- Talk, talk, talk... here's the best of it!
From The End
LISTER: Rimmer, I'm bored!
RIMMER: Bored?! This is essential routine maintenance! It's absolutely vital for the well-being of this crew, this mission, and this ship. (Reading his clipboard) "Dispenser 172: chicken soup nozzle clogged."
LISTER: It's true, you know, though, Rimmer. You rank below all four of those service robots. Even the one that's gone absolutely mad.
RIMMER: Well, Lister, not for long, matey. Up, up, up! That's where I'm going!
LISTER: Not until you pass your engineer's exam. And you won't do that because you'll just go in there and flunk again.
RIMMER: Lister, last time I only failed by the *narrowest* of narrow margins.
LISTER: You what? You walked in there, wrote, "I am a fish," four hundred times, did a funny little dance, and fainted.
(The skutters offers Lister a piece of paper) LISTER: What's this, guys? (Taking the paper and reading it) "Don't go into stasis. Please don't leave us with Rimmer." I'm sorry, guys, I've got to.
The Skutters begin banging their heads on the wall.
(Rimmer sees a Future Echo)
LISTER: What was that?
RIMMER: Brace yourself for a bit of a shock, Lister, but I just saw you die.
LISTER: What?!
RIMMER: I did warn you to brace yourself.
LISTER: You didn't give me much of a chance.
RIMMER: I gave you ample bracing time!
LISTER: No you didn't. You didn't even pause.
RIMMER: Well, I'm sorry! *I've* just had a rather nasty experience. *I* have just seen someone I know die in the most hideous, hideous way!
LISTER: Yeah! *Me*!
RIMMER: You were fiddling around with the navi--
LISTER: I don't want to know! I don't want to know!
RIMMER: You don't want to know how you die?
LISTER: No!(Pause) Was it quick?
RIMMER: Well, I wouldn't say it was super fast. Not if you count the thrashing around and the agonised squealing.
LISTER: You're really loving this, aren't you?
RIMMER: What a horrible thing to say!
LISTER: It was definitely me?
RIMMER: Oh yes.
LISTER: I don't want to know.(Pause) How old did I look?
RIMMER: How old are you now?
LISTER: Twenty-five. How old did I look.
RIMMER: Mmmm ... mid twenties.
RIMMER: Lister, it *has* happened. You can't change it, any more than you can change what you had for breakfast yesterday. LISTER: Hey, it hasn't happened, has it? It has "will have going to have happened" happened, but it hasn't actually "happened" happened yet, actually.
RIMMER: Poppycock! It will be happened; it shall be going to be happening; it will be was an event that could will have been taken place in the future. Simple as that. Your bucket's been kicked, baby.
RIMMER: Holly, I'd like to send an internal memo. Black border. Begins, "To Dave Lister, Condolences on your passing away." What's that poem? "Now, weary traveller, rest your head, for just like me, you're utterly dead."
RIMMER: (Pointing at the pipe) Ah, Lister, what's that for?
LISTER: I'm going out like I came in - screaming and kicking.
RIMMER: You can't whack death on the head!
LISTER: If he comes near me I'm gonna rip his nipples off!
RIMMER: What about me? What happens to me?
LISTER: He can't hear us, Rimmer. He's from the future.
RIMMER: Ah, but if I ask you now, you can remember it, and when you get to be him, you can tell me.
LISTER: Boss thinking.
OLD LISTER: Rimmer. You wanted to know what happened to you?
RIMMER: Yes!
OLD LISTER: Well, come closer.
RIMMER: Yes!
OLD LISTER: Come closer still.
RIMMER: Yes!
OLD LISTER: Closer!
RIMMER: Yes!
(The OLD LISTER then laughs and vanishes)
The Balance of Power
LISTER: I'm going to pass the exams and become an officer.
RIMMER: Oh, come on, wise up, Lister!
LISTER: You'll have to salute me, Rimmer! You'll have to call me "sir!" You'll have to give me Kochanski! And me cigarettes!
