("RED DWARF" THEME)
Arnold?
- Arnold!
- I'm here, Mother!
You know your father and I have been terribly
worried about your progress at school.
Yes, Mother.
You just haven't been getting
the marks we think you're capable of.
No, Mother.
Well, a few days ago I went to see the headmaster.
He said it might be in your best interest
if you were to be kept down a year,
if you were to stay in
Junior D for another year.
- Oh.
- Is that all you've got to say?
Well, it is quite difficult to talk
when you're tied upside down to a tree.
- Have you been playing with Howard and Frank?
- Yes.
Well, what on earth were you playing?
Well, I said it was a such a shame we haven't
got a swing. Then they said they could make one.
I didn't realise
they was going to make one out of me.
Well, that's nice, darling. Anyway,
your father had a word with the headmaster,
and we explained how much we wanted you to be a test
pilot in the Space Corps like your brother John,
and how this could damage your chances.
We got this this morning.
You realise how important this is?
This decision could completely
alter the whole course of your life.
("TOP GUN"-STYLE MUSIC)
Whoa! Welcome home, Ace!
- Bless you, Spanners, old friend. It's good to be home.
- Well, how'd she behave?
The lightship? Like a frolicking filly in a harvest-time pasture.
How you and your boys down in engineering got that crate
to break the light barrier, I'll never know.
Well, some people might say it's the devilishly
brave and handsome guy in the cockpit that did it.
Tsh-pshaw! Nonsense.
Any old twit can hug the event horizon of a black hole,
then loop-de-loop round a spinning singularity at twice the speed of light,
then slam the engines into reverse
and blast out of an imploding nebula.
It's you and your guys with the magic
wrenches down in engineering, Spanners.
You're the ones who
break the records.
You'll be going to this party thing they're throwing for you tonight, I suppose?
Good God, no. Heroes' welcomes
with 21-gun salutes
in front of the entire admiralty would send
me to the land of Nod, Spanners.
I'll be down in the mess with the
salt-of-the-earth engineering boys, as per usual.
- See you there at 1900?
- See you later, Ace.
What a guy!
Ah, welcome home, son.
You've been in all of our prayers, you know?
Bless you, Padre. How's little Tommy?
He's pulled through, be on
his feet in no time thanks to you.
Sitting by his bedside
day after day, night after night,
holding his hand, reading him stories...
You know me, Chaplain. Any old excuse
to get out of dinner with the Admiral.
Listen, 1900, we're having a bit of a bash down in the mess.
It would mean a lot to me if you were there.
- Oh Thank you, son.
- 1900.
What a guy!
- Commander Arnold Rimmer reporting for debriefing.
- So, you dog, you're back.
Did you ever doubt it, when I've got someone like you to come back to?
If only it were true. What are you doing lunchtime?
- Not sure. why?
- Because, if you're interested,
I'll be in my quarters, covered in maple syrup.
I'm sorry, Mellie, I don't fraternise with the staff.
- I resign.
- I'll be there at 1300.
- You're back.
- 'Fraid so.
Had the feeling you might be.
Rubber shares went up this morning.
- You wanted to see me, Bongo?
- Ever heard of a thing called the 'dimension theory of reality'?
Doesn't that run along the lines that there is an infinite
number of parallel universes where every possibility exists?
It's along those lines, yeah. The basic tenet
states that for every decision that's made,
the alternative decision
is played out in another reality.
So?
So, the lab boys have come up with a
drive that can break the speed of reality.
Those boffins have hammered together
a crate that can cross dimensions?
- When do I launch?
- It's a one-way ticket, Ace
- There's no coming back.
- I'm free at 1500.
You do realise that this is a prototype.
There's no way of knowing if it'll even get there.
- Where is 'there', exactly?
- You'll be transported to an alternative reality,
a reality where there's another Arnold Rimmer.
Some decision was made at some point in your life
where he went one way and you went the other.
- He might find he's quite different to you.
- Sounds like quite a caper.
You'll do it?
I'm a test pilot in the Space Corps, Bongo.
It's my job to do it.
I know this probably won't interest you, but er, I'd hate myself
for the rest of my life if I didn't at least suggest it...
- Suggest what?
- If you're interested,
I'll be in my quarters at lunchtime,
covered in taramasalata.
Didn't know your bread was buttered that side, Bongo?
It isn't. It's been happily married for 35 years.
It's just a chap like you can turn a guy's head.
I'm sorry, Bongo. Lunch is... on Mellie.
Would it make any difference
if it was... hoummos?
I'm sorry, Bongo. I'm strictly butter side up.
Understood.
What a guy!
