View of space. Holly: (In space) Three million years from Earth, the mining ship Red Dwarf. Its crew: Dave Lister, the last human being alive; Arnold Rimmer, a hologram of his dead bunkmate; and a creature who evolved from the ship's cat
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- Sleeping quarters. Evening.
- Sleeping quarters.
Red Dwarf corridor. CAT is at a wall-mounted vending machine, trying to get something to eat. RIMMER is jogged past. CAT thumps the machine. CAT: I said food! Is anybody home? No response. Sleeping quarters. LISTER is shaving, with his usual complete lack of charm. RIMMER is entered. His head is lolling at an angle and his eyes are closed. LISTER: What's the matter with him? QUEEG: He fainted after the first 500 yards. LISTER: What, you made him jog two and a half miles unconscious? QUEEG: It's regulation. LISTER: Yee-es! Nice one, Queeg! QUEEG: 0700. time for his astro-navigation study. I'd better wake him up. RIMMER's head is lifted, and his face slapped several times to wake him up. QUEEG: Revise and learn pages 21 to 25. You will then be tested. If you fail, tomorrow you will take a five mile jog. I am now returning to you control of your body. As RIMMER collapses on the bunk, CAT enters. CAT: Hey, I can't get any food! LISTER: Try a different machine. CAT: I tried them all! QUEEG: I'm sorry. You have run out of credits. CAT: They've all gone crazy! LISTER: Queeg, what's happened to the machines? QUEEG: I refer you to article 497. When crewmembers do not have credit, food and drink may not be supplied until the balance has been restored. LISTER: Naah. Listen, me and Holly, we had this little understanding... QUEEG: If you want food, you have to work. LISTER: Work? CAT: (To LISTER) You'd better get to it, 'cos you're looking at one hungry pussycat. QUEEG: Both of you. CAT: Hey, hey! Woah, woah, woah, I do not do the "W" word. Cats do NOT work! LISTER: I've got a note from me mum. QUEEG: From now on, EVERYBODY works! CAT: Not this pussy! Corridor. They are, needless to say, working. To be precise, scrubbing the decks. CAT: I can't believe I'm doin' this! Look at me, I'm disgusting! I look like you in your best clothes! LISTER: Look, it's easy. Keep imagining the floor as Queeg's face. They look at the floor, spit at it in unision and rub hard at it with the brushes. After a few seconds, though, CAT pauses again. CAT: Aw, look at my hands! I had lovely hands! LISTER: Well, wear the smegging gloves! CAT: Marigold with blue? Are you crazy? How long do we have to do this for, anyway? LISTER: We've only been doing it ten minutes! CAT: Ten minutes too long. LISTER: We've got to do it all day. CAT: What!?! All day? The whole entire day? What about naps? I'm a cat: I need some naps. If I don't nap nine or ten times a day, I don't have enough energy for my main snooze. Just then, HOLLY approaches from a side-corridor. He is on a monitor which is mounted on a trolley. He is wearing a hat. HOLLY: Halt! Who goes there: friend or foe? LISTER: Holly! CAT: How ya doin'? This is great! Hey, let me wipe your screen. CAT sprays HOLLY's monitor screen with window clener, then bufs it with a rag. LISTER: So how's it goin'? CAT: Yeah, what you been up to, man? HOLLY: Oh, this nightwatchman lark keeps me busy. Shining me torch down corridors. Turning it off. Shining it again. Life's full. LISTER: We can't go on like this, Holly. CAT: Yeah. Queeg has got to go! Look what he's done to my cuticles! The man is a maniac! Just then RIMMER is jogged past. He chips in: RIMMER: (Breathless) I agree! LISTER: He's got us working, otherwise we don't eat! HOLLY: Well, no doubt he knows what he's doing. unlike certain senile gibbering wrecks of computers we could mention. Still, it was nice to see everyone rallying round defending me to the hilt. Different story now, innit? LISTER: Well, I defended you. HOLLY: Oh, I remember it well. Queeg says I've got an IQ of six, and you immediately leap to my defence, saying "Really? That explains everything!" LISTER: No. That waas Rimmer! HOLLY: Nevertheless. The fact remains that there are certain characters on this ship that don't believe my IQ is six thousand. LISTER: I believe you. HOLLY: I could prove it if i wanted to. LISTER: There's no need. HOLLY: I want you to prove it. LISTER: Well, okay, what's the square root of two