RIMMER: And on that day, Lister, Satan will be skating to work.
LISTER: I expect to pass the chef's exam.
RIMMER: Chef? You want to become a chef?
LISTER: Not really. I just want to become your superior.
RIMMER: But a chef? A white hatted ponce? That's not a real officer!
LISTER: It outranks *you*, smeg-for-brains!
RIMMER: (Noticing something on LISTER's desk) And Lister, what's this? Learning drugs? They're illegal, matey! I'm afraid you're in very serious, grave, deep trouble, Lister. Where did you get them? I want names. I want places. I want dates.
LISTER: Arnold Rimmer. His locker. This morning.
RIMMER: Why am I worried? You'll never stick at it. You'll never pass.
LISTER: Say, "You'll never pass, Mr. Lister, sir!" Practice, Rimmer, makes perfect.
(Lister wants to use the hologram to host Kochanski instead of Rimemr for a while)
LISTER: OK, give me Kochanski.
RIMMER: Smeg off! Dishwasher-breath! You won't turn me back on! LISTER: What, Rimsy-Wimsy-Mimsy, me bestest ever pal?
RIMMER: All right, Lister, I *order* you not to take those exams!
LISTER: Black card, Rimmer. (Holds up a real black card.)
RIMMER: *You* are black-carding *me*?
LISTER: That's only the beginning, Rimmer. When I pass the exams and become an officer, you'll be on latrines. You'll have the three o'clock watch every morning. I know you'll obey me, because you, I mean *you*, respect all that officer smeg.
RIMMER: If you mean I respect my superiors no matter who they are, and I obey orders blindly and unquestioningly ... yes! Yes I do!
Waiting for God
(Rimme convinces Holly to show him the captains files on the crew)
RIMMER: Give me ... give me Lister's. Just the remarks.
HOLLY: David Lister, Technician, 3rd class. Captain's remarks: "Has requested sick leave due to diarrhea on no less than 500 occasions. Left his previous job as a supermarket trolley attendant after ten years because he didn't want to get tied down to a career. Promotion prospects: zero."
RIMMER: I always liked Captain Hollister. Such a great reader of men, was Captain Hollister. A marvellous, marvellous man and a tragic loss to us all. All right, Holly, give me...give me mine.
HOLLY: Arnold Rimmer, Technician, 2nd Class. Captain's remarks: "There's a saying amongst the officers: If a job's worth doing, it's worth doing well. If it's not worth doing, give it to Rimmer. He aches for responsibility but constantly fails the engineering exam."
RIMMER: Whoa, whoa, whoa, Holly, Holly. I want *my* report. Rimmer. Two M's, E, R.
HOLLY: "Astoundingly zealous. Possibly mad. Probably has more teeth than brain cells. Promotion prospects: comical."
RIMMER: No no no no no, Holly. I want *Rimmer*. That's two R's, one at the front, one at the back.
HOLLY: Arnold, this *is* your report.
RIMMER: I always hated that pus-head Hollister. He always resented my popularity. That's why he never put forward my proposal to reduce the minimum haircut length by an eighth of an inch. Small-minded, petty-thinking modo.
RIMMER: Well, you'd better find out, hadn't you? It's obviously beyond me. I've got more teeth than brain cells, remember?(Leaves)
HOLLY: (After he's gone)Yes, you have
(Red Dwarf has found an uniditefied pod in space. Rimmer thinks it's alien...)
LISTER: Give me an R, give me an E, give me a D...give me a Red Dwarf Garbage Pod! Holly? Did Rimmer never work in waste disposal?
HOLLY: No, Dave.
LISTER: It's one of our Red Dwarf garbage pods with, like, the writing burnt off in places. Why didn't you tell him?
HOLLY: Well, it's a laugh, innit?
RIMMER: (VO) After intensive investigation, comma, of the markings on the alien pod, comma, it has become clear, comma, to me, comma, that we are dealing, comma, with a species of awesome intellect, colon.
