by Ganymede & Titan

Series III - Marooned - All scenes


(HOLLY) Abandon ship! Abandon ship!
Black hole approaching.

This is not a drill. THIS is a drill...


Abandon ship!
Oh, God! Now the siren's bust.

Awooga! Awooga! Abandon ship!

But a black hole is a huge, impacted star.
It's millions of miles wide.

It's massive! Why didn't you
see anything on the radar screen?

Well, the thing about a black hole,

its main distinguishing feature, is it's black!

And the thing about space, the colour of space,

your basic space it's black!

- How are you supposed to see them?
- But five of them...

How can you be ambushed by five black holes?

It's always the way, innit?

We've been in deep space for three
million years and there hasn't been one.

Then all of a sudden, five turn up at once!

Come on. We've only got 20 minutes.

Careful, careful! Mind
the hatchway, don't knock it.

What did you want to
bring this piece of junk for?

That "piece of junk" happens
to be a Javanese camphor-wood chest.

It belonged to my father and
it's got all my valuables in it.

I never knew you had so much
crap! What's this? Toy soldiers?

"Toy soldiers"?
They've been in our family for years.

They're priceless 19th Century replicas
of Napoleon's Armée du Nord.

So you can't change the clothes
and that like you can with Sindy?

- Look, we've got barely 15 minutes.
- What the smeg is this?!

Just what little I've managed
to scrimp and scrape

by tossing the odd copper
aside for a rainy day.

Rimmer, there must
be 20 grand here...

24. Look, I thought we were
supposed to be getting off the ship?

24,000!... And you had the
front to borrow money off me

to buy ME a birthday present!

That's going back a bit, Lister. It was only 15 quid.

Right yeah, 15 quid. And what did I get?
A five-quid book token.

Those cards aren't free, you know. I had to fork out for that as well.

Rimmer, you never even paid me back.

Honestly, you're tighter than an Italian waiter's keks.

Blue Midget is loaded.

- Aren't you guys ready yet?
- Don't hang around for us, we'll catch you up.

- Are you sure you've got everything?
- Just the bare essentials: food and medical supplies.

Yeah, I'm just taking the bare essentials, too - 36 changes of clothing

and ten full-length dress mirrors.

Cat, we're going to be away for 12 hours.

- You think I need more mirrors?
- Let's get out of here. Let's go, go, go!

- Right, I want a safe, sensible drive. No stunts.
- No worries.

(HOLLY) OK, this is
the plan...

I'll navigate Red Dwarf through the
minefield of black holes.

If all goes well,
we'll rendezvous on the desert moon Sigma-14D.

(LISTER) But what happens if all *doesn't* go well?

(HOLLY) Well, Red Dwarf and everything in it will be crushed
to the size of a garden pea.

(LISTER) Bye-bye, Birdseye.

- Please, honestly, they're priceless!
- I'm only having a goosie.

Look, If you get curry all over
them, how's that going to look?

What's Lt. Gen. Baron Jaquinaux
of the First Cavalry Division supposed to be doing

with meat vindaloo all over his tunic?

It'll make him look more authentic.
People'll think he's got dysentery.

You're obsessed with war though, aren't you?

I mean you collect toy soldiers. You play war games.

You read those stupid combat magazines.

And half your books are about Patton
and Caesar and various other gits.

It's about leadership. That's what I admire.

It's just so ironic really when, deep down,
you're such a basic natural coward.

- Coward?!
- Planet leave. Miranda.

That space bar "The Hacienda"? Remember that?

When that fight started up
Rimmer, you were out of that door

quicker than a whippet with a bumful of dynamite.

That was a bar room brawl,
that was a common pub fight,

a shambolic drunken set-to.

Which you started.

I just made an innocuous comment.

I merely voiced the rumour
that MacWilliams was sexually tilted

in favour of sleeping with the dead.

I didn't start the rumour. I merely voiced it.

To his face. Right to his face.

When he was with his four biggest mates.

Then you do a Roadrunner act
and you leave me to face the music.

Well, I could've got hurt!

(SCOFFS) You'd've made a
brilliant general, wouldn't you?

Lister, Generals don't smash chairs
over people's heads.

They don't get Newcastle Brown
bottles, stick them in your face

and say, "Stitch that, Jimmy."

Generals are in the nice white tent on the hill,
sipping Sancerre, directing the battle.