- God speed and bless you, son!
- All systems check.
Let's get this kite up into the big black.
Ignition... Chocks away.
Bye, Bongo. Bye, Spanners.
Bye, Padre. Bye, Mellie.
Smoke me a kipper - I'll be back for breakfast.
(ALL) Bye, Ace!
(ENGINES ROAR)
(RIMMER) Lights!
- What?
- What are you doing?
- What am I doing?
- Yes, what are you doing?
Just nipping down the cinema.
Catch the midnight movie.
- What, dressed like that?
- Yeah.
Going to see "Jaws".
You're going fishing, aren't you?
That ocean planet we passed two days ago.
- You're going fishing without me.
- Oh come off it, man. Don't be ridiculous!
Hey, what are you doing with the lights on?
Come on, let's get out of here before...
- I don't believe it. All three of you.
- What's he talking about?
I dunno. For some reason, he's got this crazy whacked-out
idea that we're all going on a fishing holiday.
A fishing holiday?!
"Dear Rimmer, we have
gone on a fishing holiday
"to the ocean planet we passed two days ago
"We tried to wake you but couldn't. See you in three weeks. L, K & C"
Oh, please, sir! They forced me to do it. I had no choice.
- Kryten!
- Why did you want to go without me?
We didn't WANT to go without you.
We just thought it wasn't your scene.
I mean, fishing. Well, it's boring, isn't it?
I love fishing! The glow of the dawn,
the line arcing into the water...
That's it, that's exactly the reason
we didn't invite you. There's no fish.
That, at least, is true, sir. We sent down a search
probe and there's no marine life on the entire planet.
We're just gonna sit out on Starbug, dangle the rods
over the side and have a few cans, you know. Chill out.
I don't believe anybody who'd want to go on a
fishing holiday where they know there's no fish.
We used to do it all the time back home.
We used to go down the canal. Never any fish in that.
We used to go condom fishing.
I swear, one time I caught
this two-pound black ribbed nobbler!
It was about that big!
Why didn't you just say, "Dear Rimmer, we're going
on a fishing holiday and don't want you to come"?
- See? That's what I said we should say!
- Shh!
I don't know what it is about me.
All my life it's been the same old story.
It's not easy you know? To come in every night,
look in that mirror and see a guy nobody likes.
How do you think we feel?
We gotta look at it all day!
Look, we just thought you wouldn't want to come.
I try to be liked. God knows I try.
I regale you with amusing stories of when I was
treasurer of the Hammond Organ Owners' Society.
You never laugh.
I offer to talk you through my photo collection
of 20th-century telegraph poles.
You've always got some excuse.
None of you like Morris dancing.
Would that break your hearts, every once in a while,
the four of us getting our knees in the air,
the jingle of bells, the clonk of wood on wood?
You know, every time I
suggest it, you all pretend to be ill.
You've got it wrong, man.
We just thought you wouldn't want to come.
Now we know you do, great, you can come.
The way you're going about it. It's like there's some major
conspiracy we've been planning it for days. We haven't.
- Really?
- Really.
All right, then. I'll come. I'll just get dressed, Holly?
Oh, who woke him up?
- (RIMMER) Steady now, Kryten.
- (KRYTEN) Yes, sir.
Best to get there in one piece than to rush it and cause an accident, eh?
- I have passed my test, sir. I am a fully qualified pilot.
- Mind that star!
That star is over two light years away, sir.
We're nowhere near it.
There's no percentage in being a boy racer, Kryten.
OK, you passed your test but... Mind that planet!
- Which planet?
- That planet!
That's the planet we're heading to, sir.
Excellent. Excellent. Plot an orbital course.
We'll be there in no time.
- Yes, sir. I have done, sir.
- Yes, and get the second stage under way.
I already have done, sir.
But you haven't correlated the data
with the main computer banks, have you?
- Yes, sir. I have, sir.
- You know... you know your trouble, Kryten?
- What, sir?
- You're a git.
Stupid...
Three weeks stuck with Captain Yawn.
Look, it wasn't my fault. I could have sweet-talked our
way out of it if you hadn't have blown the whole gaff.
Me? What did I do? You're the one who woke him up!
I could've sweet-talked my way out of it, but, oh no,
but you had to come blundering in with your size 12s.
You are so two-faced. Why haven't you got the
guts just to tell the dude nobody likes him.
Oh, yeah. Great. Brilliant.
What am I supposed to say? "Excuse me, Rimmer.
"Do you know you're about as popular as a horny dog
at a Miss Lovely Legs competition"?
Well, that's what I'd do. I'd say...
Hi, buddy! How's it goin'?