HOLLY: Good. Perhaps they might be able to give you a hand with your punctuation.
RIMMER: Shut up.
RIMMER: Are you awake?
LISTER: Yeah, yeah.
RIMMER: Yeah, I couldn't sleep either. The excitement!
LISTER: What excitement?
RIMMER: The alien excitement!
LISTER: Rimmer, it's garbage.
RIMMER: You can scoff, Lister. That's nothing new. They laughed at Galileo. They laughed at Edison. They laughed at Columbo.
LISTER: Who's Columbo?
RIMMER: The man with the dirty mac who discovered America.
(Rimmer finally opens the pod.. And out comes.. a dead, roasted chicken)
RIMMER: Incredible! A stupendous moment in my own personal history! The perfectly preserved remains of a Quagaar warrior!
LISTER: Yeah, right, Rimmer. Absolutely.
RIMMER: They must have looked something like ... a roast chicken. (Eventually a slightly puzzled expression appears on his face.)
Cut to end credits. At one point, the music stops and the picture freezes.
RIMMER: (VO) It's a garbage pod!
Resume music and pictures. After a bit, they stop again.
RIMMER: IT'S A SMEGGING GARBAGE POD!!
Confidence and Paranoia
LISTER: Rimmer... Love is what makes us different from animals.
RIMMER: No, Lister, what makes us different from animals is we don't use our tongues to clean our own genitals.
HOLLY: Emergency. There's an emergency going on. It's still going on. It's still an emergency. Will Arnold Rimmer please hurry to White Corridor 159. This is an emergency announcement.
Me2 LISTER: Video of Rimmer's death? Holly, get us some popcorn, put the video on for us, would ya?
HOLLY: Well, I can just about manage that, I suppose.
HOLLISTER: (On the video to RIMMER) Look, it was your job to fix it, Rimmer! You can't do sloppy work on the drive plate!
RIMMER: (On the video)I know, sir, and I accept full responsibility for *any* consequences. (Executes a Full-Rimmer salute.)
(A blinding white light glares and everyone is blown across the room by a tremendous wind)
HOLLY: (On the video) Emergency. There's an emergency going on. It's still going on. Will Arnold J. Rimmer please hurry to white corridor 159. This is an emergency announcement.
(Rimmer is thrown against a wall, screaming)
RIMMER: (On the video) Aaaaaiiiiiiiuuuuurrrrghhhhh... Gazpacho soup.(Famous last words, anyone?)
LISTER: Fine, Rimmer, fine. That's very nice. Very, very nice. So, um, what's "gazpacho soup?"
RIMMER: (Dumbstruck) What?
LISTER: It's just that they were your last words and I wondered why.
RIMMER: You've been watching my death video, haven't you?! That's private! It's for my enjoyment only!
LISTER: It just seemed like such a strange thing to say. "Gazpacho soup."
RIMMER: Well, I'm sorry I didn't have time to sit down and bash out a speech in iambic pentameter. I was hit in the face by an atomic explosion.
LISTER: But why "gazpacho soup?"
RIMMER: That, Lister, is something that you will never ever know.
HOLLY: Then you won't want to know about the two super-lightspeed fighters that are tracking us.
LISTER: What?!
HOLLY: I'll leave you to your bubble blowing, mate.
LISTER: No, Holly. Hol. Come on.
HOLLY: They're from Earth.
LISTER: That's three million years away.
HOLLY: They're from the NorWEB Federation.
LISTER: What's that?
HOLLY: NorthWestern Electricity Board. They want you, Dave.
LISTER: Me? Why? What for?
HOLLY: For your crimes against humanity.
LISTER: You what?!
HOLLY: Seems when you left Earth, three million years ago, you left two half-eaten German sausages on a plate in your kitchen.
LISTER: Did I?
HOLLY: You know what happens to sausages left unattended for three million years?
LISTER: Yeah, they go mouldy.