- They're men of honour.
- I don't believe it. You make war sound romantic.

I'll tell you something,
something I've never told anyone.

When I was 15, I went on a school trip to Macedonia
to the site of Alexander the Great's palace.

And for the first time
in my whole life, I felt... I felt I was home.

This palace was where I belonged.

Years later, I got friendly
with a hypnotherapist, Donald.

I told him about the Alexander The Great thing, and he said
he could regress me back through my past lives.

I was dubious, but I let him put me back.

It turned out my instincts were absolutely correct.

I had lived a past life in Macedonia.
That palace WAS my home.

Because, you see Lister, believe it or not,

he told me that in a previous incarnation,

I was Alexander the Great's chief eunuch.

Do you know something? I believe you.

He didn't say
I was Alexander the Great himself,

which is obviously what I wanted to hear,
but it explained everything.

I'd lived a past life alongside
one of the greatest generals in history.

- No wonder the military is in my blood.
- No wonder you're such a good singer.

Well, maybe it's tot, I don't
know but it's funny, even to this day,

I can't look at a pair of
nutcrackers without wincing.

And why is it every time I'm
with a large group of women,

I have this overwhelming urge
to bathe them in warm olive oil.

Rimmer, I have that urge.
It's got nothing to do with past lives.

- Well, why is it, then?
- It's because you're unhappy.

You're unhappy with your own boring,
humdrum, weaselly existence.

You're looking for something
with a bit more - I don't know - glamour.

Now is what counts, Rimmer, living for today.

I mean, Who knows what's
gonna happen tomorrow?

Who knows what's gonna
happen in the next five minutes?

That's what makes life so exciting.




Mayday. Mayday. Can you read me?
Come in, please. Can you read me?

Still snowing, is it?

It's useless. You can hardly stand up,
never mind dig it out.

- No luck?
- Nothing's getting through.

Three smegging days. They must be looking for us
by now. Where the smeg are they?

It's impossible to find us in this weather,
they could be ten feet away and walk straight past us.

We're going to die, aren't we?
How much food is there?

There's half a bag
of soggy smoky bacon crisps,

a tin of mustard powder, three water biscuits,

a brown lemon, two bottles of vinegar

and a tube of Bonjela gum ointment.

- Gum ointment?
- I found it in the first-aid box.

It's that minty flavour. It's quite nice.

It's quite nice if you smear it on your mouth ulcer, Rimmer.

- You can't sit down and eat it.
- You may have to.

- That's it? There's nothing else?
- Just a Pot Noodle...

Oh, and I found a tin of
dog food in the tool cupboard.

Well, it's obvious what gets eaten last, then isn't it?

I can't stand Pot Noodles.

We're going to die, aren't we?
Correction: I'M going to die.

I mean, you're a hologram, You're already dead. You don't need food.

- Did you find any wood?
- There's no wood out there.

There's no vegetation.
Smeg all. Just a wasteland.

You've got to keep this fire going, it's your only form of heat

I'm going to die, aren't I?

God, I'm hungry. I'm gonna have crisps.

- No!
- Just one.

You ate less than 16 hours ago.

I had a raw sprout and that piece of chewing gum
I found stuck under the desk!

Look, you've got to pace yourself.
Go to sleep. Wait till tomorrow.

It's OK for you, you're a hologram. You don't
need to eat. You don't even feel the cold.

Look, think of something else.
Try to take your mind off it.

Mayday. Mayday.

- I wonder they call it "Mayday"?
- Eh?

The distress call. I wonder why it's "Mayday"?
It's only a bank holiday.

Why not Shrove Tuesday
or Ascension Sunday?

Ascension Sunday. Ascension Sunday.

The 15th Wednesday after Pentecost.
The 15th Wednesday after Pentecost.

It's French, you doink. "M'aidez." "Help me."

- M-aid-ez.
- Is that right?

Everywhere I look reminds me of food.

Look at these books - Charles Lamb...

Herman Wok...

The Complete Works of Sir Francis Bacon...

Eric Van Lustbader...

Eric Van Lustbader?
What's he got to do with food?

Van. Meat van. Bread van. Food!

Look, you're getting obsessed.

It's just these books.
It's like someone put them here to taunt me.

Look at this one,
"The Caretaker" by Harold Pint-er.

It's Pinter.

- Look, stop thinking about food.
- Take my mind off it.

- Talk to me about something.
- Like what?

- Anything.
- Erm...

