Series III - Polymorph - All scenes
(GRAVELLY VOICE) This week's "Red Dwarf"
contains scenes which are unsuitable
for younger viewers
and people of a nervous disposition.
You have been warned.
(RED DWARF THEME)
(STEADY BLEEPING)
(BLEEP) Danger.
Do not attempt to open this pod.
The creature inside is extremely hostile.
It feeds off the human psyche,
seeks out the deranged,
the unbalanced
and the emotionally crippled.
(LONG GUTTURAL ROAR)
(CREATURE MUTTERS) Oh, pardon me...
Oh! Oh, n...! Urgh!
(ZIP! ZIP! ZIP!)
(ZIP!)
Not too little and not too much. That's important...
Here we go!
I just thought I'd just give your quarters
a quick tickle around, sir.
- Won't take a jiff.
- Not now, Kryten. I'm cooking.
- I didn't know you could do that!
- Oh, yes.
I can plug a number of add-ons into my groinal socket
allowing me to perform virtually
any household task imaginable.
- Like what?
- Oh, you name it,
buzz-saw, power drill, hedge trimmer...
even an egg whisk.
What, so you like, stick the egg whisk attachment on the end
and you can whip up a Spanish omelette?
I certainly can, sir. But it's amazing how
few people are prepared to eat them.
Brr, brr, brr, brr, brr, brr, brr, brr...
Goodness me!
I must have sucked up a penny.
I better change the old bag, there.
Yes, I'll just get a fresh one.
Mmm! Something smells good! What is it?
It's me! I love this aftershave!
You are five minutes away
from the greatest meal of your life, man.
Set your taste buds on Defcon 3!
Hey, you've really made an effort
here, where'd you get all this stuff?
I just got sick and tired of using plastic knifes and forks, man
so I went to the medical unit and nicked some gear.
This is a scalpel!
I'm supposed to cut my food with a scalpel?
Something that's been inside someone's guts?
It's all been cleaned. It's washed. It's clean!
Something that long ago in history may well have
performed a certain popular Jewish operation?
I'm supposed to eat with this?
Get the onion salads out of the fridge.
"Embryo Refrigeration Unit"?!
How many times...? It's clean! It's been cleaned!
- Onion salads, onion salads...
- They're in the kidney bowls,
next to the colostomy bag
with the chilli sauce in it.
Here we go! Here we go!
(BEEPS)
Yahoo!
Come on, man. Come on.
It's ready. Sit down. sit down.
One kebab for you and one kebab for me.
Lemon juice?
- What the hell is that?
- It's a syringe.
- What kind of syringe?
- It's for cows.
Artificial insemination. It's been washed.
It's clean. It's all been sterilised. Do you want lemon juice or what?
- Excuse me.
- What about the meal?
This isn't a meal, it's an autopsy!
This is just the starter, man,
what about the main course?
Hey! You think I
got nothing better to do
than hang around watching you serve
chicken chasseur in a stool bucket?
Charming! I don't know.
You pull out all the stops, you make an effort...
try and do something with a bit of class,
and where does it get you?
Mmm, very cheeky.
(MUTTERS)
Oh, I'm sorry to interrupt, sir.
I just need to get a... (LAUGHS) Sorry.
Oh, no, Kryten. It's all right.
Just running a few of the old home movies.
That's me, there. Those are my brothers -
John, Frank and Howard.
God, we were close.
The Four Musketeers, we used to call ourselves.
Well, the Three Musketeers, actually.
They always let me be the Queen of Spain.
Marvellous. I mean, yes, I was the butt
of the occasional practical joke,
but I mean, er...nothing sinister.
Just the usual boyhood pranks, you know -
apple-pie beds and black-eye telescopes...
One time, they even hid
a small landmine in my sandpit.
They took it from my father's gun cabinet.
I mean, how were they supposed
to know it was going to go off?
- Marvellous guys.
- Oh, and er, who's that there?
- An old girlfriend, Mr. Arnold, sir?
- Hardly.
No, not really your type, I
suppose. Silly old trout like that.
- She's my mother.
- Oh! Oh, God! I am so sorry, sir...
- Just forget it.
- Oh, how can I forget it, sir?
I compared your mother
to a foolish, aged, blubbery fish.
I said she was
a simple-minded, scaly old piscine.
I intimated she was an ugly,
lungless marine animal
with galloping senility,
a putrid amphibious gill-breather
with less brains than a mollusc.