Oh... I just had to get out of there. He's driving me nuts!
I cannot stand front-seat drivers.
Well, come on. There's not a lot going on in here.
We're on holiday! Let's cheer things up a bit.
How about some music?
I've brought my Hammond CDs with me.
How about "Reggie Wilson
Plays The Lift Music Classics"?
What about "Sounds
Of The Supermarket: 20 Shopping Greats"?
Has anyone seen the keys to the medical cabinet?
I feel a sudden urge to suffocate myself
with a two-pound black ribbed nobbler.
- Not Reggie Wilson please, Rimmer?
- You don't like Reggie Wilson? What?!
Not even "Pop Goes Delius"
or "Funking Up Wagner"?
I prefer something slightly more melodious,
like the long, drawn out death rattle of a man
suffering from terminal flatulence.
Come on, you bores. Let's do something.
How about we all sing some campfire songs?
# Kumbaya, my Lord
# Kumbaya... # Everyone. Kryten.
# Kumbaya, Kum... #
- Purple alert! Purple alert!
- What's a purple alert?
Well, it's sorta like not as bad as a red alert,
but a bit worse than a blue alert.
Kind of like a mauve alert. Well, I say mauve-
Holly, wipe the rabid foam
from your chin and start again.
There's some sort of disruption
to the time-fabric continuum.
At least, I presume that's what it is.
It's certainly got all the signs.
There's this big wibbly-wobbly swirly
thing and it's headed straight towards us.
What is it?
I don't know, sir. Which ever
way I manoeuvre it follows us!
It seems to be locked in on us. Wait. There's something's coming out of it.
It's going to hit us! Collision course!
(KRYTEN) Emergency! Emergency!
Adopt crash procedure!
- Where's the card. Who's got the card?
- What card?
The plastic card. The plastic card,
with cartoons of the crash procedure on it!
- Rimmer, don't panic, man!
- It should be in the netting behind the seats.
Haven't we got to sit behind a woman
clutching a baby? What's the drill?
- Look, I know what it is.
- What?
Sit down, tuck your head between your legs
and brace yourself.
- Now what?
- Then you open the in-flight magazine and start reading.
The dullness of the articles act as a sedative.
I mean, look at this contents list -
"Salt - An Epicure's Delight",
"Classic Wines Of Estonia",
"Flemish Weaving The Traditional Way"...
Don't fight it, man. Let it take you.
How can you be so mind-bogglingly flippant? Don't you
know what's going to happen? We're going to crash!
Look, you've got to stay calm. It's a well-known fact the
more relaxed you are, the less likely you are to be injured.
Good luck, everybody. Here it comes!
(CLATTER)
"The Ancient Egyptians were great believers in salt..."
"When most people think of classic wines,
they are unlikely to consider the Estonian reds,
yet Estonian grapes
are among the fruitiest and most subtle..."
"Since the beginning of the 13th century,
Belgium has been the home
of some of the most remarkable weaving
to come out of North-west Europe..."
- Is everyone all right?
- Yes, thank God. I'm fine.
Cat!
It's bad, buddy. It's real bad.
See what I mean?
Red with apricot. I look like a jerk!
I'm bleeding an unfashionable colour!
If I'd known I was going to get my leg crushed,
I'd have worn white. It goes with anything.
- Is anything broken?
- Yeah.
All the stitching's come away
and the lining's ripped.
Somebody, please! Get me a tailor!
Kryten, get the first aid box. We have to clean
this up, make sure he doesn't get gangrene.
Gangrene? You think I might get gangrene?
- Yeah. Shh!
- Hey, that might work!
Green with apricot - I think I could pull that off!
It's a break, sir. Quite a bad one.
I'll going to have to snap the bone
back into line, and there's no anaesthetic.
Here. Read the in-flight magazine.
"Salt - An Epicure's Delight. The salt on a typ..."
- (CRUNCH)
- Oooh! My God!
- Did it hurt?
- No, I'm talking about the article.
Have you done my leg yet?
- Holly, what's the damage?
- It doesn't look good.
We've lost the port engine, the starboard engine's packed up, the fuel line's severed,
we're taking in water through the hull, we've lost the landing jets, half the electric's out,
and the elastic's snapped on the furry dice.
- What does that mean in real terms?
- Well, it means you've got a more tasteful cockpit,
but unless you fix that starboard engine in the next 40 minutes, we're going to start sinking.
Anything we can do?
We can try and hire a dance band
and get it to play "Abide With Me"?
I'm going to have to go out there and fix the engine.
You don't know anything about engines!
Besides, there's a 40-knot gale out there.
You'd have to be insane to even attempt it.
