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ed <strong>dwarf</strong><br />
<strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part 1<br />
Marooned<br />
Polymorph<br />
Body Swap<br />
Timeslides
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
CARGO BAY.<br />
Marooned<br />
HOLLY: Abandon ship! Black Hole approaching. Abandon<br />
ship... Oh, god, now the siren's broken.<br />
STARBUG COCKPIT. DAY.<br />
RIMMER: But a Black Hole's a huge, compacted star! It's<br />
millions of miles wide! Why didn't you see it on the<br />
radar screen?<br />
HOLLY: Well, the thing about a Black Hole - its main<br />
distinguishing feature - is it's black. And the thing<br />
about space, your basic space colour is black. So how<br />
are you supposed to see them?<br />
RIMMER: But five of them! How can you be ambushed<br />
by five Black Holes?<br />
HOLLY: Always the way, isn't it? You hang around in<br />
Deep Space for <strong>three</strong> million years and you don't see<br />
one. Then, all of a sudden, five all turn up at once.<br />
STARBUG REAR. DAY.<br />
LISTER: Come on -- we've got less than twenty minutes.<br />
RIMMER: Careful ... careful ... Mind the hatchway! Don't<br />
knock it!<br />
LISTER: What'd you want this piece of junk for?<br />
RIMMER: That "piece of junk" happens to be a Javanese<br />
camphor-wood chest. It belonged to my father. It's<br />
got all my valuables in it.<br />
LISTER: I never realised you had so much crap. What's<br />
this? Toy soldiers?<br />
RIMMER: Toy soldiers? They've been in our family for<br />
years. They're priceless nineteenth-century replicas<br />
of Napolean's Armee du Nord.<br />
LISTER: So you can't change the clothes and that, like<br />
you can with Sindy? And what the smeg's this?<br />
Lister pulls out a wad of bank notes.<br />
page 2
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
RIMMER: Just what little I've managed to scrimp and<br />
scrape, by tossing the odd copper aside for a<br />
rainy day.<br />
LISTER: There must be twenty grand here.<br />
RIMMER: Twenty-four. Look -- I thought we were<br />
supposed to be getting off the ship.<br />
LISTER: Twenty-four thousand!? And you had the front<br />
to borrow money off me to buy me a birthday<br />
present?<br />
RIMMER: It was only fifteen quid.<br />
LISTER: Right. Fifteen quid. And what did I get? A fivequid<br />
book token.<br />
RIMMER: Those cards aren't free, you know. I had to<br />
fork out for that as well.<br />
LISTER: And you never paid me back. You're tighter<br />
than an Italian waiter's keks.<br />
THE CAT AND KRYTEN COME IN.<br />
KRYTEN: Blue midget is loaded.<br />
RIMMER: Are you sure you've got everything?<br />
KRYTEN: Just the bare essentials -- food and medical<br />
supplies.<br />
CAT: Yeah, and I'm just taking the bare essentials, too --<br />
thirty-six changes of clothing and ten full-length dress<br />
mirrors.<br />
LISTER: Cat -- we're going to be away twelve hours.<br />
CAT: You think I need more mirrors?<br />
LISTER: Come on, let's move it.<br />
HOLLY: Okay, this is the plan: I'll try and navigate Red<br />
Dwarf through the minefield of Black Holes. If all goes<br />
well, we'll all rendezvous on the desert moon Sigma<br />
four D.<br />
CAT: What happens if all doesn't go well?<br />
HOLLY: Well, Red Dwarf and everything on it will be<br />
compacted to the size of a small garden pea.<br />
LISTER: Bye, bye, Birdseye.<br />
STARBUG REAR. DAY. LISTER IS TURNING ONE OF RIMMER'S<br />
TOY SOLDIERS OVER IN HIS OTHER HAND.<br />
RIMMER: Look, please, honestly. They're priceless.<br />
LISTER: I'm just having a goosie.<br />
RIMMER: Look, if you get curry all over them, how's<br />
that going to look? What's Lieutenant-General Baron<br />
page 3
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
Jaquinaux of the First Cavalry Division supposed to<br />
be doing with meat vindaloo all over his tunic?<br />
LISTER: It'll make him look more authentic. People'll<br />
think he's got dysentry. You're obsessed with war,<br />
aren't you? You collect toy soldiers, play war games,<br />
read all those stupid combat mags. And half your books<br />
are on Patton and Ceasar and various other gits.<br />
RIMMER: It's about leadership. That's what I admire --<br />
the ability to command, to out-think a worthy<br />
opponent on the field of battle.<br />
LISTER: It's so ironic, when deep down you're such a<br />
basic, natural coward.<br />
RIMMER: Coward?<br />
LISTER: Planet leave, Miranda? That space bar, the<br />
"Hacienda?" When that fight started up? You were<br />
out of that door quicker than a whippet with a<br />
bumful of dynamite!<br />
RIMMER: That was a bar-room brawl! A common pub<br />
fight. A shambolic set-to.<br />
LISTER: Which you started.<br />
RIMMER: I just made an innocuous comment, I<br />
merely voiced a rumour that MacWilliams was<br />
sexually tilted in favour of sleeping with the dead. I<br />
didn't start the rumour. I simply voiced it.<br />
LISTER: To his face. Right to his face. When he was<br />
there with his four biggest mates. Then you did your<br />
Roadrunner act, and left me to face the music.<br />
RIMMER: I could have got hurt.<br />
LISTER: You'd have made a brilliant general, would't<br />
you?<br />
RIMMER: Generals don't smash chairs over people's<br />
heads. They don't smash Newcastle Brown bottles<br />
into your face and say "Stitch that, Jimmy." They're in<br />
the nice white tent, on the top of the hill, sipping<br />
Sancerre and directing the battle. They're Men of<br />
Honour.<br />
LISTER: I don't believe it! You make war sound<br />
romantic.<br />
RIMMER: I'll tell you something. Something I've never told<br />
anyone. When I was fifteen, I went to Macedonia on a<br />
school trip, to the site of Alexander The Great's<br />
palace. And for the first time in my whole life, I felt ... I<br />
felt I was home. This place was where I belonged.<br />
Years later, I got friendly with a hypnotherapist --<br />
Donald -- and told him about the Alexander the Great<br />
thing, and he said that he'd regress me back through<br />
my past lives. I was dubious, but I let him put me<br />
page 4
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
under. It turned out my instincts were absolutely<br />
correct -- I had lived a past life in Macedonia. That<br />
palace was my home. Because, believe it or not,<br />
Lister, he told me that, in a past incarnation, I was<br />
Alexander the Great's chief eunuch.<br />
LISTER: Do you know something? I believe you.<br />
RIMMER: He didn't say that I was Alexander himself,<br />
which is obviously what I wanted to hear. But it<br />
explained everything: I'd lived a previous life<br />
alongside one of the greatest generals in history. No<br />
wonder the military's in my blood.<br />
LISTER: No wonder you're such a good singer.<br />
RIMMER: It's funny -- to this day, I can't look at a pair of<br />
nutcrackers without wincing. And why is it,<br />
whenever I'm with a large group of women, I have<br />
this overwhelming urge to bathe them in warm<br />
olive oil?<br />
LISTER: I have that urge, Rimmer. It's got nothing to do<br />
with past lives.<br />
RIMMER: Well, why is it, then?<br />
LISTER: It's because you're unhappy with your own<br />
weasly, humdrum existence. You're looking for<br />
something with a bit more ... I don't know ... glamour.<br />
Now is what counts -- you've got to live life today.<br />
Who knows what's going to happen tomorrow? Who<br />
knows what's going to happen in the next five minutes?<br />
That's what makes life so exciting.<br />
A METEOR SMASHES INTO THEM. STARBUG CRASH-LANDS ON<br />
SNOWY LANDSCAPE.<br />
LISTER: You see what I mean?<br />
RIMMER: Mayday! Mayday! Can you read me? Come in,<br />
please. Can you read me?<br />
RIMMER: Still snowing, is it?<br />
LISTER: It's useless. You can hardly stand up, never<br />
mind dig it out. No luck?<br />
RIMMER: Nothing's getting through.<br />
LISTER: Three Days! They must be looking for us by<br />
now. Where the smeg are they?<br />
RIMMER: It's impossible to find us in this weather. They<br />
could be ten feet away and walk straight past us.<br />
LISTER: We're going to die, aren't we? How much food is<br />
there?<br />
RIMMER: There's half a bag of soggy Smoky Bacon Crisps,<br />
a tin of mustard powder, a brown lemon, <strong>three</strong> water<br />
biscuits, two bottles of vinegar and a tube of Bonjella<br />
gum ointment.<br />
page 5
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
LISTER: Gum ointment?<br />
RIMMER: Yes, it was in the first-aid box. It's that minty<br />
flavour. It's quite nice.<br />
LISTER: It's quite nice if you smear it on your mouth<br />
ulcer, but you can't sit down and eat it.<br />
RIMMER: You may have to.<br />
LISTER: That's it? There's nothing else?<br />
RIMMER: Just a Pot Noodle. Oh, and I found a tin of dog<br />
food in the tool cupboard.<br />
LISTER: Well. Pretty obvious what gets eaten last. I<br />
can't stand pot Noodles. We're going to die, aren't<br />
we? Correction -- I'm going to die. You're a hologram.<br />
You're already dead. You don't need food.<br />
RIMMER: Did you find any wood?<br />
LISTER: There's no wood. There's no vegetation out<br />
there. Smeg all. Just a wasteland.<br />
RIMMER: We can't let that fire go out -- it's your only<br />
form of heat.<br />
LISTER: I'm going to die, aren't I? God, I'm hungry. I'm<br />
going to have the crisps... Just one.<br />
RIMMER: You ate less than sixteen hours ago.<br />
LISTER: It's all right for you. You don't even feel the<br />
cold.<br />
RIMMER: Take your mind off it. Find something to put<br />
on the fire. Mayday! Mayday! I wonder why it's<br />
"Mayday?" The distress call. Why d'you say "Mayday?"<br />
It's only a Bank Holiday. Why not "Shrove Tuesday" or<br />
"Ascension Sunday?" (Mimics) Ascension Sunday!<br />
Ascension Sunday! The fifteenth Wednesday after<br />
Pentecost! The fifteenth Wednesday after Pentecost!<br />
LISTER: It's French, you doink. It's m'aidez. Help me.<br />
Muh-aid-ay. Everywhere I look reminds me of food.<br />
Look at these books: Charles Lamb, Herman Wok, the<br />
complete works of Sir Francis Bacon, Eric Van<br />
Lustbader...<br />
RIMMER: Eric Van Lustbader? What's he got to do<br />
with food?<br />
LISTER: Van. Bread van, meat van, food!<br />
RIMMER: Look, you're getting obsessed.<br />
LISTER: It's these books! It's like someone's put them<br />
there to taunt me. Look at this -- The Caretaker by<br />
Harold Pinta.<br />
RIMMER: It's "Pinter." Stop thinking about food.<br />
LISTER: Take my mind off it. Talk about something.<br />
RIMMER: Like what?<br />
page 6
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
LISTER: Anything. Come on!<br />
RIMMER: Anything apart from food?<br />
LISTER: Don't talk about food!<br />
RIMMER: I just can't think of another topic.<br />
LISTER: Don't mention topics! They're food! Tell me a<br />
story. Any story.<br />
RIMMER: I don't know any stories.<br />
LISTER: Anything. Tell me how you lost your virginity.<br />
RIMMER: My what?<br />
LISTER: Come on. Talk to me.<br />
RIMMER: How I lost it? Well it was so long ago... I was so<br />
young and sexually precocious, I'm not sure I can<br />
remember.<br />
LISTER: Everyone can remember how they lost their<br />
virginity. It's one of those things ... like everyone can<br />
remember where they were when Cliff Richard was<br />
shot. Or when the first woman landed on Pluto. Or<br />
when they installed the gigantic toupee over the earth<br />
to cover the gap in the ozone layer. It's just one of<br />
those things you always remember.<br />
RIMMER: Well, I don't. Good grief, you can hardly<br />
expect me to recall every sexual liason I've ever<br />