Forget it!
Ah. Freeze.
There she is. Magnificent woman.
Very prim, very proper. Some say austere.
Some people took her for
cold, thought she was aloof.
Not a bit of it, just despised idiots,
no time for fools.
Tragic, really,
otherwise we would have got on famously.
well, if you'll excuse me, sir. I'll go now,
This is clearly a very private family moment.
I've no fish to embarrass you further.
I'll let myself trout.
- Oh, sir, I'm...
- Just go!
I don't want you to panic, Arn, but it does appear
there's a very tiny possibility
that there may very well in all likelyhood, possibly be
a non-human life form on board.
You mean like last time?
When you got us all worked up
we went scooting off to the cargo bay
complete with bazookoids and backpacks,
and it turned out to be one of Lister's socks?
Well, I didn't recognise the genetic structure.
Biologically speaking,
they were a completely new life form.
Absolutely ridiculous. I felt the total goit.
- I think you should take a butchers'.
- Where is it?
I lost it. It's somewhere
along the habitation decks.
I can't get a moment's peace in this place! Just perfect!
- Enjoying your meal, sir?
- It's delicious, Kryten. De-smegging-licious!
It's my own recipe, you know?
Shami Kebab Diablo. It's beautiful, man.
It's like eating molten lava.
I cooked up one for Petersen once, y'know?
He was in sick bay for a week. What a weed!
(SNEEZES)
- What did you say?
- I didn't say anything, sir.
(CREATURE MUTTERS)
- You seriously like them that hot?
- It's trying to kill me.
Oh, it's a good one, huh?
- It went under here, I can see it!
- Are you all right, sir?
- (ZIP!)
- Smeg, it's gone.
- What?
- How could that be! Where could it go?
We better get out of here, Kryten.
Something very weird is going on.
Something very, very... Ooh!
Sudden pain in my groin.
- What's wrong?
- Ah! My underpants!
They're shrinking. Oh, God!
Me boxers are alive, man!
They're getting smaller! Help me, please!
Please, I'm begging you!
Get 'em off!
- Pull them down!
- Keep still!
Well, I can't say I'm totally shocked.
You'll bonk anything, won't you, Lister?
- Kryten, the boxers, where are they?
- I threw them over here.
- You sure?
- There's nothing here.
- (ZIP!)
- just the blanket and the pillow and the...
Snake!
- Snake!
- Kryten!
- What the smeg is going on?!
- I hate snakes.
They freak me out totally, snakes.
They are my all-time second-worst fear, guy.
- What's your first?
- (ZIP!)
(ROARS)
This.
Is he OK?
- As far as we can tell, yes.
- So, where did the creature go?
It turned into a sort of, splodgy, squelchy thing
and squidged off down the corridor.
- What is it? Some kind of alien?
- No, it's from Earth, man-made.
I checked out its DNA profile.
Some kind of genetic experiment that went wrong.
Apparently, it was an attempt
to create the ultimate warrior,
a mutant that could change shape to
suit its terrain to deceive its enemies.
- So what did go wrong?
- It's insane!
It feeds off your negative emotions -
fear, guilt, anger, paranoia,
drains them out of its prey.
Hmm. It's a sort of emotional vampire.
It changes shape
to provoke a negative emotion.
In Lister's case, It took him to the very limit
of his terror, and then sucked out his fear.
- So now Lister's got no sense of fear?
- Precisely.
- What are we going to do?
- I say let's get out there and twat it.
Lister, you're ill. Just relax and leave this to us.
I could have had it in the sleeping quarters but you saw it, you saw it! It took me by surprise.
Lister, it turned into an 8ft-tall
armour-plated alien killing machine.
If it wants a barney, we'll give it one.
One swift knee in the happy sacks,
it'll drop like anyone else.
Fine. We'll bear that in mind
when we're planning our strategy.
I'm gonna rip out its windpipe and beat it to death with the tonsil end.
Yes, yes. Very good.
I'm gonna stick my fist so far down its gob, I'm
gonna be able to pull the label off its underpants.
Yes, yes. Er, Kryten...
What's that, pal? You starting trouble?
It's just a little something to calm you down, sir.
Come on, then. All of you slags!
All together or one at a time. I don't
care, it's all the same to me. I'm...
Ah. Thank God for that.
Right, as far as I can see it, we have two options -
one - take it on and kill it,
or two - run away.