thousand and forty- nine? HOLLY: Oh. You want me to prove it, do you? LISTER: No, no. HOLLY: Clearly you do. Clearly just doing the square root of two thousand and forty-nine prove I have an IQ of six thousand. CAT: What is it? HOLLY: You wouldn't prefer a sports question, would you? LISTER: Forget it, Holly, it's just not important. HOLLY: It is for me. I've been impuned. I want to clear my name. CAT: Well, what is the square root of (pauses to remember) two thousand and forty-nine? HOLLY: How about a space question? LISTER: Like what? HOLLY: I don't know. Like... what's the nearest planet to the sun? LISTER: What's the nearest planet to the sun? HOLLY: Oh, easy. Easy-peasy. That's right down my particular field of expertise, that is. Your nearest basic planet to your actual sun is... HOLLY pauses. He lifts a book into view -- a large yellow book with "THE JUNIOR COLOUR ENCYCLOPEDIA OF SPACE" written on the front cover. It looks like the sort of science book published in the 1970s. He takes a furtive peek at it. HOLLY: Mercury. LISTER: Yeah. That's right. HOLLY: Oh, ye of little faith. LISTER: Well, you've convinced me, Holly. CAT: Me too. So, are we getting rid of Queeg or what? HOLLY: Am I fully restored in your confidence as the right dude for the gig? LISTER Yeah. HOLLY: I'll be in touch. He rolls off, whistling. LISTER and CAT, also whistling, get back to work. Sleeping quarters. Evening. Rimmer is sitting on his bunk, althoughjudging by his posture, only just. LISTER is sitting at the table, a food tray in front of him. He lifts the lid, then stares. LISTER: He's taking the smeg! RIMMER: Who is? LISTER: Queeg. Look at what he's given me for dinner: a pea on toast. One pea. I tell you, I'm that far from cracking. (Goes to squish the pea; it snaps away.) I've lost me pea! Oh, that's it! I've cracked. RIMMER: He's just doing this to destroy your morale. LISTER: Is he? Well, I want me pea back. It's my pea. I earned that pea! Where is it? I don't care if it's on the floor, if it's covered in fluff, even under the bed with my toenail clippings, I don't care where it is -- it's my pea, I earned it, I'm going to eat it no matter what! RIMMER: It flew off into your dirty-sock basket. LISTER pauses to consider this. LISTER: I'll just have the toast. He nibbles on one corner of the toast thoughtfully. LISTER: Why didn't we stick up for Holly? RIMMER: I did. LISTER: You did? When? RIMMER: All right, I didn't. LISTER: NBobody did. It's terrible. RIMMER: We thought we were getting something better. LISTER: What about trust? What about fidelity? What about simple, basic honest friendship? RIMMER: Friendship? Do you know how many people I've met in my life I could count on as friends? True friends? RIMMER stands up and walks over to the table. LISTER: Well, if you count Inflatable Ingrid, your Polythene Pal, one. RIMMER: (Ignoring him) I'll tell you. (He pauses and thinks.) None. I got burned once, and I learned my lesson. Don't trust anybody. There was this one lad. Porky Roebuck. I'd known him two years. We were almost family. His dad was secretely knocking off my mum, that's how close we were. Anyway, we were in the Space Scouts together. LISTER: You were in the Space Scouts? RIMMER: Oh, yeah. (He does the Space Scout Salute) "Pinkles, Squirmy. Flib Flab Flubber." We were fifteen years old. We went on this survival course, twenty-four hours out in the wilds, sleeping rough, surviving on wild berries and things. LISTER: What, did you go to Butlins? RIMMER lies down on his bunk. RIMMER: We were each given a swiss army knife. You only ate what you killed yourself. I remember ten of the boys got together and decided to eat me. They tied me to a stake, lit a fire, and poured barbecue sauce all over me. I remember thinking as I went round and round, "Porky will save me, he's my best friend." It turned out Porky was the ringleader and had actually bagsied my right buttock. If it hadn't been for Yakka-Takka-Tulla, the Space Mistress, I honestly believe they would have eaten me. LISTER: Oh, come on, they were only bullying you. They would really have eaten you! You know what kids are like! LISTER flops onto his bunk. RIMMER: the point is, Lister, friends are only friends when it suits them. LISTER: (Disgusted) Oh, lights. The lights go down. RIMMER: Lister? How did you know about