HOLLY: Your sausages, Dave, now cover seven-eighths of the Earth's surface. Also, you left seventeen pounds, fifty pence in your bank account. Thanks to compound interest you now own 98% of all the world's wealth. And because you hoarded it for three million years, nobody's got any money except for you and NorWEB.
LISTER: Why NorWEB?
HOLLY: You left a light on in the bathroom. I've got a final demand here for one hundred and eighty billion pounds.
LISTER: A hundred and eighty billion pounds?!! You're kidding!
HOLLY: (Wearing a Grouch-Marx glasses-nose-and-moustache) April Fool.
LISTER: But it's not April!
HOLLY: Yeah, I know. But I can't be waiting six months with a red-hot jape like that underneath me hat.
RIMMER: I suppose now I'm doomed, I can tell you. Gazpacho soup. It was the greatest night of my life. I'd been invited to the Captain's Table. I'd only been with the company fourteen years. Six officers and me! They called me "Arnold." We had gazpacho soup for starters. I didn't know gazpacho soup was meant to be served cold. I called over the chef and I told him to take it away and bring it back hot. He did! The looks on their faces still haunt me today!! (Crying) I thought they were laughing at the chef, when all the time, they were laughing at me as I ate my piping hot gazpacho soup! I never ate at the Captain's Table again. That was the end of my career.
LISTER: Oh, come on. Anyone could've made that mistake. RIMMER: If only they'd've mentioned it in Basic Training! Instead of climbing up and down ropes and crawling on your elbows through tunnels.(Shouting) If only, just once, they'd said, "Gazpacho soup is served cold!" I could've been an admiral by now! (Quietly) Instead of a nothing which is what I am, let's face it.
LISTER: Aw, come one. You're not a nothing.
CAT: He is.
Kryten
RIMMER: Remember those two little brunettes from supplies? And I told them I worked in stores and they were really interested and asked me exactly what I did there.
LISTER: And I said you were a shelf.
RIMMER: Exactly! And I suggested a little trip to Titan Zoo and you said, "Eww! He's taking ya home ta meet his mum already!"
Better Thank Life
(Rimmer's tried to make a meal..)
RIMMER: Well, a highly enjoyable meal all round. Obviously you can't expect perfection first time but I was quite delighted with the way my dumplings went down.
LISTER: Rimmer, real dumplings, proper dumplings when they're properly cooked to perfection, proper dumplings, should not bounce.
RIMMER: True, but compared to what I thought they were going to be like they were quite superb.
LISTER: So how's the Cat?
RIMMER: He's just sleeping off the stomach pump. He'll be alright. The lamb was a bit of a flop though.
LISTER: The lamb? Everybody thought the lamb was the cheese and that lemon meringue pie, man, what was in that?
(Mail arrives.. 3 million years into deep space)
LISTER: Oh! The new Friday the 13th movie -- Friday the 13th part one thousand six hundred and forty nine.
RIMMER: Look, Cassablanca! hey've re-made Cassablanca!
LISTER: Philistines. I mean how can you re-make Cassablanca? The one starring Myra Dinglebat and Peter Beardsley was definitive.
HOLLY: I saw that one -- knockout! "Of all the space bars on all the worlds you had to re-materialise in mine."
RIMMER: Ah ah ah ah. What are total immersion video games?
LISTER: Where? Oh these are brilliant.(Picks up canister.) You can't get hold of these for love nor money! These are like Venus's arms. These are like Brooke Shield's buttocks.
RIMMER: What are they?
LISTER: Well they're computer games aren't they? But electrodes are inserted into your frontal lobes and hypothalamus right? So you actually feel as though you're really, really there. Yesss.
(Lister sorts through mail)
LISTER: Me. Me. Me. You. Me.
RIMMER: It's all junk mail yours, you know.
LISTER: Me. Me. Me. RIMMER: You send off for every bit of rubbish going, you do. Just so you'll have some mail to open.
LISTER: Me. Me.