- Who's for two?
- Two sounds pretty good to me, sir.
It's always been my lucky number.
- Right, well let's load up Starbug and get out of here.
- What about Lister?
Oh, just seal the hatch from the inside.
He'll be safe here, until we're ready to go.
- Remember, it's out there and it could be anything.
- Let's move it.
What about the Space Corps directive
which states: "It is our primary overriding duty
to contact other life forms, exchange information
and wherever possible, bring them home"?
What about the Rimmer
directive, which states:
"Never tangle with anything that's got more teeth
than the entire Osmond family"?
(RAPID BEEPING)
It's here.
- Where?
- Somewhere.
Set the bazookoids to heat-seeker.
When you see it, aim roughly in its direction,
and the heat-seekers will do the rest.
Shadows... In the shadows...
It's in the shadows! There! There! There!
Sorry. My fault. False alarm.
Idiot.
I don't understand it, holograms
don't produce heat and neither do androids.
What are they homing in on?
So long, guys.
Oh, come on! Give me a break!
You either got it or you ain't,
and, boys, you ain't even close.
(LISTER) Cat, where are you?
- Over here.
- Stay put, we'll come and find you.
Keep talking.
What are you looking for?
A mutant. It's dangerous.
It can turn into anything.
Oh, sounds pretty scary.
It is, baby. Believe me.
It must take a really brave sort
of guy to do this kind of work.
- Well, I guess you're right.
- And smart, I bet you have to be smart.
Smart? Yeah,
you definitely have to be smart.
Like I say, it can turn into anything.
You gotta have your wits about you all the time.
Don't let up for one second, or it'll just creep up on you and - blip!
- you're dog meat.
- Come on, man.
- You know, you're really quite a guy,
- Brave, smart, handsome...
- Oh, you think handsome?
Oh, come on. You know, you're probably
the best-looking guy I've ever seen.
- I wasn't going to be the first to say.
- Do you know what I'd really like?
- Hmm?
- I'd really like to make love to a guy like you.
Well, I'm sure I have a window
in my schedule somewhere.
Let's see... What are you doing in,
say, ten seconds time?
- Nothing I couldn't cancel.
- Hi. I'm the Cat.
Hi. I'm the genetic mutant.
Glad to know you. Jenny who?
(ROARS)
It's got him, it's got him!
Oh! Oh, my goodness! Are you all right?
- Is he dead?
- Unconscious,
but, according to the psi-scan,
he appears to have lost an emotion.
- Which emotion?
- He's lost his vanity.
- This is your fault, Kryten.
- M-M-My fault?
We were supposed to stick
together. You let the Cat run off alone.
- But it wasn't, I mean...
- He trusted you. Now look at him.
- Oh, please. I feel so...
- (GROWLS) Guilty?
- Yes.
- Good! (SCREECHES)
Hah!
(ROARS)
Shoo! Shoo!
(ZIP!)
(MUTTERS)
- Let's just get Lister and get out of here.
- It's got my guilt, I have lost the single emotion
which prevents my transgressing
the mores and manners of civilised society.
Stop your blithering, Kryten.
Come on, grab the Cat and let's go!
Oh, screw you, hadron-head!
(CREAKS)
(MUTTERING)
Where have you been? Let's go!
(SLURS) I was getting myself comfortable, man.
- Come on, Kryten. You're holding us all up.
- Ah, who cares?
- You're going to get us all killed.
- So?
Oh, look. It's Bonehead's mum.
- Mother?
- Hello, dear.
- What are you doing?
- What does it look like, darling?
- You made love to my mother?
- Yeah. Do you wanna make something of it?
- It's not your mother, it's the polymorph!
- You've just had my mum?!
Five times. He was like a wild stallion.
"Very prim, very proper. Almost austere."
Don't fall for it, Arn, it's trying to make you angry.
Darling, I wish
you could have seen him in action.
He was like a set of pistons
in an ocean liner engine room.
I think I'm going to be sick.
- Don't get angry, that's what it wants.
- Lister and mother...
it's a dream come true.
He's so energetic.
I honestly thought
my false teeth were going to fall out.
- How lovely.
- The positions he bent me into!
Terrific. That sounds enchanting. Well done.
And the things this boy can do
with Alphabetti Spaghetti.
- Cool it, Arnie.
- ALPHABETTI SPAGHETTI?!
- So, where is it now?