partaken of. What d'you think I am -- Marvo the<br />
Memory Man?<br />
LISTER: Come on, Rimmer. The truth.<br />
RIMMER: The truth? Not much to tell, really. I've<br />
always been a bit of a fish out of water when it<br />
comes to women. Never know what to say. I wasn't<br />
very highly sexed, to be honest with you. I think it<br />
was all that school cabbage I was forced to eat as a<br />
boy. Still, the first time... the first time was this girl I<br />
met at Cadet College. Sandra, she was called. We did<br />
it in the back of my brother's car.<br />
LISTER: What was it like?<br />
RIMMER: Oh, brilliant. Inc<strong>red</strong>ible. Bentley convertible.<br />
V8 turbo. Walnut veneer panelling. Marvellous<br />
machine. So what about you?<br />
LISTER: Michelle Fisher. The ninth hole of the Bootle<br />
Municipal golf course. Par four, dogleg to the right, in<br />
the bunker behind the green.<br />
RIMMER: You lost your virginity on a golf course? How<br />
did you have the nerve?<br />
LISTER: It wasn't in the middle of the Ryder Cup or<br />
anything. It was midnight.<br />
RIMMER: Oh, I see.<br />
page 7
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
LISTER: Michelle Fisher. God, she was gorgeous.<br />
RIMMER: How old were you?<br />
LISTER: Just gorgeous. If she'd have wanted, she could<br />
probably have got a job behind the perfume<br />
counter at Lewis', that's how good-looking she<br />
was.<br />
RIMMER: How old were you?<br />
LISTER: She took off all her clothes and just stood there<br />
in front of me, completely naked. I was so excited, I<br />
nearly dropped my skateboard.<br />
RIMMER: Your skateboard? How old were you?<br />
LISTER: Twelve.<br />
RIMMER: Twelve! Twelve years old? You lost your<br />
virginity when you were twelve? Well, you can't have<br />
been a full member of the Golf Club, then.<br />
LISTER: 'Course I wasn't.<br />
RIMMER: You did it on a golf course, and you weren't a<br />
member? You didn't pay any green fees or anything?<br />
LISTER: It was just a place to go.<br />
RIMMER: I used to play golf. I hate people who abuse<br />
the facilities. I hope you raked the sand back nicely<br />
before you left. That'd be a hell of a lie to get into,<br />
wouldn't it? Competition the next day, and your ball<br />
lands in Lister's buttock crevice. You'd need more<br />
than a niblick to get that one out.<br />
LISTER: Are you trying to say I've got a big bum?<br />
RIMMER: Big? It's like two badly-parked Volkswagens. The<br />
only things I ever lost when I was twelve were my<br />
shoes with the compass in the heel and the animal<br />
tracks on the soles. Porky Roebuck threw them in the<br />
septic tank behind the sports ground. I cried for<br />
weeks -- I was wearing them. I never even thought<br />
about sex when I was twelve.<br />
LISTER: Maybe that's because you used to be<br />
Alexander the Great's chief eunuch.<br />
Lister starts tearing pages from the book and throwing<br />
them on to the fire.<br />
RIMMER: What are you doing?<br />
LISTER: There's nothing left to burn.<br />
RIMMER: But not my books! Don't burn the books.<br />
LISTER: There's nothing else left.<br />
RIMMER: But it's obscene. A book is a thing of beauty.<br />
The voice of freedom. It's the essence of civilisation.<br />
LISTER: (reads title) Biggles' Big Adventure.<br />
page 8
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
RIMMER: Well, perhaps not that one, but you know<br />
what I'm saying.<br />
LISTER: Complete Works of Shakespeare. That should<br />
be good for a couple of hours.<br />
RIMMER: Three days without food, and the walls of<br />
civilisation come tumbling down!<br />
LISTER: What d'you mean?<br />
RIMMER: They say that every society is only <strong>three</strong> meals<br />
away from revolution. Deprive a culture of food for<br />
<strong>three</strong> meals, and you'll have an anarchy. And it's true,<br />
isn't it? You haven't eaten for a couple of days, and<br />
you've turned into a barbarian.<br />
LISTER: I'm just burning a book!<br />
RIMMER: It's not just a book. It's the only copy of<br />
probably the greatest work in English literature.<br />
Probably the only copy left in the entire universe, and<br />
you're quite happy to toss it on the fire to keep<br />
your little mitts warm for fifteen minutes?<br />
LISTER: There's nothing else to burn.<br />
RIMMER: That's it, then, is it? Goodbye Hamlet?<br />
Farewell Macbeth? Toodle-pip King Lear?<br />
LISTER: Have you ever read any of it?<br />
RIMMER: I've seen West Side Story. That's based on one<br />
of them.<br />
LISTER: Yeah, but have you actually read any?<br />
RIMMER: Not all the way through, no. I can quote<br />
some, though.<br />
LISTER: Go on, then.<br />
RIMMER: "Now..." That's all I can remember.<br />
LISTER: Where's that from, then?<br />
RIMMER: Richard III, you moron. The speech that he<br />
does at the beginning. "Now..." something<br />
something something. It's brilliant writing. It really is.<br />
Unforgettable.<br />
LISTER: OK, I'll save it till last. Lolita. Is it OK if I burn<br />
Lolita?<br />
RIMMER: Save page sixty-one. That bit.<br />
LISTER: That's disgusting.<br />
STARBUG REAR. DAY.<br />
LISTER: And you can take that look off your face: like<br />
I'm doing something disgusting. I'm just trying to stay<br />
alive.<br />
RIMMER: You're going to eat the dog food.<br />
page 9
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
LISTER: I haven't eaten for six days. Yes, I'm going to<br />
eat the dog food.<br />
RIMMER: I'm sure the dog food will be lovely.<br />
LISTER: This isn't dog food. It's a piece of prime fillet<br />
steak in blue cheese sauce. It's been charcoal broiled in<br />
garlic butter. Just smell that. It's delicious… (tastes it)<br />
Well, now I know why dogs lick their testicles -- it's to<br />
take away the taste of their food.<br />
RIMMER: The stove's getting low. Better throw<br />
another book on.<br />
LISTER: That's the last one.<br />
RIMMER: You've burnt all of them?<br />
LISTER: When we get through to Act Five of Henry<br />
VIII, I'm a dead man.<br />
RIMMER: There must be something else to burn.<br />
THEY LOOK AROUND. THEIR EYES STOP ON THE TRUNK.<br />
RIMMER: No. It's Javanese camphor wood. It's priceless.<br />
LISTER: There's nothing else left to burn except the<br />
trunk and what's in the trunk.<br />
RIMMER: Now wait a minute. Not Napoleon's Armee du<br />
Nord!<br />
LISTER: Rimmer, get real, man. If it burns, we burn it.<br />
What's the least valuable?<br />
RIMMER: Not the trunk. My father gave me that trunk.<br />
LISTER: The soldiers, then.<br />
RIMMER: They're ninteenth-century. They're<br />
irreplacable. They were hand-carved by the<br />
legendary Dubois brothers.<br />
LISTER: Well, then?<br />
LISTER BRINGS OUT TWO HUGE WADS OF NOTES.<br />
STARBUG REAR. MONEY IS BURNING.<br />
RIMMER: How much has gone so far?<br />
LISTER: Five thousand eight hund<strong>red</strong>. Six grand.<br />
RIMMER: The whole twenty-four grand isn't going to last<br />
an hour, is it? It took me ten years to save it. Ten<br />
years!<br />
LISTER: I'd better start unpacking the soldiers.<br />
RIMMER: No. There must be something else to burn.<br />
There must be.<br />
LISTER: There isn't. I looked. Listen, I know it's a<br />
bummer. I know it must be heartbreaking. But it's<br />
only stuff. It's just possessions. In the end, they're<br />
page 10
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
not important. They might go a bundle for some<br />
swanky Islington antique shop -- but right here, and<br />
right now, all they are is nicely painted firewood.<br />
RIMMER: This isn't happening. It's a nightmare.<br />
LISTER: You've got to get your priorities right. It's like<br />
those people you read about who run back into a<br />
burning house to rescue some treasu<strong>red</strong> piece of<br />
furniture and wind up burning to death. Nothing is<br />
more important than a human life...<br />
RIMMER: What about your guitar?<br />
LISTER: Except my guitar.<br />
RIMMER: Why didn't we think of it before? We can burn<br />
your guitar.<br />
LISTER: Not my guitar, Rimmer.<br />
RIMMER: It's made of wood.<br />
LISTER: Yeah, but it's my guitar. I've had it since I was<br />
sixteen. It's an authentic Les Paul copy.<br />
RIMMER: But it's not worth anything. It's just a thing. It's<br />
just a possession.<br />
LISTER: Yeah, but it's mine.<br />
RIMMER: How is it any different from my soldiers?<br />
LISTER: It's my life-line. I need that guitar. When it<br />
gets to me -- I mean the loneliness -- when it gets<br />
on top of me... it's the only way I can escape. I<br />
mean, I know I'm not exactly a wizard on it, and it's<br />
only got five strings, and <strong>three</strong> of them are G, but the<br />
whole of my life I've never had anything to hang on<br />
to -- no roots, no parents, no education... I went to art<br />
college. All I've ever had is that guitar. It's the only<br />
thing in the whole of my miserable smegging life that<br />
hasn't walked out on me. Don't make me burn it.<br />
RIMMER: We've got to.<br />
LISTER: Look. this is going to sound pretty stupid... but I'd<br />
just like to play one more song on it. One for the<br />
road.<br />
RIMMER: Sure, sure. I mean -- I'm not enjoying this.<br />
LISTER: I know. Thanks, man. (singing) "She's Out Of My<br />
Life ... She's Out Of My Life." (spoken) My step-dad<br />
taught me this one. First song I ever learned to play.<br />
(singing) "And I don't know whether to laugh or cry..."<br />
RIMMER GETS UP, EMBARRASED. HE WALKS UP TO THE DOOR.<br />
LISTER PUTS DOWN THE GUITAR AND NIPS OVER TO THE<br />
TRUNK, TAKES A PENCIL OUT OF POCKET AND STARTS<br />
TRACING THE GUITAR SHAPE ON THE BACK OF THE TUNK.<br />
page 11
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
RIMMER COMES IN. LISTER IS SITTING AT THE STOVE, GUITAR-<br />
SHAPED PIECES OF WOOD BURNING MERRILY AWAY.<br />
RIMMER: I don't know what to say.<br />
LISTER: Nothing TO say.<br />
RIMMER: You've made a supreme sacrifice. You know<br />
that? A supreme sacrifice.<br />
LISTER: Had to be done.<br />
RIMMER: I've been judging a book by its cover,<br />
haven't I? All these years, that's what I've been<br />
doing. But when it comes down to it, you're one<br />
heck of a regular guy. There's no point in being<br />
modest. I know what that guitar meant to you. The<br />
same as that trunk meant to me. If that trunk got so<br />
much as scratched, I'd be devastated. It's not the<br />
outward value -- for me, that trunk is a link to the<br />
past. A link to the father I never managed to square<br />
things with...<br />
LISTER: Is it?<br />
RIMMER: It's the only thing he ever gave me, apart from<br />
... apart from his disappointment. But you've shown<br />
me, by burning your guitar, what true value is.<br />
Decency. Self-sacrifice. Those are the things that<br />
make up real wealth. And from where I'm<br />
standing ... I'm a pretty rich man. Burn the soldiers.<br />
LISTER: No. Not the soldiers too.<br />
RIMMER: You burnt your guitar. I wish to make a<br />
sacrifice, too. Burn the Armee du Nord. Cast them<br />
into the flames: let them lay down their lives for<br />
the sake of friendship. What's that smell?<br />
LISTER: What smell? I can't smell any smell.<br />
RIMMER: Camphor. Your guitar was made of camphor<br />
wood! It was probably worth a fortune. Burn the<br />
soldiers -- burn them right now.<br />
THE SOLDIERS ARE BURNING AWAY.<br />
RIMMER: Au revoir, mes amis. A bientot.<br />
LISTER: Look -- there's something I've got to tell you<br />
... something awful.<br />
RIMMER: If it's about how you finished off the dog<br />
food, I understand.<br />
LISTER: No, it's not about that.<br />