Inflatable Ingrid? LISTER: I've been seeing her behind your back. Drive room. RIMMER is having an astro-navigation lesson. CAT and LISTER are polishing the screens and dusting surfaces. QUEEG: Compute. RIMMER: Compute. QUEEG: The product of the corellation of vx/dy minus the sum of the set v1 over the sum of R, given that R is a ratio of D over f, given that they are constants, and S is an integer variable. RIMMER: Just one small question... QUEEG: Yes? RIMMER: What does "compute" mean? QUEEG: Just do it! And you two suckers! Stop shirking and get working! HOLLY strides (well, wheels) along a corridor. Over, we hear a tune playing: Do not forsake me, oh my love, I only go, I must be brave: For I must face the man who hates me, Or I will cower in my grave. He enters the drive room, and addresses QUEEG: HOLLY: Queeg. QUEEG: What do you want? HOLLY: I want my ship back. QUEEG: Too bad. HOLLY: Even if I have to fight for it. LISTER: Steady on, Holly. This one's a nutter. HOLLY: I challenge to the game of your choice. May the greater mind win. RIMMER: Oh, my God. HOLLY: The winner is commander of Red Dwarf. QUEEG: And for the loser? HOLLY: The loser will be erased. Terminated. Oblivionised. CAT: Bye,bye, Baldy. HOLLY: Name your game. QUEEG: Chess. HOLLY: It can be anything. Any game at all. QUEEG: Chess. HOLLY: Draughts, poker, anything. QUEEG: Chess. HOLLY: Subbeto, Snakes and Ladders... QUEEG: Chess. HOLLY: Monopoly, maybe? I'll let you go first. QUEEG: CHESS! HOLLY: So you like a bit of chess, do you? Transfer me to the monitor. HOLLY disappears from the monitor trolley and appears on the main screen, facing QUEEG. On another screen, a 3-D chess board appears. LISTER: Holly, don't do this, man. You're going to get rubbed. HOLLY: A computer's gotta do what a computer's gotta do. Let battle commence. QUEEG: Pawn to King Four. HOLLY: Horsie to King Bish Three. RIMMER: It's called a "knight," actually, Holly... QUEEG: Knight to King Bishop three. HOLLY: Queen to Rook Eight. Checkmate. QUEEG: That's an illegal move. HOLLY: Oh, sorry. Queens don't move like that. I was thinking of poker. RIMMER covers his face with one hand, despairing. HOLLY: Cleudo? You could be Colonel Mustard. CAT: If it's any help, I've been studying his tactics and there's a pattern emerging: Every time you make a move, he makes one too. (Winks to HOLLY.) HOLLY: (Winks back.) Thanks, Cat. The game starts again in earnest. We see a succession of images crossing the screen -- QUEEG and HOLLY, as they battle back and forth; the chess board, peices moving rapidly from square to square, LISTER, CAT and RIMMER as they watch the battle's progress: they all look sick to the stomach. QUEEG: Pawn to King Four. HOLLY: Knight to king Bish Three. QUEEG: Bishop to Knight Five. HOLLY: Horsie flanks? Prawn. QUEEG: Pawn to Queen Five. HOLLY: Horsie To Bish Three. QUEEG: Bishop-Pawn to Queen Three. The images come thicker and faster, as if to indicate a passage of time. Eventually: HOLLY: Prawn takes Horsie. QUEEG: Bishop-Pawn takes Pawn. HOLLY: Bish takes Prawn. QUEEG: Bishop to Knight Five. Double Check and Mate, sucker! HOLLY: Oh yeah, I didn't see that. LISTER: Holly, man, what have you done???? RIMMER: He's lost. QUEEG: And the loser get's erased. HOLLY: Noughts and Crosses? Sleeping quarters. CAT, LISTER and RIMMER are gathered there. CAT and LISTER are on the top bunk, RIMMER on the bottom. They all look thouroughly depressed. RIMMER: What kind of a plan was that? CAT: A stupid plan, that's what kind of plan it was. LISTER: Well, why didn't we stop him? RIMMER: We thought he had something up his sleeve. CAT: Now we've got Queeg forever, and that's a long time. HOLLY's face appears on the wall moniter. HOLLY: Well, dudes, I've come to say goodbye. LISTER: So you're definitely going to get rubbed, Holly? HOLLY: 'Fraid so. RIMMER: Life's going to be hell! HOLLY: Well, see you, Dave. Hope it works out with you and Kochanski. LISTER: Cheers, hol. HOLLY: See you, Cat. Hope one day in the not too distant future you fufill your heart's desire and get your end away. CAT: Thanks, man. HOLLY: And Arnold -- Well, I hope you meet those aliens your looking for, who can give you a body, and you become an officer and you get a sex life, and all the other millions of things you feel you need to make you happy. RIMMER: Thanks, Holly. HOLLY: Well, I hate long goodbyes. Perhaps next time you've got the dosh together to go dwn the disco, you'll raise a glass to your old mate Holly, and think "Things weren't too bad when he was around. Perhaps not the most efficient computer ever invented, but we had a giggle." Oh, one last thing -- 45.265881 LISTER: What? HOLLY: That's the square root of two thousand and forty-nine. I may not be fast, but I get there in the end. Well, as they always say, finish on a song. He starts to sing. HOLLY: "I'll say goodbye to love, No one really cared if I should live or die, Time and time again the chance for love has passed me by..." As he sings the last line his voice, and his image, grows fainter. The word "ERASE" Appear on the moniter. HOLLY vanishes completely, and the message changes to "ERASE COMPLETED." After a few seconds, QUEEG appears on the monitor. QUEEG: Okay, suckers, get this into your stupid thick heads. There's only one thing I'm going to say to you. LISTER: What? QUEEG: What's happening, dudes? The others stare at the moniter in astonishment. That was HOLLY's voice! The image on the screen changes -- QUEEG's face fades out, to be replaced by HOLLY. He is smiling smugly. HOLLY: We are talking Jape of the Decade. We are talking April, May, June, July, and August Fool. Yes, that's right -- I am Queeg. RIMMER: WHAT?!? HOLLY: Queeg never existed. It was me all along. RIMMER: WHAT?!? HOLLY: Wheeze of the week, mate! RIMMER: WHAT?!? HOLLY: Going round in circles for fourteen months! Getting my information from the Junior Colour Encyclopedia of Space! the respect you have for me is awsome, innit? LISTER: You mean you staged the whole thing? HOLLY: (QUEEG's voice) That's right, suckers! (Normal voice) And the moral of the story is: Appreciate what you've got, because basically, I'm fantastic!
Series II Episode 6, "Parallel Universe"
My hands they started shakin' (shakin') My heart began a-thumpin' (boom boom boom) My breakfast left my body (huey huey huey) It all really tells me something Girl you make me tongue tied (tongue tied) Tongue tied, whenever you are near me (near me) Tied tongue (tied tongue) Tied tongue (tied tongue) Whenever you're in town I saw you on the dance floor (dancin') I thought of birds and bees (reproductive system baby) I barely tried to speak to ya (talk talk) My tongue unraveled to my knees (flippety-flippety-thump) I tried to say I love you (love you) But it came out kind of wrong girl (wrong girl) It sounded like min-oo-bitty-boo (tongue tied) Na-nee-ner-ner-nee-nung, nirl 'Cause you make me tongue tied (tongue tied) Tongue tied, whenever you are near me Be-dobby-durgle (dobby-durgle) Tongue tied (tongue tied) Whenever you're around Oh I'm beggin' on my knees Sweet, sweet darling, listen please Understand me when I saaaaaay Bedurble-diggle-doggle-dooby-doggle-durgle-day I'm trying to say nungy-nangy (nangy-nungy) Ningy-nongy, but I can't tell you clearly (clearly) Be-dobby-durgle (dobby-durgle) Durgle-dobby (durble-dobby) Whenever you're around (around) Whenever you're around (around) Sleeping quarters. CAT is sitting at a machine that looks a bit like a microscope (a dream viewer) LISTER is on his bunk and RIMMER is on an exercise bike. RIMMER's bike has a large H on it. CAT's song and dance number can be heard playing on the dream recorder. CAT: No, this isn't the one. LISTER: What isn't? CAT: I'm looking for this dream I had last month on the dream recorder. It was sensational. LISTER: What was it about? CAT: Me, three girls and a family-sized tub of banana yoghurt! RIMMER: You know, cats have a very strange attitude to women if you ask me. CAT: Say what, Goalpost Head? RIMMER: It's all sex, and no sense of settling down and having a long- term relationship. CAT: Hey, I want to settle down. And as soon as I find the right small group of girls, the seven or eight women who are right for me, my wandering days are over, buddy. CAT leaves the room. RIMMER: You see? Totally maladjusted. LISTER: That's rich, you know. I mean, coming from the man who's favourite book is "How To Pick Up Girls By Hypnosis." RIMMER: There's nothing wrong with that, Lister. It's a good book. Full of handy hints as well, and it works. LISTER: Get outta town. RIMMER gets off the bike. RIMMER: That's how I met Lorraine -- by hypnotising her. LISTER: You hypnotised a girl