Only a fool or a hero would even consider it.
Bingo! Down there.
They've ditched into the drink.
- I'm bailing out, Computer!
- (FEMALE VOICE) But, Ace, it's a suicide mission!
I caused the smash, should apologise.
Only manners.
- Bring her around for another pass.
- Please Ace, don't go. I love you.
Stiff upper modem, old girl.
Smoke me a kipper - I'll be back for breakfast.
Name's Commander Rimmer.
Arnold Rimmer. Friends call me "Ace".
I've come from another dimension. Explain later.
But first of all, let's get you out of this pit.
What do they call you, matey?
- Uh... K-Kryten, sir.
- Series 4,000 Mechanoid, am I right?
Salt of the Space Corps.
- Spanners.
- Eh?
I'm sorry, you reminded me of a fellow I once knew.
What's your handle?
- Lister. Dave Lister.
- Of course it is. Put it there, Dave.
You look a great bloke to be in a scrape with.
What about the guy in the sharp suit?
He hasn't got a name, we just call him Cat.
Looks like you've bought yourself a broken
leg there, Cat. I love the Cuban heels.
Who's the deeply delicious,
stunningly gorgeous computer?
Holly.
God, it's me, only much more handsome.
Well, it looks like I'm superfluous.
Old Arnie'll have you out of here in no time!
- He's a hologram. He can't touch anything.
- Dead, eh? Well, Commiserations, old man.
- What a crushing bore that must be.
- You're me?
Don't quite understand the science, but it's got
something to do with us living identical lives
up until a certain point, where a decision was made
and you went one way, I went the other.
Still, can't hang around here chinwagging all day.
Let's get this box up into the air, shall we?
- What's your plan, Arn?
- I...haven't got one.
OK. Right. well, um...
I suggest this - the starboard engine is repairable,
but it's a two-man job. Any volunteers?
Yeah, OK. Count me in. I've got a window
in my schedule this afternoon.
Not so fast, Davey boy. You leapt in so quick, you didn't give Arnie here a chance to speak.
- He was just about to volunteer, weren't you, Arn?
- No, I wasn't.
OK, well, um... let's get cracking, shall we, Dave?
What's the starboard engine's
thrust-to-input ratio, Arn?
- What's that?
- Well, you can work it out.
- What's the craft's inertia rating?
- I don't know.
- Well, what's the PSI?
- I don't know!
OK, we'll work it out when we get there shall we? Come on, Dave.
Better grab a brolly. There's a bit of a drizzle outside.
- Sir, can I have a word in private?
- Of course, old friend. Excuse us.
- What's the prob, Kryters?
- Well, I have a limited understanding of medicine, sir,
but it's plainly obvious even to me
that your left arm is broken in several places.
Took a bit of a tumble in the landing. It's only a scratch.
I cannot allow you to go out in this storm, sir. Not with your arm in that condition.
- I must insist you allow me to go in your place.
- I see.
- The Series 4,000 isn't waterproof, is it?
- Well, that's besides the point, sir.
Look, I'll tell you what we'll do...
Sorry, old chum, no option.
Arnie, Kryten's taken a bit of a whack. I want you
to reroute his circuitry and bring him back on-line.
- How?
- You don't know how to do that?
No.
Come on, Dave. Let's catch a breath of fresh air.
Smoke me a kipper... Can you do that?
I'll be back for breakfast.
(WIND HOWLS)
- What's your favourite music, Dave?
- Eh?
Keeps your spirits up if you sing a song.
- I like Rastabilly Skank.
- Right.
Aaaah!
Grab my arm, Dave! Grab my arm!
Fraid I'm going to have to do
something a bit sissy now - black out.
Sorry about that. Let's get cracking!
# Whether you like rastabilly... #
Go on, Dave! Sing that song!
# Whether you like rastabilly... #
Paisley with stripes... That's nice...
Green anoraks with furry collars... They're great!
Oh, sir! He's delirious!
Oh! Rubber trousers,
held down with bicycle clips... Wow!
"Commander Rimmer." I ask you.
"Ace." Barf city!
I bet you anything he wears women's underwear.
They're all the same, his type, y'know? - hurly-burly,
rough-and-tumble macho marines in public,
and behind closed doors,
he'll be parading up and down in taffeta ball gowns
drinking mint juleps, whipping the houseboy.
Sir, he's you! It's just that your lives
diverged at a certain point in time.
Yes, I went into the gents and he went the other way.
I assume sir, you are making
fatuous references to his sexuality.
- If I may just point out...?
- Yes! We did it!
(BOTH CHANT) Awooga, awooga, awah, awah!