THE DOOR OPENS, AND KRYTEN AND CAT ENTER.<br />
LISTER: Cat! Kryten! You made it -- you found us!<br />
RIMMER: So where have you been the last six days?<br />
page 12
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
KRYTEN: We rendezvoused with Holly. Then, after two<br />
days, when you still hadn't turned up, I said we<br />
should go and look for you.<br />
CAT: We have been everywhere. Fourteen moons, two<br />
planets. I've been so worried - I haven't buffed my<br />
shoes in two days.<br />
RIMMER: So -- Holly managed to navigate her way<br />
through the five Black Holes?<br />
HOLLY APPEARS ON KRYTEN'S CHEST MONITOR.<br />
HOLLY: As it happens, there weren't any Black Holes.<br />
RIMMER: But you saw them -- you saw them on the<br />
monitor.<br />
HOLLY: They weren't Black Holes.<br />
RIMMER: What were they?<br />
HOLLY: Grit. Five specks of grit on the scanner-scope.<br />
See, the thing about grit is, it's black, and the thing<br />
about scanner-scopes...<br />
RIMMER: Oh, shut up.<br />
LISTER: Come on. Let's go.<br />
RIMMER: Something happened here, Kryten. Something<br />
that made us closer. I saw a side of Dave Lister that<br />
I didn't even know existed. He's not just an<br />
irresponsible, selfish drifter, out for number one ...<br />
He's a Man of Honour.<br />
LISTER COMES BACK IN. HE OPENS THE LOCKER, TAKES OUT<br />
HIS GUITAR AND EXITS.<br />
RIMMER: Kryten, would you get the hacksaw and follow<br />
me?<br />
KRYTEN: Where are we going?<br />
RIMMER: We're going to do to Lister what Alexander<br />
the Great once did to me.<br />
page 13
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
Polymorph<br />
VOICE: This week's "Red Dwarf" contains scenes which<br />
are unsuitable for younger viewers and people of a<br />
nervous disposition. You have been warned.<br />
A POD IS FLOATING THROUGH SPACE. SIGNS ON THE SIDE<br />
READ "GENETIC WASTE" AND "DO NOT OPEN."<br />
VOICE: Danger. Do not attempt to open this pod. The<br />
creature inside is extremely hostile. It feeds off the<br />
human psyche, seeks out the deranged, the<br />
unbalanced and the emotionally crippled.<br />
IN THE OFFICERS' QUARTERS, LISTER IS PREPARING A MEAL.<br />
KRYTEN: I just thought I'd give your quarters a<br />
quick tickle around, sir. I won't take a jiff.<br />
LISTER: Not now, Kryten -- I'm cooking.<br />
KRYTEN ATTACHES THE TUBE TO HIS GROIN AND BEGINS<br />
VACUUMING.<br />
LISTER: I didn't know you could do that!<br />
KRYTEN: Oh yes, I can plug a number of add-ons into<br />
my groinal socket, allowing me to perform virtually<br />
any household task imaginable.<br />
LISTER: Like what?<br />
KRYTEN: Oh, you name it: buzz saw, power drill, hedge<br />
trimmer ... even an egg whisk.<br />
LISTER: What, so you just, like, stick the egg whisk<br />
attachment on the end and you can, like, whip up a<br />
Spanish omelette?<br />
KRYTEN: I certainly can, sir, but it's amazing how few<br />
people are prepa<strong>red</strong> to eat them… Goodness me, I<br />
must have sucked up a penny. I'd better change<br />
the old bag there. Yes, I'll just go and get a fresh one.<br />
CAT: Mmm! Something smells good! What is it? It's me! I<br />
love this aftershave!<br />
LISTER: You are five minutes away from the greatest<br />
meal of your life, man, so set your tastebuds on<br />
Defcom 3!<br />
CAT: Hey, you've really made an effort here! Where'd<br />
you get all this stuff?<br />
page 14
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
LISTER: I just got sick and ti<strong>red</strong> of using plastic knives<br />
and forks, man, so I went to the medical unit and<br />
nicked some gear.<br />
CAT: This is a scalpel! I'm supposed to cut my food with<br />
a scalpel? Something that has been inside someone's<br />
guts?<br />
LISTER: It's all been cleaned; it's all been washed; it's<br />
clean.<br />
CAT: ...something that, long ago in history, may well<br />
have performed a certain popular Jewish operation?<br />
I'm supposed to eat with this?<br />
LISTER: Get the onion salads out of the fridge!<br />
CAT: "Embryo Refrigeration Unit?!"<br />
LISTER: How many times...? It's clean! It's been<br />
cleaned! They're in the kidney bowls, next to the bag<br />
with the chilli sauce in it. Come on, man, come on!<br />
It's ready! Sit down, sit down! One kebab for you ...<br />
and one kebab for me.<br />
LISTER: Lemon juice?<br />
CAT: What the hell is that?<br />
LISTER: It's a syringe.<br />
CAT: What kind of syringe?<br />
LISTER: It's for cows -- artificial insemination. It's been<br />
washed; it's clean; it's all been sterilised. Do you want<br />
lemon juice or what?<br />
CAT: Ahem. Excuse me. This isn't a meal -- this is an<br />
autopsy!<br />
LISTER: It's only the starter, man! What about the main<br />
course?<br />
CAT: Hey, you think I got nothing better to do than<br />
hang around watching you serve chicken in a stool<br />
bucket? (leaves)<br />
LISTER: Oh, charming. (picks up a urine-sample bottle<br />
of wine and begins to pour it into a beaker) I dunno.<br />
You pull out all the stops ... you make an effort ...<br />
try and do something with a little bit of extra class,<br />
and where does it get you?<br />
VIDEO ROOM.<br />
KRYTEN: Oh, I'm sorry to interrupt, sir. I just need to<br />
get a, heh heh... er, sorry.<br />
RIMMER: Oh, no, Kryten, it's all right. Just running a few<br />
of the old home movies. (pointing at the screen)<br />
That's me, there. Those are my brothers: John, Frank,<br />
and Howard. God, we were close. "The Four<br />
page 15
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
Musketeers," we used to call ourselves. Well, "The<br />
Three Musketeers," actually -- they always let me be<br />
the Queen of Spain. Marvellous. I mean, yes, I was the<br />
butt of the occasional practical joke, but I mean,<br />
er, nothing sinister. Just the usual boyhood pranks,<br />
you know: apple-pied beds, and black-eyed telescope ...<br />
and, one time, they even hid a small land mine in my<br />
sand pit. They took it from my father's gun cabinet. I<br />
mean, how were they supposed to know it was<br />
going to go off? Marvellous guys.<br />
KRYTEN: Oh, and who's that, there? An old girlfriend, Mr<br />
Arnold, sir?<br />
RIMMER: Hardly.<br />
KRYTEN: Ah, no. Not really your type, I suppose -- silly<br />
old trout like that.<br />
RIMMER: She's my mother.<br />
KRYTEN: Oh! I am so sorry, sir!<br />
RIMMER: Just forget it.<br />
KRYTEN: Oh, how can I forget it, sir? I compa<strong>red</strong> your<br />
mother to a foolish, aged, blubbery fish! I said she<br />
was a simple-minded scaly old piscine! I estimated<br />
she was an ugly, lungless marine animal with galloping<br />
senility! A putrid amphibious gillbreather with less<br />
brains than a mollusc!<br />
RIMMER: Forget it! Freeze! There she is -- magnificent<br />
woman. Very prim, very proper. Some say austere.<br />
Some people took her for cold, thought she was<br />
aloof. Not a bit of it -- she just despised idiots; no<br />
time for fools. Tragic, really. Otherwise we would<br />
have got on famously.<br />
KRYTEN: Well, if you'll excuse me, sir, I'll go now --<br />
this is clearly a very private family moment. I've no fish<br />
to embarrass you further. I'll let myself trout.<br />
HOLLY: I don't want you to panic, Arn, but it does<br />
appear there's a very tiny possibility that there may<br />
very well in all likelihood possibly be a non-human<br />
life form on board.<br />
RIMMER: You mean like last time, when you got us all<br />
worked up and we went scooting off down to the<br />
cargo bay complete with bazookoids and backpacks,<br />
and it turned out to be one of Lister's socks?<br />
HOLLY: I didn't recognise the genetic structure.<br />
Biologically speaking, they were a completely new<br />
life form.<br />
RIMMER: Absolutely ridiculous! I felt the total goit.<br />
HOLLY: Well, I think you should take a butchers.<br />
page 16
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
RIMMER: Where is it?<br />
HOLLY: I lost it. It's somewhere along the habitation<br />
decks.<br />
RIMMER: I can't get a moment's peace in this place...<br />
SLEEPING QUARTERS.<br />
KRYTEN: Enjoying your meal, sir?<br />
LISTER: It's delicious, Kryten -- de-smegging-licious. It's<br />
my own recipe, you know: Shami Kebab Diablo! It's<br />
beautiful, man. It's like eating molten lava. I cooked<br />
up one for Petersen once, you know... he was in<br />
sickbay for a week -- for a week!<br />
THE KEBAB WRIGGLES AND SNEEZES.<br />
LISTER: What'd you say?<br />
KRYTEN: I didn't say anything, sir.<br />
LISTER SETS TO CUT THE KEBAB. IT LEAPS AROUND HIS NECK.<br />
KRYTEN: Do you seriously like them that hot, sir?<br />
LISTER: It's trying to kill me!<br />
KRYTEN: Oh, it's a good one, huh?<br />
LISTER: It went under here -- I can see it!<br />
KRYTEN: Are you all right, sir?<br />
LISTER: Smeg! It's gone! How can that be? Where<br />
could it go? We better get out of here, Kryten.<br />
Something very weird is going on. Something very,<br />
very-- ooh! There's some kind of pain in my groin...<br />
KRYTEN: What's wrong?<br />
LISTER: My underpants -- they're shrinking! Oh god! The<br />
boxers are alive, man! They're getting smaller! Help<br />
me, please! Please, I'm begging you! Get them off,<br />
man! Pull them down!<br />
RIMMER: Well, I can't say I'm totally shocked... You'll<br />
bonk anything, won't you, Lister!<br />
LISTER: Kryten, the boxers: where are they?<br />
KRYTEN: I threw them over here… There's nothing here!<br />
Just the blanket, and the pillows, and the... Snake!<br />
LISTER: I hate snakes! They freak me out totally,<br />
snakes. They are my all-time second-worst fear, guy.<br />
RIMMER: What's your first?<br />
A HUGE FLESHY CREATURE SHOOTS OUT. IT HAS A SET OF<br />
SHARP TEETH ON EXTENDABLE JAWS.<br />
LISTER: This.<br />
page 17
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
MEDICAL UNIT.<br />
CAT: Is he OK?<br />
RIMMER: As far as we can tell, yes.<br />
CAT: So where'd the creature go?<br />
RIMMER: Well, it turned into a kind of splodgy, squelchy<br />
thing and squidged off down the corridor.<br />
CAT: What is it? Some kind of alien?<br />
HOLLY: No, it's from Earth -- man made. I checked<br />
out its DNA profile. Some kind of genetic experiment<br />
that went wrong.<br />
KRYTEN: Apparently, it was an attempt to create the<br />
ultimate warrior -- a mutant that could change shape<br />
to suit its terrain and deceive its enemies.<br />
CAT: So what did go wrong?<br />
HOLLY: It feeds off the negative emotions -- fear, guilt,<br />
anger, paranoia -- drains them out of its prey.<br />
KRYTEN: It's a sort of emotional vampire. It changes<br />
shape to provoke a negative emotion -- in Lister's<br />
case, it took him to the very limit of his terror,<br />
then sucked out his fear.<br />
RIMMER: So now Lister's got no sense of fear?<br />
KRYTEN: Precisely.<br />
RIMMER: What are we going to do?<br />
LISTER: Well, I say let's get out there and twat it!<br />
RIMMER: Lister, you're ill. Just relax and leave this to<br />
us.<br />
LISTER: I could have had it in the sleeping quarters, but<br />
you saw it -- you saw it -- it took me by surprise.<br />
RIMMER: Lister, it turned into an eight-foot-tall, armourplated<br />
alien killing machine.<br />
LISTER: If it wants a Bonney, we'll give it one! One swift<br />
knee in the happy sacks; it'll drop like anyone else!<br />
RIMMER: Fine, well, we'll bear that in mind when we're<br />
planning our strategy.<br />
LISTER: I'm gonna rip out its windpipe and beat it to<br />
death with the tonsil end. I'm gonna stick my fist so<br />
far down its gob, I'll be able to pull the label off its<br />
underpants.<br />
Kryten injects a sedative through Lister's arm.<br />
