought social workers were supposed to be nice?

Rimmer:
In the end I was so shell-shocked I went to see the priest and explained everything.

Lister:
What did he say?

Rimmer:
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 in the back of my head.

Captain Hollister:
I also suspect that someone, possibly Lister, has given Rimmer access to the crew's confidential files, and he's using this information to blackmail his way up the chain of command. It's sickening. It's unforgivable. But it's a technique that can work. I should know; I used the same method myself to become captain. If the crew discover I'm really just Dennis the Doughnut Boy, I'm finished.

Lister:
Have you figured a way to get us out of here, Hol?

Holly:
I have actually, Dave. I've devoted all my run-time to looking for a loop-hole in the prison regs. I think I've come up with something that means you can serve your entire two-year sentence in just fourteen weeks.

Lister:
Ah, Brilliant! What have I got to do?

Holly:
Become a dog.

Lister [about their two-year prison sentence]:
It's only two years; what, with good behaviour, it'll probably only be eighteen months. Remember when you were first born, then you were eighteen months? The time just flashed past!

Rimmer:
It flashed past because you had two breasts big as your head at your beck and call day and night! Give me that now and I wouldn't be whinging.

[Lister has signed up for the Canaries]

Lister:
What have I signed up for?

Rimmer:
In the 19th century, when miners went down a pit: they'd lower a canary down first, in a little cage. [...] And if the atmosphere was noxious, as it frequently was, guess what the canary did?

Lister:
Complained to the Foreman?

Rimmer:
It died, Listy! The canary's job was to go into the most dangerous, unpleasant and most smeggy situations and see if it could stay alive. Then they'd know if it was safe to send in the important people. [...] How come you've never heard of the canaries? They've got recruitment posters all over the men's bogs! How come you've not seen them?

Lister:
When I'm in the men's toilets in prison, Rimmer, I tend not to look around; d'yknow what I'm saying? It's like playing Golf; I concentrate on my grip, keep my eye on the ball and try not to veer off to the side!

Rimmer:
The Canaries! You know what they say it's supposed to stand for? Convict Army, Nearly All Retarded Inbred Evil Sheepshaggers! They haven't got an X chromasone to share between them!

Lister:
Smeg. It gets worse as well.

Rimmer:
(Laughing) Worse! Go on!

Lister:
I've signed you up too.

Captain Hollster:
[Briefing the Canaries] We've located a ship, the SS Silverberg, buried at the bottom of an ocean moon. A remote probe has come back with no signs of a crew; no bodily remains, no skeletons, zip. we want you guys to go on board and find out why. [...] It's inconcievable a ship like this could be sent out without a crew. So whatever devoured the crew, bones and all, might still be there so... be careful.

Cassandra:
All the Canaries will be dead within one hour, except for Rimmer -

Rimmer:
YES! [punches the air]

Cassandra:
- who will be dead in twenty minutes.

Lister:
If the future is all worked out, horoscopes all that stuff . . . It means we're not responsible for any thing we do. It means we're just actors sayings lines in a script written by somebody else. I don't want to believe that. I want to believe I'm in charge of me own life. Me own destiny.

[Rimmer is reading a letter to Lister from Peterson]]

Rimmer:
My God that is tragic.

Lister:
Why, what's happened to him? Has he died?

Rimmer:
Died?? You'd think he'd write and tell you?

Lister:
No, your right man, I'm not thinking straight. He'd be to busy organising his funeral wouldn't he.

Rimmer:
he's found your guitar in Starbug's wreckage and is sending it over.

Lister:
Brilliant!

[Rimmer is looking stressed]

Lister:
You OK?

Rimmer:
Of cause I'm not OK. I hate your guitar. If I wanted to share a cell with an irritating lump of wood, I'd have moved in with an Australian soap star

[Lister and Rimmer plan to leave after seeing Krytie TV's "Ladies Shower Night," fearing it could damage their appeal]

Rimmer:
I want no part of this.

Lister:
Me neither.

Rimmer:
We've gotta go.

Lister:
Right now.

Rimmer:
Not a minute to lose.

Lister:
I'm dust.

Rimmer:
Me too. After two. One, two, go!

[They still sit there, moving their heads sideways, while watching the feature.]

Kryten:
First, we sabotage the date.

Lister:
What, "we"? You mean you're gonna help me?

Kryten:
Step on board the "love express," sir! Now, we get to his quarters through the air vents; I've paid off the guards. Then you make him look like the nerdiest slob in the entire universe. This is what you leave in his quarters. A half-eaten onion sandwich. That's always a passion-killer.