RIMMER: (Silly voice) Please rush me my portable walrus polishing kit. Four super brushes that will clean even the trickiest of seabound mammals. Yes I am over eighteen, though my IQ isn't.
LISTER: Me. Me. Smeg! "Outland Revenue."
RIMMER: (Sucks in breath and becomes very cheerful.) Oh oh oh oh, "Outland Revenue."
LISTER: Eight thousand five hundred?
RIMMER: Eight thousand five hundred? (Happily) That's a lot of tax isn't it, Lister? How on Titan are you going to pay for that, eh?
LISTER: I'm not. (Pause) It's yours.
RIMMER: What? (Jumps up.) No. This is wrong. It's wrong. This is well wrong, Lister.
LISTER: Relax. It doesn't matter now. They're not going to catch you now are they?
RIMMER: What do you mean? 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.
LISTER: Me. No another one for you. Rear Admiral Lieutenant General Rimmer.
RIMMER: That's from my mother.
LISTER: Rear Admiral?
RIMMER: Every time I take an exam I tell her I passed. It's getting embarrassing now. I should be Commander in Chief of the whole universe.
(Rimmer is watching the news tape. A hologrammatic newsreader is reading the news)
NEWSREADER: Good evening. Here is the news on Friday, the 27th of Geldof. Archeologists near mount Sinai have discovered what is believed to be a missing page from the Bible. The page is currently being carbon dated in Bonn. If genuine it belongs at the beginning of the Bible and is believed to read "To my darling Candy. All characters portrayed within this book are fictitous and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental." The page has been universally condemned by church leaders.
CAT: About your father. If it's any help, he's in the ground now. Sure it's bad news for him. But on the other hand it's party time for all the little worms. (Wiggles him fingers.)
RIMMER: Ah, I'm sorry, I don't know what happened. I was driving along and suddenly there was McGruder. Well one thing led to another and... Good God! This is a great game! Twice in one lifetime, I'm turning into Hugh Heffner! (He starts to eat some bread.)
LISTER: Rimmer, you can touch things!
RIMMER: I know. Why do you think I was so late? (Makes gesture with fist and elbow so it resembles.. well, you know *g*.)
RIMMER: Father.
RIMMER'S DAD: Son.
RIMMER: What are you doing here?
RIMMER'S DAD: I'm sorry to barge in on you and your, err, officer chummies, but--
RIMMER: Yes?
RIMMER'S DAD: I just wanted to tell you--
RIMMER: Yes?
RIMMER'S DAD: I just wanted to say--
RIMMER: Yes?
RIMMER'S DAD: I just wanted to say-- (pause)You're a total smeghead!
RIMMER: (Looking shocked) What? This isn't my fantasy!
CAT: (Coming into view) No, it's mine. (The CAT steals Rimmer's cigar and exits.)
TAXMAN: Mister Rimmer?
RIMMER: (Weakly) Yes.
TAXMAN: Mister Arnold Judas Rimmer?
RIMMER: Yes.
TAXMAN: (Smiles) Outland Revenue, sir!
RIMMER: Oh my God!
TAXMAN: This is a demand for immediate payment.
RIMMER: Eighteen thousand?
TAXMAN: If you are unable to pay, sir, I am instructed by the Revenue to break both your legs and pull off your thumbs-- (twitches) --sir.
RIMMER: What am I going to do? I'm broke.
LISTER: I'll pay. I'll pay. I'll pay. (Looks through pockets but can't find any cash.)Where's all my money gone?
RIMMER: Oh no! I just fantasised it all away. This is getting worse. Help me.
CAT: Ah! Don't move! A huge, black, furry spider with big teeth just crawled up your trouser leg.
RIMMER: I know. I just put it there. It's the thing I'm afraid of most in the whole world -a tarantula crawling up my trousers.
LISTER: Rimmer, this is getting out of hand.
RIMMER: Do you think I don't know that. Ah! he's past my knee. He's into my boxers.
More quotes to come!!