LISTER: What's that, pal? You starting trouble?<br />
KRYTEN: It's just a little something to calm you<br />
down, sir.<br />
page 18
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
LISTER: Come on, then! All of you, slags! All together or<br />
one at a time! I don't care -- it's all the same to<br />
me! I'm... (collapses)<br />
RIMMER: Ah, thank god for that. Right -- as far as I<br />
can see it, we have two options: One, we take it on<br />
and kill it; or Two, run away. Who's for Two?<br />
KRYTEN: Two sounds pretty good to me, sir.<br />
CAT: It's always been my lucky number.<br />
RIMMER: Right, well, let's load up Starbug and get out of<br />
here.<br />
HOLLY: What about Lister?<br />
RIMMER: Oh, just seal the hatch from the inside. He'll<br />
be safe here until we're ready to go.<br />
HOLLY: Remember: it's out there, and it could be<br />
anything.<br />
RIMMER: Let's move it.<br />
KRYTEN: What about the Space Corps Directive which<br />
states, "It is our primary overriding duty to contact<br />
other life forms, exchange information, and,<br />
wherever possible, bring them home?"<br />
RIMMER: What about the Rimmer Directive which states,<br />
"Never tangle with anything that's got more teeth<br />
than the entire Osmond family?"<br />
CARGO DECK.<br />
RIMMER: Set the bazookoids to heat-seeker. When you<br />
see it, aim roughly in its direction, and the heat<br />
seekers will do the rest. Is that a shadow? It's in the<br />
shadows! There! There! Sorry. My fault. False alarm.<br />
CAT: Idiot.<br />
RIMMER: I don't understand it -- holograms don't<br />
produce heat, and neither do androids. What are<br />
they homing in on?<br />
ENERGY BALLS RETURN ROUND THE CORNER, CHASING CAT.<br />
CAT: Oh, come on -- give me a break!<br />
Cat runs to a dead end except for a door. He activates<br />
the door, trapping the energy balls inside.<br />
CAT: You either got it or you ain’t. Boys, you ain’t<br />
even close.<br />
RIMMER: Cat, where are you?<br />
CAT: Over here!<br />
RIMMER: Stay put -- we'll come and find you.<br />
KRYTEN: Keep talking!<br />
page 19
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
WOMAN: What are you looking for?<br />
CAT: A mutant. It's dangerous -- it can turn into<br />
anything!<br />
WOMAN: Oh, sounds pretty scary!<br />
CAT: It is, baby. Believe me.<br />
WOMAN: It must take a really brave sort of guy to do<br />
this kind of work.<br />
CAT: Well, I guess you're right!<br />
WOMAN: And smart -- I bet you have to be smart!<br />
CAT: Smart? Yeah, you definitely have to be smart.<br />
Like I say, it can turn into anything. You gotta have<br />
your wits about you all the time -- don't let up for<br />
one second, or it'll just creep up on you and blip --<br />
you're dog meat.<br />
WOMAN: You know, you're really quite a guy -- brave,<br />
smart, handsome...<br />
CAT: Oh, you think handsome?<br />
WOMAN: Oh, come on. You know, you're probably the<br />
best-looking guy I've ever seen.<br />
CAT: Well, I wasn't going to be the first to say it.<br />
WOMAN: Do you know what I'd really like? I'd really like<br />
to make love to a guy like you.<br />
CAT: Well, I'm sure I have a window in my schedule<br />
somewhere. Let's see ... what are you doing in, say,<br />
ten seconds time?<br />
WOMAN: Nothing I couldn't cancel.<br />
CAT: Hi. I'm the Cat.<br />
WOMAN: Hi. I'm the Genetic Mutant.<br />
CAT: Glad to know you ... Genny who?<br />
RIMMER: It's got him! It's got him! Is he dead?<br />
KRYTEN: Unconscious, but, according to the psi scan,<br />
he appears to have lost an emotion.<br />
RIMMER: Which emotion?<br />
KRYTEN: He's lost his vanity!<br />
RIMMER: This is your fault, Kryten. We were supposed<br />
to stick together. You let the Cat run off alone. He<br />
trusted you. Now look at him.<br />
KRYTEN: Oh, please... I feel so--<br />
RIMMER: GUILTY?!<br />
KRYTEN: Yes.<br />
RIMMER: GOOD!<br />
THE SLIMY SUCKER PLOPS ONTO KRYTEN'S FOREHEAD,<br />
SUCKING THE GUILT FROM KRYTEN.<br />
page 20
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
RIMMER: Let's just get Lister and get out of here!<br />
KRYTEN: It's got my guilt! I have lost the single emotion<br />
which prevents my transgressing the mores, moras,<br />
and matters of civilised society.<br />
RIMMER: Stop your blithering, Kryten. Come on! Grab<br />
the Cat, and let's go!<br />
KRYTEN: Oh, screw you, hadron-head!<br />
MEDICAL UNIT.<br />
RIMMER: Where have you been? Let's go!<br />
CAT: I've been getting myself comfortable, man.<br />
RIMMER: Come on, Kryten! You're holding us all up!<br />
KRYTEN: Ah, who cares?<br />
RIMMER: You're going to get us all killed!<br />
KRYTEN: So? Oh, look! It's Bonehead's mum.<br />
RIMMER: Mother?<br />
RIMMER’S MOTHER: Hello, dear!<br />
RIMMER: What are you doing?<br />
RIMMER’S MOTHER: Well, what does it look like,<br />
darling?<br />
RIMMER: You've just made love to my mother!?<br />
LISTER: Yeah. Do you want to make something of it?<br />
HOLLY: It's not your mother, it's the polymorph!<br />
RIMMER: You've just had my mum!?<br />
RIMMER’S MOTHER: Five times! He was like a wild<br />
stallion!<br />
KRYTEN: "Very prim, very proper, almost austere!"<br />
HOLLY: Don't fall for it, it's trying to make you angry!<br />
RIMMER’S MOTHER: Darling, I wish you could have<br />
seen him in action. He was like a set of pistons in an<br />
ocean liner engine room.<br />
RIMMER: I think I'm going to be sick.<br />
HOLLY: Don't get angry! That's what it wants!<br />
RIMMER: Lister and mother... It's a dream come true.<br />
RIMMER’S MOTHER: He's so energetic! I honestly<br />
thought my false teeth were going to fall out.<br />
RIMMER: How lovely.<br />
RIMMER’S MOTHER: The positions he bent me into!<br />
RIMMER: Terrific. That sounds enchanting. Well done.<br />
RIMMER’S MOTHER: And the things this boy can do with<br />
Alphabetti Spaghetti!<br />
HOLLY: Cool it, Arnie!<br />
page 21
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
SLEEPING QUARTERS. LATER.<br />
CAT: Where is it now?<br />
HOLLY: It's gone back down to the cargo bays, sleeping<br />
off a four-course meal of fear, vanity, guilt, and anger.<br />
You'd better get it before it comes back for<br />
seconds.<br />
RIMMER: Look, just because it's an armour-plated alien<br />
killing machine that salivates unspeakable slobber,<br />
doesn't mean it's a bad person. What we've got to<br />
do is get it round a table, and put together a solution<br />
package -- perhaps over tea and biscuits.<br />
KRYTEN: Look at him! You can't trust his opinion -- he's<br />
got no anger. He's a total dork!<br />
RIMMER: Good point, Kryten. Let's take that on<br />
board, shall we? David, do you have anything you<br />
want to bring to this forum?<br />
LISTER: Well, yes, I have, actually, Arnold. Why don't<br />
we go down to the ammunition stores, get the<br />
nuclear warheads and then strap one to my head? I'll<br />
nuke the smegger to oblivion!<br />
RIMMER: Right, well, that's very nice, David. Let's put<br />
that on the back burner, shall we? Cat, let's have<br />
your contribution... come on.<br />
CAT: Hey, don't ask me my opinion -- I'm nobody. Just<br />
pretend I'm not here.<br />
RIMMER: That's lovely. Thank you very much. Moving<br />
on a step -- and I hope no one thinks that I'm setting<br />
myself up as a self-elected chairperson... just see me<br />
as a facilitator -- erm, Kryten, what's your view? Don't<br />
be shy.<br />
KRYTEN: Well, I think we should send Lister in as a<br />
decoy, and, while it's busy eating him alive, we could<br />
creep up on it unawares and blast it into the<br />
stratosphere.<br />
LISTER: Good plan! That's the best plan yet! Let it get<br />
knacke<strong>red</strong> eating me to death, then you guys could<br />
just, like, catch it unawares!<br />
RIMMER: Well, that's certainly an option, David, yes, but<br />
here's my proposal: Let's get tough. The time for<br />
talking is over. Call it extreme if you like, but I<br />
propose we hit it hard and hit it fast with a major -<br />
- and I mean MAJOR -- leaflet campaign, and while it's<br />
reeling from that, we'd follow up with a a car boot<br />
sale, some street theatre and possibly even some<br />
benefit concerts. OK? Now, if that's not enough, I'm<br />
sorry, it's time for the T-shirts: "Mutants Out"...<br />
page 22
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
"Chameleonic Life Forms, No Thanks" ... and if that's<br />
not enough, well, I don't know what will be.<br />
KRYTEN: Has anyone ever told you that you are a<br />
disgusting, pus-filled bubo who has all the wit, charm<br />
and self-possession of an Alsatian dog after a headswap<br />
operation?<br />
LISTER: Listen, you bunch of tarts, it's clobbering<br />
time! There's a body bag out there with that<br />
scudball's name on it, and I'm doing up the zip.<br />
Anyone who gets in my way gets a napalm enema!<br />
CAT: I think everybody's right, except me, so just forget I<br />
spoke, all right?<br />
RIMMER: I think we're all beginning to lose sight of the<br />
real issue here, which is: what are we going to call<br />
ourselves? I think it comes down to a choice<br />
between "The League Against Salivating Monsters" or,<br />
my own personal preference, which is "The<br />
Committee for the Liberation and Integration of<br />
Terrifying Organisms and their Rehabilitation Into<br />
Society." One drawback with that -- the<br />
abbreviation is "CLITORIS."<br />
LISTER: Look, it needs killing! If that means I have to<br />
sacrifice my life in some stupid pointless way, then<br />
all the better!<br />
KRYTEN: Yes! Why not? I mean, even if it doesn't<br />
work, it'll still be a laugh!<br />
LISTER: Right, so let's just cut all of this business and<br />
get on with it! Last one alive's a wet ponce. Who's<br />
with me?<br />
RIMMER: Well, the car stickers aren't ready until<br />
Thursday, but sometimes one just has to act<br />
spontaneously. People, let's go.<br />
CAT: Hey, I'm coming, too. Maybe I can bum some<br />
money off him.<br />
KRYTEN: Maybe if I hand you guys over, it'll let me go.<br />
MOVE IT, SUCKERS!<br />
CARGO BAY.<br />
LISTER: Come on, you chicken. Show us your slobbery<br />
chops, and we'll blow them off.<br />
KRYTEN: Here they are -- nice juicy humans! Come and<br />
get them! Here, muty mutant!<br />
BITS OF THE POLYMORPH FALL ON THE FOURSOME, AS THEY<br />
SUDDENLY HAVE REGAINED THEIR LOST EMOTIONS.<br />
CAT: Phewee! What am I wearing?<br />
page 23
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
KRYTEN: Oh, how can you ever forgive me, sirs?<br />
Naturally, I will commit suicide immediately.<br />
LISTER: Hey... We were all a bit whacked out there.<br />
RIMMER: You can say that again.<br />
CAT: Come on -- let's go and clean up. If I don't get into<br />
some co-ordinated evening wear, I'm going to have<br />
to resign my post as Most Handsome Guy on the Ship.<br />
page 24
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
Body Swap<br />
LAB. KRYTEN AND RIMMER ARE HUNCHED OVER A COMPUTER<br />
TERMINAL DISPLAYING A HORRENDOUSLY COMPLEX CIRCUIT<br />
DIAGRAM.<br />
RIMMER: Turn. There's another. Circuit board epsilon<br />
14598, <strong>red</strong> corridor 357.<br />
KRYTEN: Re-routed.<br />
LISTER: What's happening, guys? It's half ten. I thought<br />
we were playing poker.<br />
RIMMER: Where have you been? Didn't you get the<br />
message?<br />
LISTER: What message?<br />
RIMMER: One of the skutters has gone bananas. He's<br />
completely rewi<strong>red</strong> the maintenance decks back to<br />
front and upside down. We've got over two<br />
thousand wiring faults. Don't breath. Don't touch<br />
anything. The whole ship is a gigantic booby trap.<br />
LISTER: No poker then?<br />