Lister:
Is it? I like those.

Kryten:
Then there's this: "Morris Dancer Monthly." What a total dweebo nerdmeister he'll look with those!

Rimmer:
They're mine!

Kryten:
And then there's these: tragically unfashionable underpants.

Rimmer:
[exasperated] They're mine!

Kryten:
And finally: Christian rock music. If that doesn't scare her off, nothing will.

Rimmer:
Have you been going through my things?

Lister:
I was trying to get a sick note, but the doc thought I was faking and didn't accept it was possible to get athlete's hand.

Hollister:
Seven hours. Do you know how long that is? I couldn't remove my shorts until after midnight. When I wanted a leak I had to do a handstand on the toilet seat. I stopped the lift doors from closing, I wasn't even catching a lift!

Lister:
Hol: need some advice, mate. We've been cornered by a T-Rex that was formerly a sparrow, and the only thing that can turn it back into Woody Woodpecker is in its stomach. What's your take on the situation?

Holly:
What do you want - the long or the short version?

Lister:
Oh. Long.

Holly:
You're finished.

Cat:
What's the short version?

Holly:
Bye.

Both Birdman and Pete have been restored to their former selves

Rimmer:
Now, destroy the time wand.

Lister:
This machine's priceless!

Rimmer:
Destroy it.

[Lister destroys the time wand. Moments later, a giant dinosaur egg is discovered behind a corner.]

Lister:
Wh-what do we do now??

Rimmer:
Now...rebuild...the time wand! It's absolutely priceless!

Death:
Arnold Judas Rimmer, your life is over. Come with me. You will travel to the River Styx, where you will place a coin and -

Rimmer:
Not today, matey. [knees Death in the groin] Remember, only the good die young.

Death:
[gasping] That's never happened to me before.

Rimmer:
Why don't you smegging well smeg off, you annoying little smeggy smegging smegger?

Rimmer:
Can you tell me what this is?

Mirror Cat:
(smells it) It's an alkali.

Rimmer:
Oh yes, what's it called?

Mirror Cat:
Cesiumfrancolithicmyxialobidiumrixidixidoxidexidroxhide. You look surprised?

Rimmer:
I never thought I'd ever hear you say that. Can you write it down for me?

Mirror Cat:
Certainly. (To Mirror Kochanski) Could I have an extremely long piece of paper, my dear?

Mr Ackerman:
You're drunk.

Lister:
Drunk shir? No, sir.

Rimmer:
No. No. No.

Mr Ackerman:
Who fancies a kebab?

Rimmer and Lister together :
Oh yeah!

Lister:
Smeg! He's tricked us. (Rimmer collapses) Must've been the cherry trifle we had for lunch sir. Told him not to go back for seconds. (Snores)

Mr Ackerman:
Call the medi bay. we need two stomach pumps. Super suck.

[Lister and Rimmer plan to leave after seeing Krytie TV's "Ladies Shower Night," fearing it could damage their appeal]

Rimmer:
I want no part of this.

Lister:
Me neither.

Rimmer:
We've gotta go.

Lister:
Right now.

Rimmer:
Not a minute to lose.

Lister:
I'm dust.

Rimmer:
Me too. After two. One, two, go!

[They still sit there, moving their heads sideways, while watching the feature.]

Kryten:
And now, I'm going to stare at a cracked floor tile. [He does so. The other inmates yell in displeasure.]

Kill Crazy:
What's he doing that for?!

Kryten:
Remember: Shower Night is a Pay-Per-View event. Start filling those buckets!

[Men in "Krytie TV" t-shirts approach the inmates with buckets. The inmates put cans of beer, cigarettes and other items in the buckets.]

Rimmer:
I don't believe this! He's running it like a business! There's even a bloke there selling ice creams!

Lister:
Never mind him. Now. We got to go RIGHT NOW.

Rimmer:
I'm going, I'm going.

Kryten:
And now, I'm going to get close and personal with one of the showers, Miss Kristine Kochanski!

[Rimmer and Lister stop as soon as they hear this and slowly turn round.]

Rimmer:
Fancy a choc-ice?

[They sit down. Lister pushes another inmate's head out the way.]

Kochanski:
Kryten, do you realise what this means?

Kryten:
No, ma'am.

Kochanski:
It means you're a real man.

Kryten:
It does? Why?

Kochanski:
Because now, like all men, you have absolutely no control over your penis.