- It's gone back down to the cargo bays,
sleeping off a four-course meal
of fear, vanity, guilt and anger.
You better get it before it
comes back for seconds.
Look, just because it's an armour-plated
alien killing machine
that salivates unspeakable slobber,
doesn't mean it's a bad person.
What we've got to
is get it round a table,
put together a solution package.
Perhaps over tea and biscuits.
Look at him. You can't trust his opinion.
He's got no anger. He's a total dork.
Good point, Kryten.
Let's take that on board, shall we?
David... David. Do you have anything
you want to bring to this forum?
Well, yes. I have, actually, Arnold.
Why don't we go down
to the ammunition stores,
get the nuclear warheads
and then strap one to my head.
I'll nut the smegger to oblivion.
Right, well, that's very nice, David.
Let's put that on the back burner, shall we?
Cat, let's have your contribution. Come on.
Hey, don't ask me my opinion. I'm nobody.
Just pretend I'm not here.
That's lovely. Thank you very much.
Moving on a step...
and I hope no-one thinks that I'm
setting myself up as self-elected chairperson.
Just see me as a facilitator.
Kryten, what's your view? Don't be shy.
Well, I think we should send Lister in as a decoy,
and while it's busy eating him alive,
we could creep up on it unawares
and blast it into the stratosphere.
Good plan. That's the best plan yet.
Let it get knackered eating me to death,
then you guys can just, like, catch it unawares.
Well, that's certainly an option, David, yes.
Um, but here's my proposal. Let's get tough.
The time for talking is over.
Call it extreme if you like, but I propose
we hit it hard and hit it fast
with a major,
and I mean major, leaflet campaign.
And while it's reeling from that,
we follow up with a whist drive,
a car-boot sale, some street theatre
and possibly even some benefit concerts. OK?
Now, if that's not enough,
I'm sorry, it's time for the T-shirts.
"Mutants Out."
"Chameleonic Life Forms? No, Thanks."
And if that's not enough, then I don't know what will be!
Has anyone ever told you that
you are a disgusting pus-filled bubo
who has all the wit, charm and self-possession
of an Alsatian dog
after a head-swap operation?
Listen, you bunch of tarts, it's clobbering time!
There's a body bag out there
with that scud-ball's name on it.
And I'm doing up the zip. Anyone
who gets in my way gets a napalm enema.
(SLURS) I think everybody's right,
except me, so just forget I spoke, huh?
Um, I think we're all beginning
to lose sight of the real issue here,
which is what are we going to call ourselves?
I think it comes down to a choice between
the League Against Salivating Monsters
or my own personal preference,
which is the Committee for the Liberation
and Integration of Terrifying Organisms
and their Rehabilitation Into Society.
Erm, one drawback with that,
the abbreviation is CLITORIS.
Look, it needs killing!
If that means I have to sacrifice my life
in some stupid, pointless way, then all the better.
Yes. Why not? I mean, even if it
doesn't work, it'll still be a laugh.
Right, so let's just cut all
of this business and get on with it.
Last one alive's a wet ponce. Who's with me?
Well, the car stickers aren't ready till Thursday,
but sometimes
one just has to act spontaneously.
- People, let's go.
- I'm coming, too.
Maybe I can bum some money from him.
Maybe if I hand you guys over,
it'll let me go. Move it, suckers!
(GROWLING)
(RIMMER) # Love everybody
# All you need is love... #
Come on, you chicken!
Show us your slobbery chops
and we'll blow them off.
Here they are, nice juicy humans.
Come and get them.
Here, mutie-mutant!
(GROWLS)
(ROARS)
Phewee! What am I wearing?
Oh, how can you ever forgive me, sirs?
Naturally, I will commit suicide immediately.
Hey, we were all a bit whacked out there.
- You can say that again.
- Come on, let's go and clean up.
If I don't get into some coordinated evening wear,
I'm going to have to resign my post
as Most Handsome Guy on the Ship.
(CACKLES AND ROARS)
# It's cold outside
There's no kind of atmosphere
# I'm all alone, more or less
# Let me fly far away from here
# Fun, fun, fun
# In the sun, sun, sun
# I want to lie, shipwrecked and comatose
# Drinking fresh mango juice
# Goldfish shoals, nibbling at my toes
# Fun, fun, fun
# In the sun, sun, sun
# Fun, fun, fun
# In the sun, sun, sun #