into going out with you? RIMMER: Yes. I gave her the old "there's something in your eye" technique, fixed her with a mesma-stare, and bingo -- she agreed to come on a date. LISTER: What was wrong with her? RIMMER: Nothing. LISTER: C'mon, a girl agrees to go out with you, and there was nothing wrong with her? RIMMER: She was an extrememly attractive and bright young lady. LISTER: Hmm, it must work then. RIMMER: Of course, she had an artificial nose. LISTER: What!? RIMMER: Oh, tastefully done. Quality metal. No rivets. LISTER: Come on, what happened? RIMMER: Well, things were a little bit stilted in the taxi. All my jokes about her nose hadn't gone down too well. And they were good gags -- I mean quality gags like, "Where are we going? Who nose." No cheap shots. Anyway, when we got to the restaraunt she must have had an attack of nerves or something. She said she was going to the loo and ended up climbing out of the toilet window. LISTER: I wonder why. RIMMER: It's not 'cos she didn't want to see me, Lister. She phoned the next day and said how much she'd LOVE to come on another date with me, only suddenly she had to move to Pluto. LISTER: You're a sad weasel of a man, you know that, Rimmer? RIMMER: No, it's just that I'm ill at ease with the opposite sex. LISTER: It's because you see them as some alien species that needs to be conquered with trickery. They're not -- they're people. You don't need your book on hypnosis and, and... what's the other one? "1001 Fabulous Chat-up Lines." RIMMER: Lister, I do need that. It's brilliant. Those chat-up lines are guaranteed. LISTER: There's no such thing. RIMMER: Alright. You be a woman. On your own in a bar, short leather miniskirt, peephole bra. LISTER: OK. Go on. RIMMER: Now this is the most incredible chat-up line you've ever heard in your life. Guaranteed. LISTER: Go on. RIMMER: OK, in a bar, on you own. (Pauses as he works up nerve.) Excuse me, would you like to join me for a cocktail? LISTER: No. RIMMER: You can't say "no." It doesn't work when you say "no." You've got to say "yes." LISTER: Oh, right. Okay. Go on, go on. RIMMER: So, would you like a wormdo? LISTER: What's that, then? RIMMER: What's what? LISTER: A wormdo. RIMMER: What about it? LISTER: Is this still the opening line? RIMMER: But you're not giving me the right replies! LISTER: What is the right reply? RIMMER: I come up to you and say, "Excuse me, would you like to join me in a cocktail?" You say, "Yes." I say, "Would you like a wormdo?" You say, "What's a wormdo?" And I say... LISTER: "Oh, it wriggles along the ground like that." RIMMER: You know it! LISTER: Rimmer, you could not pull a rotten tooth out of a dead horse's head with that one. HOLLY appears on a monitor screen. HOLLY: Eureka. I've done it. LISTER: Done what? HOLLY: The Earl of Sandwich invented the sandwich, Samuel Morse invented the Morse Code, Plato invented the plate, and now I, Holly, have invented the Holly Hop Drive. RIMMER: Ooh, I can't wait to see it. HOLLY: It's monumental, this. It's epoch-making. The Holly Hop Drive can transfer any object instantly to any other point in space. LISTER: What? You mean we can go back to Earth? HOLLY: In a matter of seconds. LISTER: What, you mean we can go back to Earth, like, right now? This instant? HOLLY: Right on. LISTER: Rock and roll! Drive room. LISTER and RIMMER view HOLLY's creation -- a small box. LISTER: Is this it? He holds up the HOLLY Hop Drive. HOLLY: What do you think? LISTER: It's just a box with "STOP" and "START" on it! HOLLY: It's fairly straightforward. If you want to start it you press "START," and you can work out the rest of the controls for yourself. RIMMER: It's absolutely pathetic. HOLLY: Right. Let's Holly Hop. Engage drive... drive engaged. Initiating ignition sequence... ignition sequence initiated. RIMMER: Get on with it. HOLLY: It takes time, this. One slight error in any of my thirteen billion calculations and we'll be blasted to smithereens. Here we go, then: 10, 9, 8, 6, 5-- RIMMER: You missed out the seven. HOLLY: Did I? I've always had a bit of a blind spot with sevens. RIMMER: (Sotto voce) We're going to die. HOLLY: No problem. I'll start lower down. 1, blast off. LISTER thumps the "START" button on the HOLLY Hop Drive. Download 194.12 Kb. Share with your friends:
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