RIMMER: We can't find the auto destruct system. It's<br />
wi<strong>red</strong> up to something but we don't know what.<br />
LISTER: It's taken me ages to mark these cards.<br />
CAT: So we can't touch anything?<br />
LISTER: Nothing electrical. Not until we get the all<br />
clear.<br />
CAT: How long is that going to take?<br />
LISTER: God knows.<br />
LISTER APPROACHES THE VENDING MACHINE.<br />
LISTER: Milk shake and a crispy bar. We were just playing<br />
poker tonight. That's gone for a burn.<br />
AUTO DESTRUCT: Auto destruct sequence initiated.<br />
Initiated destruction in 15 minutes. 14 minutes, 55<br />
seconds and counting.<br />
CAT: That's a very dumb thing you just did then.<br />
LISTER: I know. I wasn't thinking.<br />
AUTO DESTRUCT: Red Dwarf will self destruct in 14<br />
minutes and 50 seconds. Abandon ship. You have 13<br />
minutes and 45 seconds to detonation.<br />
page 25
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
CONTROL ROOM.<br />
RIMMER: I said, "Touch nothing." Didn't I say, "Touch<br />
nothing?"<br />
LISTER: Look, I just orde<strong>red</strong> a shake and a crispy bar.<br />
CAT: You're lucky you didn't order a double cheese<br />
burger!<br />
AUTO DESTRUCT: Eight minutes, 20 seconds and counting.<br />
LISTER: How do we switch it off?<br />
HOLLY: The only person who can override the<br />
autodestruct is the captain.<br />
RIMMER: Dead.<br />
HOLLY: Or one of the senior officers.<br />
RIMMER: Dead.<br />
HOLLY: In many ways I should have updated the<br />
system really.<br />
LISTER: Is there any way that we can trick the<br />
machine into thinking one of us is the captain?<br />
HOLLY: No. It checks his voice and brain scan against<br />
its databanks.<br />
AUTO DESTRUCT: Auto destruct in 8 minutes, 10 seconds<br />
and counting.<br />
RIMMER: Think of something please. You are<br />
supposed to have an IQ of 6000. Think of<br />
something.<br />
HOLLY: I've been through the whole of my database,<br />
collated every single option, and there are <strong>three</strong><br />
realistic alternatives. One: sit here and get blown up.<br />
Two: Stand here and get blown up. Three: Jump up and<br />
down, shout at me for not being able to think of<br />
anything, then get blown up.<br />
LISTER: There must be something.<br />
KRYTEN: Perhaps we could try a mind swap?<br />
LAB. LISTER IS TIED DOWN TO A CHAIR<br />
KRYTEN: It's something we tried once on the Nova 5. It<br />
uses exactly the same science as generating a<br />
hologram. We wipe all your brain patterns and put<br />
them on a storage disk. Then we transfer the<br />
captaings mind from his hologram personality disk into<br />
your empty brain.<br />
LISTER: And you tried this on the Nova 5?<br />
KRYTEN: Oh yes.<br />
page 26
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
LISTER: Did it work?<br />
KRYTEN: No. But I'm pretty sure I know what went<br />
wrong.<br />
AUTO DESTRUCT: 4 minutes to self destruct and counting.<br />
LISTER: So the captaings mind will be in my body?<br />
KRYTEN: Yes. Then, hopefully, the self destruct will<br />
think you're are the captain, and you can activate the<br />
override.<br />
LISTER: But where will my mind be?<br />
KRYTEN: (holding up a very small cassette tape) On this.<br />
AUTO DESTRUCT: 3 minutes, 50 seconds and counting.<br />
RIMMER AND CAT ENTER THE ROOM.<br />
RIMMER: We couldn't find the captaings disk, but what<br />
about Brown? Brown was executive officer.<br />
HOLLY: Yeah. Brown's got clearance.<br />
LISTER: (seeing a large needle) Kryten, what's that for?<br />
KRYTEN: It's a mental emetic.<br />
LISTER: A what?<br />
KRYTEN: A mind enema -- so we can flush out your<br />
brain.<br />
LISTER: Nobody's flushing out my brain.<br />
KRYTEN: We'll transfer it back afterwards.<br />
LISTER: You are not sticking that thing in my head.<br />
AUTO DESTRUCT: One minute and 40 seconds and<br />
counting.<br />
RIMMER: We've got to. It's our only chance.<br />
LISTER: Smeg off!<br />
CAT: Look man, I'm not asking you to do this just for me.<br />
I'm asking, pleading with you, I'm begging ya -- do it<br />
for the sake of my suits. Are you just gonna stand<br />
by and let my scarlet PVC morning suit with the<br />
imitation king penguin fur collars get blown to<br />
smithereens? Could you live with yourself?<br />
AUTO DESTRUCT: I minute, 30 seconds and counting.<br />
RIMMER: Look, Lister. I agree, it's a stupid idea. It almost<br />
certainly won't work. But the very worst that can<br />
happen -- the absolute bottom line -- is that you'll<br />
have to spend the rest of your life as a mindless<br />
gibbering vegetable. But if the rest of your life is going<br />
to be thirty seconds, what the hell!<br />
LISTER: Do it.<br />
KRYTEN: Keep that safe -- it's Lister's mind.<br />
KRYTEN BEGINS TO PLACE BROWN'S MIND INTO LISTER.<br />
page 27
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
AUTO DESTRUCT: 55 seconds to detonation<br />
BROWN: What's happening? What the hell is going<br />
on?<br />
RIMMER: Sir. There is no time to explain, but, by a<br />
bizarre series of accidents the ship auto destruct<br />
system has got switched on and we need you to<br />
deactivate it.<br />
BROWN: Something's wrong. Something feels different.<br />
Wait a minute, I never used to be a man!<br />
RIMMER: Look, you stupid women, we'll explain later.<br />
BROWN: Why have I got male sexual organs?<br />
RIMMER: If we don't override the autodestruct system<br />
within the next 20 seconds those male sexual organs<br />
will be in orbit around the nearest planet. Along with<br />
everyone else's organs sexual or otherwise.<br />
AUTO DESTRUCT: 15 seconds to detonation.<br />
BROWN: Abort sequence X1X.<br />
AUTO DESTRUCT: Identify.<br />
BROWN: Carol Brown, executive officer, security<br />
clearance 010101.<br />
AUTO DESTRUCT: Pause for verification. Verification<br />
rejected. Abort denied. Auto destruct sequence<br />
continued. Detonation in 5 seconds.<br />
RIMMER: Sen-smegging-sational<br />
CAT: Well done, sphinx face.<br />
RIMMER: What a brilliant, brilliant plan.<br />
CAT: Just great.<br />
AUTO DESTRUCT: 1. Initiate self destruct.<br />
THE DISPENSING MACHINE SHOOTS OUT A MILK SHAKE AND A<br />
CRISPY BAR.<br />
AUTO DESTRUCT: Thank you for using the auto-serve<br />
dispensing machines. Number one in quality. Number<br />
one in taste.<br />
CAT: What happened?<br />
KRYTEN: It must have been wi<strong>red</strong> up to the warning<br />
system but not the bomb.<br />
RIMMER: So where's the bomb?<br />
HOLLY: We haven't got a bomb. I got rid of it ages ago.<br />
CAT: Why didn't you say?<br />
HOLLY: You never asked.<br />
CAT: Fine, terrific. (to Kryten) But remember this: you're<br />
getting my underwear bill, buddy.<br />
page 28
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
SLEEPING QUARTERS.<br />
RIMMER: You awake?<br />
LISTER: Yeah -- can't sleep.<br />
RIMMER: Probably those kippers you had for supper.<br />
LISTER: Nothing wrong with kippers for supper.<br />
RIMMER: But kippers vindaloo? Can't be good for you. I<br />
mean, a curry every night? That cannot be good for<br />
you. Certainly no good for me. I'm thinking of<br />
getting a canary in a cage.<br />
LISTER: Why?<br />
RIMMER: To check out the room, see if it is safe to<br />
use.<br />
LISTER: C'mon, it's not that bad!<br />
RIMMER: Not that bad? You don't sweat sweat, you<br />
sweat madras sauce.<br />
LISTER: Why all the sudden interest in my diet?<br />
RIMMER: It's not just your diet, Lister. It's your health in<br />
general. Face facts: you eat crap, you don't<br />
exercise, you smoke, you drink, and frankly, it's<br />
beginning to show. You're getting porky. Last week<br />
when there was that lights failure in the engine room,<br />
your silhouette was cast onto the wall. I got the<br />
fright of my life. I thought it was Alf<strong>red</strong> Hitchcock.<br />
LISTER: Are you saying I've got a gut?<br />
RIMMER: You have got more gut that a Turkish butcher’s<br />
shop window.<br />
LISTER: Hang on, no really. Do you think I've put on<br />
weight?<br />
RIMMER: You've reached that age, Listy. When you're<br />
younger you can eat what you like, drink what you like<br />
and still climb into your 26 inch waist trousers and zip<br />
them closed. Then you reach that age -- 24, 25 -- your<br />
muscles give up, they wave a little white flag and then<br />
without any warning at all, you're suddenly a fat<br />
bastard.<br />
LISTER: I'm not fat -- I'm porky!<br />
RIMMER: Have you ever in dissection class held up a<br />
frog by its head? You know the way its belly sort of<br />
sticks out above its spindly little legs? Well, that's the<br />
picture I see when you get down from the bunk in the<br />
morning.<br />
LISTER: Yeah, maybe you're right. Yeah, I'm gonna start<br />
working out in the gym.<br />
RIMMER: Of course, you could always ... no you'd never<br />
agree to it.<br />
page 29
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
LISTER: What?<br />
RIMMER: We could do a swap: my mind in your body,<br />
yours in mine. You saw how easy it was with Brown.<br />
Lend me your body for a few weeks and I'll get it fit<br />
for you. Plenty of exercise, sensible diet, no more<br />
booze, no more ciggies. It'll be like a 12 thousand mile<br />
service for your body.<br />
LISTER: What, and in the meantime I'm a hologram?<br />
RIMMER: It won't be too bad if it's only for a couple of<br />
weeks.<br />
LISTER: You're talking as if it were a pare of hedge<br />
trimmers or a lawn mower or something.<br />
RIMMER: I'd give it back, I'd return it intact. More than<br />
intact, it'd be fitter.<br />
LISTER: Look, Rimmer, you are not having possession<br />
of my body.<br />
RIMMER: What are you worried about? How can I<br />
treat it any worse than you do? You admit you don't<br />
look after it, don't exercise it, don't feed it properly.<br />
I would. What do you say?<br />
LISTER: No welching.<br />
RIMMER: Of course not.<br />
LISTER: A fortnight.<br />
RIMMER: 14 days.<br />
LISTER: Two weeks.<br />
RIMMER: Absolutely doodley.<br />
LATER, IN SHOWER ROOM.<br />
RIMMER: What's this under his nails? Oh my god! I'm<br />
going to have this dirt carbon-dated.<br />
SLEEPING QUARTERS.<br />
KRYTEN: Luncheon, sir.<br />
RIMMER: Food. Real food. To eat, perchance to taste.<br />
KRYTEN: It's exactly as you orde<strong>red</strong>, sir: the lightly<br />
poached mimmion bladder fish, the 4 dozen oysters,<br />
the ducks feet in abalone sauce...<br />
RIMMER: I can touch; I can taste; I can smell!<br />
KRYTEN: Roast suckling pig stuffed with chestnuts and<br />
truffles. Mashed potato.<br />
RIMMER: With cream and butter?<br />
KRYTEN: A pint of cream and a full pound of butter, sir.<br />
RIMMER: Let the orgy begin.<br />
page 30
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
SLEEPING QUARTERS.<br />
RIMMER: I think I went temporarily insane. It was just<br />
too much. I haven't tasted food in 3 million and 2<br />
years. All that food. I was like an animal.<br />
LISTER: I want my body back. Now!<br />
RIMMER: Oh look, it won't happen again. It was just<br />
something I had to get out of my system.<br />
LISTER: MY system. Why are you smoking?<br />
RIMMER: One cigar!<br />
LISTER: You are supposed to be getting me fit.<br />
RIMMER: I'll start tomorrow.<br />
LISTER: You better bleeding do.<br />
CORRIDOR. DAY.<br />
CAT: Hey! What are you doing dressed like that? Why do<br />
you want to look like Goalpost Head? Have you<br />
flipped? You want to model yourself on a man who<br />
has ears so large that they can pick up satellite TV?<br />
What do you want to look like the smeg-head Rimmer<br />
for?!<br />
RIMMER: Because... I am that smeg head Rimmer.<br />