- Anything apart from food?
- Don't talk about food.

- I just can't think of another topic.
- Don't mention Topics. They're food!

- Tell me a story, man. Any story.
- I don't know any stories.

- Anything. Tell me how you lost your virginity.
- My what?

- Talk to me.
- How I lost it?

Well, it was so long ago, Lister.

I was so young and sexually precocious,
I'm not sure I can remember.

Rimmer, everyone can remember how they lost their virginity.
It's just one of those things.

Like everyone can remember where they were
the day Cliff Richard was shot...

or when the first woman landed on Pluto,

or when they installed
that gigantic toupee over

the Earth to cover the
gap in the ozone layer.

It's just one of those things you always remember.

Well, I don't. Good grief! You can hardly expect me
to recall every single sexual liaison I'd ever partaken of.

- What do you think I am, the Memory Man?
- Rimmer, dont' give me this, I want the truth.

- The truth?
- Yeah.

There's not much to tell, really.

I was always a bit of a fish out of water around women.

Never know what to say to them.

I never think I was very highly sexed, to be honest with you.

I think it was all that school cabbage
I was forced to eat as a boy.

Still, the first ever time...

The first time was this girl
I met at cadet school called Sandra.

We did it in the back of my brother's car.

- What was it like?
- Brilliant. Incredible.

Bentley V8 convertible.

Walnut burr panelling.
Marvellous machine. Marvellous.

- So, come on, how did you lose yours?
- Michelle Fisher.

The ninth hole
of the Bootle municipal golf course.

Par four, dog-leg to the right,
in the bunker behind the green.

You lost your virginity on a golf course?
How did you have the nerve?

It wasn't in the middle of the Ryder Cup
or anything. It was midnight.

How old were you?

She was so good-looking if she
wanted, she could've got a job working

behind the perfume counter at
Lewis's. That's how gorgeous she was.

How old were you?

She just took all her clothes off and stood
there in front of me completely naked.

I was so excited,
I nearly dropped my skateboard.

- Skateboard?! How old were you?
- Twelve.


- Twelve years old?!
- Yeah.

You lost your virginity when you were twelve?!


You can't have been a full member
of the golf club, then.

Of course I wasn't!

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

Of course I wasn't.

You didn't pay any
green fees or anything?!

It was just a place to go.

I used to play golf.
I hate people who abuse the facilities.

I hope you raked the sand back
nicely before you left.

That'd be a hell of a lie to get into, wouldn't it?

Competition the next day, your ball lands
in Lister's buttock crevice.

You'd need more than a
niblick to get that one out.

- Are you trying to say I've got a big bum?
- Big?

It's like two badly parked Volkswagens.

The only thing I ever
lost when I was twelve,

were my shoes with the compass in the
heel and the animal-tracks in the soles.

Porky Roebuck threw them in the septic tank
behind the sports ground.

I cried for weeks.

I was wearing them.

I never even thought about sex when I was 12.

Maybe that's because you use to be
Alexander the Great's chief eunuch.

- What are you doing?!
- There's nothing left to burn.

- But my books! Don't burn my books!
- There's nothing else left.

But it's obscene. A book is a thing of beauty.

It's the voice of freedom, the essence of civilisation.

"Biggles Learns to Fly"?

Well, perhaps not that one,
but you know what I'm saying.

"The Complete Works of Shakespeare."

This'll be good for a couple of hours.

I dont know, three days without food, and the
walls of civilisation comes tumbling down.

What are you on about?

They say that any society
is three meals away from revolution.

Deprive a culture of food for three meals
and you'll have anarchy.

It's true, isn't it? You've gone without food
for two days and you're turning into a barbarian.

- I'm just burning a book.
- But, it's not just a book.

It's the only copy of probably the greatest
work in English literature.

Probably the only copy left in the entire universe,

and you're quite happy to chuck it on the fire
to keep your mitts warm for 15 minutes.

There's nothing left to burn!

That's it, then, is it? Toodle-pip, King Lear.

Farewell, Macbeth. Bye-bye, Hamlet.

Have you ever actually read any of it?

I've seen "West Side Story". That's based on one of them.

Have you ever actually *read* any of it?

Not all the way through, no.

- But I can quote some, though.
- Well, go on, then.


That's all I can remember.

- What's that from, then?
- "Richard Ill", you moron.

The brilliant "now" speech
he does at the beginning.