LARGE SPA BATH. RIMMER IS READING A MUSCLE MAGAZINE.<br />
RIMMER: Please. These are meant to be women? Ahhh.<br />
This is what I call training.<br />
SLEEPING QUARTERS. CAT HAS HIS BACK TO US AND HIS HAIR<br />
IS UNTIED. THEY ARE PLAYING SCRABBLE.<br />
LISTER: That letter, that letter, and that letter. There.<br />
CAT: Hey! I've got you now! Jozxyqk.<br />
LISTER: That's not a word.<br />
CAT: It's a cat word.<br />
Lister attempts to pronounces the cat "word."<br />
CAT: That's not how you pronounce it!<br />
LISTER: What does it mean?<br />
CAT: It's the sound you get when you get your sexual<br />
organs trapped in something<br />
LISTER: Is it in the dictionary?<br />
CAT: Well, it could be. If you were reading in the nude<br />
and you closed the book too quickly.<br />
RIMMER: What a session! What a work-out! No pain,<br />
no gain, Listy.<br />
page 31
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
LISTER: On the scales! I want to weigh you.<br />
RIMMER: There's no need. Look at that stomach. Flat<br />
as a pancake. Hasn't been like that in years!<br />
LISTER: On the scales. You've put on two stone!<br />
RIMMER: Of course I've put on two stone. I've been<br />
taking yeast extract, building up your body.<br />
LISTER: Take the robe off.<br />
RIMMER: What for? I don't want you looking at my<br />
naked body.<br />
LISTER: It's not YOUR naked body, it's mine!<br />
CAT: What's he hiding?<br />
LISTER: Off with the robe.<br />
RIMMER: Let me just say this--oh this. This is a hernia<br />
prevention belt. I must have forgotten to take it off.<br />
LISTER: It's a girdle.<br />
RIMMER: Of course it isn't.<br />
LISTER: Then why has it got little dangly things for<br />
holding up stockings?<br />
RIMMER: They are for attaching extra weights to you<br />
so you can get fit just as you walk around.<br />
LISTER: I want my body back now.<br />
RIMMER: Look, OK. I went a bit bananas the first<br />
few days, but I promise you that's all over now.<br />
Don't you see? It's in my interest to get you into<br />
shape. This could become a regular thing: fourteen<br />
days a year I could have your body. In fact, next year,<br />
if it's convenient, I would like to book the last two<br />
weeks of July.<br />
LISTER: I want it back.<br />
RIMMER: One last chance?<br />
LISTER: No more troffing.<br />
RIMMER: I promise.<br />
LISTER: And take that girdle off. It doesn't suit me.<br />
SLEEPING QUARTERS. NIGHT. LISTER JUMPS OFF BED AND<br />
FINDS RIMMER SITTING UP IN BED WITH A BLANKET OVER HIS<br />
HEAD.<br />
LISTER: Right, that's it! I'm completely sick of it.<br />
RIMMER: What is it?<br />
LISTER: You've been porking again, haven't ya?<br />
RIMMER: I have not!<br />
LISTER: I want my body back, now.<br />
RIMMER: But I've only had it a week!<br />
page 32
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
LISTER: This was not the deal. You've welched on it.<br />
And what's this in the bin? My locks! My locks are in<br />
the bin. I thought you said you pinned 'em up?<br />
RIMMER: I did but they ... fell off.<br />
LISTER: Fell off? Science lab, now!<br />
RIMMER: But it's the middle of the night. Kryten is on<br />
down time.<br />
LISTER: Now!<br />
SLEEPING QUARTERS. LATER. THE GUYS ENTER THEIR ROOM<br />
AS THEMSELVES AGAIN.<br />
LISTER: How many cigars did you get through, Rimmer?<br />
My lungs feel as if they have been through a cheese<br />
grater.<br />
RIMMER: You've got your body back. Leave me alone.<br />
LISTER: I only have a couple of rolly's a day. It feels as if<br />
you've smoked an entire Cuban tobacco harvest.<br />
RIMMER: I had the odd one.<br />
LISTER: You've no respect, that's what. You've shown<br />
my body no respect whatsoever. You've treated it<br />
like smeg. Look, you've given me breasts. There's a<br />
distinct cleavage there. I give you my body and you've<br />
given me a bosom.<br />
LISTER WALKS OVER TO THE SCALES.<br />
LISTER: These scales are wrong. These scales have to be<br />
wrong.<br />
RIMMER: It's average for your height.<br />
LISTER: Rimmer, it would be average for my height if I<br />
happened to be a pregnant hippo.<br />
RIMMER: Well you weren't exactly Charles Atlas to<br />
start with, were you?<br />
LISTER: And you haven't been treating my athlete's<br />
foot, have you?<br />
RIMMER: Well, quite frankly I was afraid of touching<br />
it.<br />
LISTER: I told you, you have to wash and powder my feet<br />
<strong>three</strong> times a day. Plus a good buffing with a pumice<br />
stone.<br />
RIMMER: I wasn't prepa<strong>red</strong> to touch those things <strong>three</strong><br />
time a day. To tell you the truth I was only brave<br />
enough to take your socks off once.<br />
LISTER: Look at my stomach. Look at it! Pink gudgeon<br />
stripes down my sides and you could float me over<br />
the super bowl.<br />
page 33
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
RIMMER: Look, I refuse to take the rap for that body.<br />
All right, I added a few pounds to its already ample<br />
frame but it was, let's face it, a wreck before I got<br />
anywhere near it. If it was a car you would be an<br />
insurance write-off. Nothing works. Your taste<br />
buds are totally clapped out, you've killed them<br />
stone dead with 25 years of non-stop curries. And<br />
what about all the aches and pains you never<br />
mention, twinges in your back, crimps in your neck?<br />
Oh, and I'll give you a little tip: urine should only be<br />
green if you're Mister Spock.<br />
LISTER: That's the last time you borrow it, that's for<br />
goddam sure.<br />
RIMMER: What about next year? We had an agreement --<br />
the last two weeks in July and the weekend before<br />
Christmas.<br />
LISTER: What for, Rimmer? It's a wreck.<br />
RIMMER: Unfortunately it's the best that's available. If you<br />
can't get two weeks in the Carribean then Grimsby<br />
is better than nothing. You can't back out now, you<br />
said I could have it.<br />
LISTER: I only said that to get it back. Do you think I am<br />
raving mad? You are never, ever, ever borrowing my<br />
body again. Never.<br />
RIMMER: Get some sleep. You'll feel different in the<br />
morning.<br />
CORRIDOR. KRYTEN IS PUSHING A TROLLEY WITH AN<br />
UNCONSIOUS LISTER ON IT.<br />
KRYTEN: I am really not sure about this.<br />
RIMMER: Look, you're programmed to obey -- get on<br />
with it.<br />
KRYTEN: But surely we should ask him first?<br />
RIMMER: I told you, he's agreed. He's perfectly happy<br />
about the situation.<br />
KRYTEN: Well then, why did you make me chloroform<br />
him and why did he struggle so?<br />
RIMMER: Look, I'm in charge, Kryten. I'll take full<br />
responsibility. Science lab, pronto! If he comes<br />
around give him another whack.<br />
SLEEPING QUARTERS. MORNING.<br />
LISTER: Are you awake, man? Rimmer? No please. No!<br />
Play message.<br />
page 34
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
RIMMER: Hi! It's me. I told you you'd feel different in<br />
the morning. Thing is, this week has been absolute<br />
heaven for me and I couldn't just stand by and let<br />
you take your body back. That's why I've taken Starbug<br />
and done a runner. Don't worry, in a month or<br />
so I'll come back and return it. Just a month, maybe six<br />
weeks but don't try and follow me, otherwise... the<br />
body gets it.<br />
LISTER: Cat. Cat!<br />
SOME OTHER PART OF THE SHIP.<br />
CAT: You want my WHAT?<br />
LISTER: It'll only take a couple of hours.<br />
CAT: You want to take MY body?<br />
LISTER: I need your body to get MY body back.<br />
CAT: You've already lost one body. Come on, in all<br />
seriousness, you really expect me to lend you<br />
mine?<br />
LISTER: I'm a hologram. How else am I supposed to<br />
chase him? I need your body.<br />
CAT: Let me ask you one question. Would you let a<br />
garbage truck driver use your Rolls Royce?<br />
LISTER: How else can I pilot White Midget?<br />
CAT: I'll do it!<br />
STARBUG COCKPIT. RIMMER OPENS A TRUNK LOAD FILLED<br />
WITH DONUTS. LISTER APPEARS ON THE MONITOR.<br />
LISTER: Rimmer! It's no use running, man, we've got<br />
you in visual range. Turn around and head back to the<br />
ship.<br />
RIMMER: I told you not to follow me. Leave me alone<br />
or you-know-what happens.<br />
CAT: He's bluffing.<br />
LISTER: I think he means it man. He's flipped -- it<br />
must be cream cake poisoning.<br />
CAT: He's bluffing. I'm going in after him.<br />
KRYTEN: He must be bluffing.<br />
LISTER: Say he isn't, man?<br />
CAT: It's gastronomic terrorism! We can't stand by and<br />
let it happen.<br />
RIMMER: Go ahead punks. Make my day.<br />
LISTER: You're right. He's bluffing.<br />
RIMMER: Smeg!<br />
page 35
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
CAT: Let's get him.<br />
LISTER: This is getting stupid. Back off -- let him go.<br />
CAT: We're almost on him.<br />
LISTER: It's too dangerous. Let him go.<br />
RIMMER: Ha! Ha! Ha! Chickens. Ha ...<br />
STARBUG HITS A ROCKY OUTCROP AND THE SLAMS INTO THE<br />
GROUND ON THE OTHER SIDE.<br />
LISTER: Oh smeg! What the smegging smeg's he smegging<br />
done? He's smegging killed me!<br />
STARBUG REAR SECTION. LISTER, CAT AND KRYTEN ENTER.<br />
RIMMER: Whoops!<br />
LISTER: Are you all right?<br />
RIMMER: You're going to go spare. You're going to go<br />
absolutely spare.<br />
LISTER: You've lost my arm.<br />
RIMMER: I've lost your watch too.<br />
LISTER: You Bastard!<br />
SLEEPING QUARTERS.<br />
LISTER: Oh, Hello. It's captain chloroform.<br />
KRYTEN: Oh please. My guilt chips is already in<br />
overdrive. I feel terrible!<br />
LISTER: You feel terrible? How about my smegging<br />
head?<br />
KRYTEN: I had to obey him. It's in my programming to<br />
obey all humans. No matter how insane. Dinner is<br />
served, sir.<br />
LISTER: Lettuce and a grated carrot. I'm on this for six<br />
months.<br />
RIMMER'S BODY ENTERS THE ROOM LOOKING VERY STIFF.<br />
LISTER: What's wrong with you? You look like you've<br />
seen a ghost.<br />
CAT: I was asleep, OK? Next thing I know plastic<br />
Percy here puts a sponge on my face and out go the<br />
lights.<br />
KRYTEN: It was an order.<br />
RIMMER: Just one night, I promise. I'll give it back first<br />
thing tomorrow. Maybe Thursday.<br />
page 36
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
Timeslides<br />
A ROOM IN RED DWARF. A TABLE GOLF SET.<br />
CAT: Yay! Four up, with six to play! This guy is hot,<br />
hot, HOT! Okay, hole 13.<br />
LISTER: What am I doing? What am I doing here?<br />
CAT: You're not following through is what you're<br />
doing! Keep your head down and follow through!<br />
LISTER: Why am I playing this?<br />
CAT: Because it's Sunday! Time to relax, time to chill!<br />
Lighten up!<br />
LISTER: I can't lighten up! I hate my life! We seem to<br />
spend every day devising more and more ingenious<br />
ways of wasting time. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of table<br />
golf, I'm sick of tiddlywinks show jumping! I'm sick of<br />
stretching a pair of tights across the room and playing<br />
durex volleyball!<br />
CAT: If you like, we'll kick the golf on the head, okay?<br />
How about a game of Junior Angler? All the thrills<br />
and spills of fresh water fly fishing from the comfort<br />
of your own living room!<br />
LISTER: No!<br />
CAT: Got it! Unicycle Polo! We could have a quick<br />
chucker on floor 14!<br />
LISTER: It's smegging stupid! Two grown men on<br />
unicycles, belting a beach ball up and down the<br />
corridor, with french loaves! It's pathetic. It's idiotic.<br />
It's puerile!<br />
CAT: Well, you invented it!<br />
LISTER: I want a life! This, it's worse than prison! I mean,<br />
at least in prison you can look forward to getting<br />
out. I want to live. I want a job. I want to meet people.<br />
I want to meet girls. I want to make love!<br />
CAT: Well, Junior Angler is the best you're gonna get out<br />
of me, baby!<br />
LISTER: Just get out of my face.<br />
CAT: Okay, but don't come running to me next time<br />
you want someone to play soapsud slalom down the<br />
cargo ramp. You can carry your own damn flags!<br />
page 37
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
SLEEPING QUARTERS.<br />
RIMMER: Lovely service, Lister! You should have come<br />
-- most uplifting! What's wrong with you? Ah, it's<br />
November! Nearly time for your bath!<br />
LISTER: Please just spare me the good mood? I just can't<br />
handle it right now. OK?<br />
RIMMER: What happened to you?<br />
LISTER: I'm sick of it, that's what. I'm just totally, totally<br />
sick of it.<br />
RIMMER: Sick of what?<br />
LISTER: I'm sick of you and your silly green suits, I'm sick<br />
of your stupid fla<strong>red</strong> nostrils. I'm sick of the way you<br />
always smile when you're being insulted. I'm sick of<br />
the Cat. I'm sick of Holly. I'm sick of you. I'm sick of<br />
me. And as for Kryten ... I'm sick of him. I'm sick of this<br />
ship, sick of this life. I'm just sick of it.<br />
RIMMER: You're unhappy, aren't you?<br />
LISTER: Joining the Space Corps -- that's when it all<br />
went wrong. If I didn't join up things could really<br />
have worked out for me.<br />
RIMMER: That's a tension sheet, isn't it? I went to school<br />
with the guy who invented tension sheets. Things<br />
certainly worked out for him all right. A millionaire at<br />
twenty-six! F<strong>red</strong> Holden -- he was in our dorm. God,<br />
he was thick. Thickie Holden, we used to call him:<br />
"Hello, Thickie! How's your acne, Thickie?" He always<br />
used to come bottom in geography. He thought a<br />
glacier was a bloke who fixed windows.<br />
LISTER: He can't have been that dense? I mean, he<br />
invented the tension sheet?<br />
RIMMER: It's just the stuff they used to use in packing<br />
paper. All he did was to paint it <strong>red</strong> and cut it into<br />
small squares. And you know who he married --<br />
Sabrina Mulholland-Jones.<br />
LISTER: The model?<br />
RIMMER: How can that be? The most desirable<br />
woman in the western hemisphere and Thickie Holden,<br />
a spotty little gimp who used to blow off the bedcovers<br />
every time we had cauliflower cheese!<br />
LISTER: He had a break. He got lucky.<br />
RIMMER: I suppose so. Did you go to school with<br />
anyone famous?<br />
LISTER: Charles Keenan. He was pretty famous.<br />
RIMMER: What did he do?<br />
LISTER: Ate his wife.<br />
page 38
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
KRYTEN: Sorry to interrupt, sirs, but I think you<br />
should come down to the photo-lab. Something quite<br />
strange is happening.<br />
PHOTO LAB. LISTER, CAT, RIMMER, AND KRYTEN ARE<br />
EXAMINING STRANGELY ANIMATED PHOTOS.<br />
LISTER: These are just ordinary photographs. What did<br />
you do to them?<br />
KRYTEN: I just developed the film as usual, and for<br />
some reason they came to life.<br />
HOLLY: It's the developing fluid. It must have mutated.<br />
KRYTEN: At first I thought it was just my roll of film, but<br />
it seems to work on any negative. There's some<br />
others here I've developed as slides.<br />
LISTER: Go for it.<br />
RIMMER: That's Frank! That's my brother's wedding!<br />
LISTER: Yo, I'm in the photograph!<br />
FRANK: Excuse me, could you stand aside, please?<br />
We're trying to take a photograph.<br />
LISTER: I'm actually IN the photograph!<br />
FRANK: Excuse me, you're blocking the shot.<br />
LISTER: I'm actually here! I'm at a smegging wedding!<br />
FRANK: Listen, son, are you trying to make trouble?<br />
LISTER: Wow, man! I'm back on Earth! I'm in a<br />
photograph!<br />
FRANK: Look, will you just clear off?!<br />
LISTER: Look! He can touch me! He can touch me! Oof!<br />
He can actually punch me! This is brilliant! Punch me<br />
again! Fantastic! Oof! Alright, alright, I'm going! I can't<br />
walk out of the edge of the photograph! In-smeggingc<strong>red</strong>ible!<br />
RIMMER: Try another one.<br />
KRYTEN PUTS ON ANOTHER SLIDE. IT SHOWS TWO PEOPLE IN<br />
SKI WEAR POSING FOR A PHOTO ON TOP OF A MOUNTAIN.<br />
CAT: What's this?<br />
KRYTEN: It's one of Lister's.<br />
LISTER: I don't recognise this.<br />
RIMMER: Who are they?<br />
LISTER: I don't know. Oh yeah, I remember. I sent away<br />
some snaps of my eighteenth birthday and got<br />
someone's skiing holiday back instead.<br />
LISTER & RIMMER ENTER THE SLIDE.<br />
RIMMER: It's amazing. We're really here!<br />
page 39
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
LISTER: I know. Check this!<br />
KRYTEN: It even works in black and white. I tried it<br />
with a really old one, too.<br />
RIMMER: That's Nuremberg! That's Adolf Hitler. He was<br />
leader of the runners-up in World War II.<br />
KRYTEN: I cut the photograph out of one of your<br />
magazines.<br />
RIMMER: Which magazine was that?<br />
KRYTEN: Fascist Dictator Monthly. He was Mr. October.<br />
LISTER IS STANDING BESIDE THE LITTLE FASCIST AS HE MAKES<br />
HIS SPEECH.<br />
LISTER: Ignore him! He's a complete and total<br />
nutter! And he's only got one testicle!<br />
RIMMER: What's he doing now? He's scuffling with<br />
Adolf Hitler! You can't just stick one on the leader<br />
of the Third Reich!<br />
LISTER: I nicked his briefcase! Banana and crisps? His<br />
diary!<br />
KRYTEN: Allow me. I'll switch to "translation mode."<br />
"Things to remember: Stop milk, pay papers, invade<br />
Czechoslovakia."<br />
LISTER HAS PULLED OUT A BOX WRAPPED IN BROWN PAPER<br />
AND TIED WITH STRING.<br />
LISTER: A present here. "To Adolf, Love & hugs, Staff<br />
Colonel Von Stauffenberg."<br />
RIMMER: That rings a bell... Von Stauffenberg, he's<br />
famous for something... Wait a minute, he's the<br />
officer who tried to assassinate Hitler by putting a<br />
bomb in his briefcase!" How could I forget that?<br />
KRYTEN, CAT, RIMMER, AND HOLLY DIVE FOR COVER.<br />
HEADLINE: "HITLER ESCAPES BOMBING AT<br />
NUREMBERG"<br />
LISTER: Yes! I don't believe this. We've got ourselves<br />
a smegging time machine!<br />
RIMMER: So we can go anywhere we want, absolutely<br />
anywhere?<br />
KRYTEN: Providing we have a photograph of it.<br />
RIMMER: So if one of us had, say, a photograph of a<br />
female-only naturist beach in Acapulco full of<br />
bronzed, naked, uninhibited teenage temptresses, we<br />
could go there for a holiday?<br />
KRYTEN: I suppose.<br />
RIMMER: Kryten, get my photo album.<br />
page 40
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
LISTER: Hang on. The thing is, we can't move outside<br />
the confines of the photograph. What we see is all<br />
we get.<br />
CAT: Meaning?<br />
LISTER: Meaning we can't get a picture of Earth and go<br />
back there, we wouldn't be able to move outside<br />
the frame of the photograph.<br />
RIMMER: Believe me, this beach shot in Acapulco, you<br />
wouldn't want to move outside the photograph!<br />
CAT: So it's useless, then?<br />
RIMMER: No, not entirely useless. Think of the famous<br />
people we could meet, the famous places we could<br />
go.<br />
KRYTEN: We could go back to Dallas, in November<br />
1963, stand on the grassy knoll and shout "Duck!" Oh,<br />
I'm sorry, I must have bypassed my "Good Taste"<br />
chip!<br />
RIMMER: The possibilities are enormous! They're<br />
mind-numbing! We could go back in time and avert<br />
major disasters!<br />
LISTER: What, you mean like persuade Dustin Hoffman<br />
not to make Ishtar?<br />
HOLLY: What about determinism, then? What about<br />
causality? You can't just mess about with history!<br />
LISTER: We'll just do something small.<br />
HOLLY: There's no such thing as "small" when you're<br />
talking about changing time!<br />
LISTER: I'm only talking about changing things so that I<br />
don't get marooned in space.<br />
RIMMER: Such as?<br />
LISTER: If I can go back and fix things so that I don't<br />
join the Space Corps, don't sign up with Red Dwarf,<br />
I can create an alternate existence, a NORMAL<br />
existence, back on Earth. I won't be stuck with your<br />
ugly mush for the next 3 million years.<br />
PHOTO LAB. KRYTEN PUTS ON THE SLIDE. IT SHOWS A TWO-<br />
BIT INDIE ROCK BAND PLAYING IN AN ENGLISH PUB.<br />
CAT: What is this? Who is that jerk?<br />
LISTER: It's me. Aged 17. That's my first band, Smeg and<br />
The Heads.<br />
CAT: What are you wearing?<br />
LISTER: It was all the rage. It's what everyone was<br />
wearing. It was called "Sham Glam."<br />
page 41
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
CAT: Look at that collar! You could go hang-gliding!<br />
LISTER: We used to think we were so cool. Come on!<br />
One of the first songs I ever wrote. It was called "Om".<br />
RIMMER: Nothing like a good old-fashioned love<br />
song, eh?<br />
LISTER: And to think I genuinely thought we were<br />
gonna be massive. God, I was stupid.<br />
RIMMER: Who are the other two?<br />
LISTER: The whacked-out, crazy, hippy drummer's<br />
called Dobbin. He joined the police force in the<br />
end. Became a grand wizard in the Freemasons. The<br />
bass is called Gazza. He was a neo-marxist, nihilistic,<br />
anarchist. Eventually joined a large insurance company<br />
and got his own parking space.<br />
YOUNG LISTER: Yeah! Rock and Roll! Thank you, thank<br />
you very much! And for those of you who are<br />
interested, there are official "Smeg and The Heads"<br />
T-shirts, and some signed polaroids of the band<br />
currently on sale in the back of Dobbings car. It's the<br />
orange Ford in the car park, the one with bald tires<br />
and no windscreen. Well, we'll be back in 20 minutes<br />
to play you our second set so from me, Smeg, and<br />
from Dobbin and Gazza, The Heads, I'll see you later.<br />
LISTER: I'll catch you guys later.<br />
KRYTEN: What is this place?<br />
RIMMER: It's a pub.<br />
KRYTEN: A "pub?" Ah yes, a meeting place where people<br />
attempt to achieve advanced states of mental<br />
incompetence by the repeated consumption of<br />
fermented vegetable drinks.<br />
LISTER: Guys, guys. I'd like you to meet me, aged 17.<br />
YOUNG LISTER: Shay-dee! This is totally shady! It's beyond<br />
shady -- it's surreal! These your mates, then?<br />
LISTER: Yeah. This is Cat, Kryten, and... Rimmer.<br />
YOUNG LISTER: Brilliant tattoo, man! What's it stand for?<br />
Heavy Metal?<br />
RIMMER: Yes, indeed.<br />
YOUNG LISTER: (spotting Kryten) Hey, what happened to<br />
him? His face -- it's grotesque, isn't it? Has he had an<br />
accident? He looks like he spent <strong>three</strong> weeks with his<br />
head jammed in a lift! It's totally shady!<br />
LISTER: Look, sit down and shut up!<br />
YOUNG LISTER: So how did you get here, what d'you<br />
want?<br />
LISTER: I've come to try and change your future.<br />
page 42
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
YOUNG LISTER: Change it? Aren't you happy being a rock<br />
star? Is the constant demand of them groupies<br />
getting you down?<br />
LISTER: You don't make it as a rock star.<br />
YOUNG LISTER: That's impossible! It cannot be!<br />
LISTER: How can I say this without giving offense? You<br />
don't make it 'cos... you're crap.<br />
YOUNG LISTER: Oh, and how would you know, grandad?<br />
You're too old to receive what we're trying to<br />
transmit!<br />
LISTER: I'm you, you dork!<br />
YOUNG LISTER: Too old and too crypto-fascist.<br />
LISTER: Look, will you shut up and listen? I'm trying to<br />
make you rich. All you've got to do is to go down<br />
to the patent office and register this as your invention.<br />
It's called a "tension sheet."<br />
RIMMER: Uh-uh, that's immoral. That's Thickie Holden's<br />
invention. This is just that stuff they use as packing<br />
paper, painted <strong>red</strong> with "tension sheet" painted on<br />
it. It's a piece of crypto-fascist bourgeois crap!<br />
LISTER: It'll make you a multi-multi-multi-millionaire.<br />
YOUNG LISTER: But I'm not into dosh. I hate money, I<br />
loathe possessions -- It's just so... crypto-fascist.<br />
LISTER: Will you stop saying everything's crypto-fascist?<br />
You make me sound like I was a complete git!<br />
YOUNG LISTER: I'm not breaking up the band. Music is<br />
my life.<br />
RIMMER: He's right. You can't make him give up his<br />
music! You heard the Om Song -- it's a masterpiece!<br />
YOUNG LISTER: You see?<br />
LISTER: Back off! I'm trying to give you a break.<br />
CAT: Oh, give up! The guy's an idiot!<br />
LISTER: He's me!<br />
CAT: Exactly!<br />
YOUNG LISTER: I don't want a break. It's my future, I'll<br />
take my own chances, thanks.<br />
LISTER: If you take your own chances, you'll wind up<br />
stuck on a spaceship with 'im, 'im, and 'im. For the rest<br />
of eternity. You won't HAVE a future. You think about<br />
it. C'mon.<br />
RIMMER: You haven't got a copy of the Om Song I can<br />
take back with me, have you?<br />
YOUNG LISTER: Yeah, they're all in the car.<br />
page 43
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
RIMMER: Oh, what a pity. I just can't get it out of my<br />
head. It's just so catchy! "Om!" Keep writing those<br />
hits, kid.<br />
YOUNG LISTER: What a nice guy!<br />
PHOTO LAB.<br />
KRYTEN: What now?<br />
HOLLY: Well, it'll take a few seconds for the timelines<br />
to sort themselves out, and then we'll see if it's<br />
worked.<br />
LISTER: It's happening! I'm disappearing!<br />
RIMMER: What happened?<br />
HOLLY: Well, Lister alte<strong>red</strong> the timelines and lived an<br />
entirely different life. Consequently he didn't join Red<br />
Dwarf. Consequently the Cat Race never existed and<br />
we never rescued Kryten, so they disappea<strong>red</strong> too.<br />
RIMMER: So it's just you and me?<br />
HOLLY: For the rest of eternity.<br />
RIMMER: No thanks. Find him, and bring him back.<br />
LATER.<br />
RIMMER: Anything?<br />
HOLLY: Got 'im.<br />
RIMMER: And?<br />
HOLLY: Tension sheet, Inventor: Dave Lister, aged 17.<br />
Died tragically in a plane crash, aged 98. His own<br />
fault, apparently. He was making love to his<br />
fourteenth wife and he lost control of the plane.<br />
RIMMER: Have you got any photographs?<br />
HOLLY: Not of that, no!<br />
RIMMER: No, I mean so that I can go in and bring him<br />
back.<br />
HOLLY: Well, there is one picture reference, but you're<br />
not going to like it.<br />
RIMMER: Put it on.<br />
A TITLE APPEARS ON THE MONITOR -- LIFESTYLES OF THE<br />
DISGUSTINGLY RICH AND FAMOUS<br />
BLAIZE: Hello, and welcome to Lifestyles of the<br />
Disgustingly Rich and Famous. Tonight we'll be<br />
looking at the world's youngest billionaire, Mr Dave<br />
"Tension Sheet" Lister. Behind me, Mr Lister's English<br />
mansion. He had the whole building transported<br />
brick by brick from half a mile down the road, just<br />
to get away from the neighbors. Now that's the<br />
page 44
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
kind of cash that opens anybody's legs! The gravel in<br />
his drive came from Buckingham Palace. Dave bought<br />
Buck Palace and had it ground down just to line his<br />
drive. This man has a wad so thick you could use it<br />
to beat whales to death. He calls his home "Xanadu",<br />
not in reference to the movie "Citizen Kane", but in<br />
tribute to the hit single by Dave, Dee, Dozy, Beaky,<br />
Mick & Tich. But Dave has musical aspirations of his<br />
own. Only last year his first single, "Om", shot to<br />
number one when he personally purchased <strong>three</strong><br />
million copies. You'll never be short of an ashtray in<br />
his house. Like many people who appear to have<br />
everything, Dave's life has been tinged with tragedy.<br />
Well actually it hasn't, but we can only hope. Now<br />
onto Dr Bob Porkmann, father of the condom that<br />
calls you back.<br />
RIMMER: Freeze. I've seen enough.<br />
HOLLY: What you gonna do?<br />
RIMMER: I'm going in. I'm going in to rescue him. It's my<br />
duty. My duty as a complete and utter bastard!<br />
LISTER'S MANSION.<br />
BUTLER: Mr Lister, sir. What an utter ... delight, it is to<br />
welcome you home.<br />
LISTER: Gilbert, my man. You're looking bad, baby!<br />
In the courtyard is a 50 foot high statue of Lister, in<br />
"toilet position", holding its penis, positioned so that it<br />
can pee into the courtyard fountain.<br />
GILBERT: I am most awfully sorry about the statue,<br />
sir. The contractors still haven't devised a way of<br />
making it urinate champagne into the courtyard,<br />
although I am assu<strong>red</strong> that it will be fully functional<br />
for the royal visit this week.<br />
LISTER: Oh, get outta town! This is gonna slay 'em!<br />
GILBERT: Indeed, sir. I am only just recovering from<br />
the hilarity of the gag myself.<br />
MANSION'S DINING ROOM.<br />
SABRINA: Well, I told daddy today. About us, I mean.<br />
LISTER: And how did the old codger take it?<br />
SABRINA: Not terribly well, actually. He perched<br />
himself on top of his clay pigeon launching machine<br />
and shouted, "Pull!"<br />
page 45
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
GILBERT: For madam, Lobster a la Breche. For sir, a<br />
sausage and onion gravy sandwich on white bread, with<br />
a glass of sterilised milk.<br />
LISTER: Excellent. I used to live on these when I was<br />
in the band.<br />
GILBERT: As requested, sir, it was helicopte<strong>red</strong> in this<br />
morning from Luigi's Fish 'n' Chip Emporium. An artist<br />
beyond comparison, sir. Excuse me, sir, but a<br />
gentleman appears to have appea<strong>red</strong> in the<br />
corner of the room.<br />
RIMMER: Listy, it's me! It's me, Rimmer! Rimmsy; Arnie<br />
Rimmer! Arnie; Old Iron Balls! Rimmer!<br />
GILBERT: Apparently, the gentleman's name is Rimmer,<br />
sir.<br />
LISTER: Have we met?<br />
RIMMER: Have we met? We're like brothers. We were<br />
shipmates. Red Dwarf. You don't remember, do you?<br />
Of course you don't remember, it hasn't happened, has<br />
it?<br />
SABRINA: What hasn't happened?<br />
RIMMER: Sabrina Mulholland-JJones? THE Sabrina<br />
Mulholland-JJones? Model, best-selling novelist and<br />
international jet-setter?<br />
LISTER: Yeah. She's my bird.<br />
RIMMER: "She's my bird?" You talk about the Duke of<br />
Lincoln's eldest daughter as "My bird?!"<br />
LISTER: Gilbert, will you escort Mr. Rummer to the<br />
door?<br />
RIMMER: But, I came here to save you!<br />
LISTER: Throw him out, Gilbert. He's a nutter.<br />
GILBERT: If you would care to step this way, sir?<br />
RIMMER: But we were friends! We were buddies!<br />
GILBERT: Let's not have a scene, sir.<br />
RIMMER: You call this happiness? Surrounded by<br />
toadying lackeys and paid sycophants? Living with a<br />
love-goddess sex-bomb model megastar? You call this<br />
contentment? You know, I stand here now and I look<br />
at the two of us, and I ask one simple question: Who<br />
is the rich man? You, with your fifty-eight houses, your<br />
private island in the Bahamas, your multi-billion pound<br />
business empire; or me, with... with... with what I've<br />
got. It's you, isn't it? Yes it's all very clear to me now.<br />
You -- richer and happier.<br />
GILBERT: This way, sir.<br />
RIMMER: I should have thought a bit harder about<br />
that speech, really. I cocked it up a bit, didn't I?<br />
page 46
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
PHOTO LAB.<br />
HOLLY: Any luck?<br />
RIMMER: Useless. Didn't listen. Didn't even recognise<br />
me. Just thought I was some neurotic deranged<br />
crazy madman.<br />
HOLLY: You sure he didn't recognise you?!<br />
RIMMER: Wait a minute! If Lister can do it, why can't I?<br />
These photographs -- there's one here somewhere of<br />
me at boarding school, aged eight. I can invent the<br />
tension sheet before him. I can get there first!<br />
HOLLY: But then you'll disappear and become<br />
inc<strong>red</strong>ibly wealthy, and Lister will be sent hurtling<br />
back through time.<br />
RIMMER: Yes, and the Cat and Kryten will be brought<br />
back into existence. True, as a by-product I will<br />
become mega-rich and be forced to have constant<br />
sex with that JJones woman, but that's a sacrifice<br />
I'm prepa<strong>red</strong> to make.<br />
LATER. DORMITORY.<br />
RIMMER: Pssst. Wake up!<br />
YOUNG RIMMER: What is it? Who are you?<br />
RIMMER: Look, don't be afraid. I'm going to make you<br />
rich.<br />
In the bed behind him, Thickie Holden stirs. At the word<br />
"rich" he sits up and pays attention.<br />
RIMMER: All you've got to do is listen very, very<br />
carefully. Right, this is the plan. You're going to invent<br />
a thing called "The Tension Sheet."<br />
HOLDEN: Pension Sheet?<br />
RIMMER: T! T! T! Tension, TENsion sheet! They're little<br />
sheets of paper with lots of air bubbles in them.<br />
HOLDEN: Like you get in packing paper?<br />
RIMMER: Look, do you mind, Holden? This is a private<br />
conversation. Go back to sleep! They're exactly the<br />
same as the ones you get in packing paper, but you<br />
paint them <strong>red</strong>.<br />
HOLDEN: Why <strong>red</strong>?<br />
RIMMER: Because it helps people relax! Will you shut up,<br />
I'm trying to make the kid rich! You'd write better if<br />
you took off your boxing gloves. Now, have you got<br />
all that?<br />
YOUNG RIMMER: I think so.<br />
RIMMER: First thing tomorrow, take the idea down to<br />
the patent office.<br />
page 47
ed <strong>dwarf</strong> <strong>season</strong> <strong>three</strong> part one small black beetles: the overkill<br />
YOUNG RIMMER: I can't. Not first thing in the morning.<br />
I've got extra rugby practice because I'm so wet.<br />
RIMMER: Damn! All right, then -- lunchtime. Take it at<br />
lunchtime, okay? I've got to go now. Don't mess this<br />
up!<br />
YOUNG RIMMER: No, sir.<br />
PHOTO LAB.<br />
RIMMER: Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes! If I were a rich man,<br />
dubba dubba dubba dubba dubba dum...<br />
HOLLY: Worked then, did it?<br />
RIMMER: Holly, though it pains me dearly, I'll be having<br />
to say, "Ta-ta." Ta-Ta, to your stupid gormless face. Tata,<br />
to poverty. Ta-ta, failure. Hello, Sabrina. Hello,<br />
sexual ecstasy.<br />
HOLLY: It hasn't worked. According to our data bank,<br />
you didn't invent the tension sheet. It was invented<br />
by a gentleman named "Thickie Holden." All you've<br />
gone and done is put things back exactly as they<br />
were.<br />
RIMMER: Why does nothing ever go right for me? Every<br />
time I get so much as a snifter of a break, a glimpse<br />
of a shadow of happiness, something inexplicably<br />
cruel and horrible happens and it all blows up in my<br />
face.<br />
HOLLY: Hang on a mo', something is different. Don't<br />
ask me why, but somehow you're no longer a<br />
hologram. You're alive!<br />
RIMMER: What? I'm alive! I'm alive! Kryten, unpack<br />
Rachel and get out the puncture repair kit! I'm alive! I<br />
can touch, I can feel, I can fondle -- I'm alive! Don't<br />
you think it's inc<strong>red</strong>ible?<br />
RIMMER BRINGS HIS FISTS DOWN HARD ON TWO CRATES<br />
THAT JUST HAPPEN TO BE LABELLED, "EXPLOSIVES."<br />
CAT: What was he saying?<br />
page 48