Awooga, awooga, awah!
What a team! How you got that housing clear, I'll never know.
Oh, come on, Ace, it was you! I could never have reconnected that fuel line.
Well I wouldn't have been able to do it
if you hadn't been holding me by the ankles.
How could you hang upside down AND fix the starboard engine. It was totally brutal.
- What a team!
- What a team.
Now I know where I've seen you two.
Weren't you the double-action centrefold
in July's edition of "Big Boys In Boots"?
Now, look here, Arnie. You can say what you like about me,
but I won't hear a word against Skipper, here.
- "Skipper"?!
- Man like him deserves a nickname.
- I thought "Skipper" sat rather well.
- "Ace" and "Skipper"?!
You sound like a kids' TV series
about a boy and his bush kangaroo!
Don't listen to him, Skipper. Let's get this tea chest
up into the stars and back to the small rouge one, eh?
Yeah, the sooner we get back, the sooner you two can climb
into a nice hot soapy bath and play "spot the submarine".
Sir, the Cat -
I don't think he's going to last much longer!
Bri-nylon underwear... Sock suspenders...
- Suits with cardigans!
- Oh, Sir, he's delirious! His leg's all swollen.
- I think- I think he may lose it.
- (LISTER) Lose his leg?
I fear so. The operation to save it is beyond my expertise.
Lose my leg? Hey, that's terrible.
None of my suits will fit!
Kryten, I'll need 500ccs
of corticoadrenaline, two pints of plasma,
a laser scalpel and some kind of tissue sample, a Macro-Bollington will do.
Oh, my God.
Field microsurgery - all part of basic training
in the Space Corps Special Service. I'll go scrub up.
I'll go and throw up.
- How's the Cat?
- Oh, Ace did it.
Cat's fine now. He's just sitting up in bed
looking through some swatches,
trying to find a material he likes for his dressings.
I don't know how Ace does it. He's been on his feet
for 36 hours, he's still laughing and joking.
What a guy.
He's just nipped off to teach Kryten
how to play the piano. Amazing dude.
So, is it a simple registry office
or a full church do for you two?
I don't understand your attitude, Rimmer. He's you!
He's not me! I'm me! He's a me who had all the luck,
all the chances, all the breaks that I never got.
No, it was just a single incident, and your lives
went off in completely different directions.
It's incredible to think that one decision in your childhood
could produce such drastically different people.
Right. He probably got to go to some really great
school, while I was lumbered with lo House.
He got to meet all the right people,
greased his way up the old boy network,
towel-flicked his way into the Space Corps,
Masonic-handshook his way into flight school
and brown-tongued his way up the ranks.
You would think you'd be pleased that somewhere
in some other dimension there's another you.
Another you doing really well for himself.
Oh, come on, how would you feel if some git
arrived from another dimension,
another Lister, with wall-to-wall charisma
and a PhD in being handsome and wonderful?
Hey man, I AM that Lister!
No, come on. How would you feel if there was another
Lister doing a hell of a lot better than you are?
There IS. Ace knows him.
That's why he called me Spanners when he first came in.
In Ace's dimension, he's a flight engineer in the Space Corps
married to Kristine Kochanski,
twin boys, Jim and Bexley.
I'm made up for him.
Whatever he did that I didn't, he deserves the lot.
For me, it kinda makes sense of a load of stuff, to think
that in all these dimensions every possibility is played out.
Hell, there's probably a really, really weird dimension
where you're better-looking than me.
Well, it just makes me bitter. You know I've
always had this thing about not getting the breaks.
Well, there's living proof of what I could
have achieved if I got the one he got.
- (ACE) Skipper, got a mo?
- Go on. He's probably picked a ring.
Skipper, I've decided I'm not going to stay.
- Why?
- Him and me. It would never work.
I just can't stand to be near the man. To see myself so
warped, so bitter, so weaselly. The man's a maggot.
- So where are you going to go?
- Just out there.
I can't go back, but there's a
billion other realities to explore,
a billion other Arnold Rimmers to meet.
Maybe somewhere there's one who's more of a
pain in the butt than him... but I doubt it.
Well, good luck, man.
Now look, don't be too hard on Rimmer.
You got the break, he didn't, he's just bitter.
Do you know what that break was? At the age of seven,
one of us was kept back a year, the other one wasn't.
Put your finger on that, will you, Skipper?
That's the only difference?
Rimmer went down a year and you stayed up?
No, I was the one who went down a year.
By his terms, he got the break,
but being kept down a year made me.
The humiliation, being tallest
boy in the class by a clear foot.
it changed me, made me
buckle down, made me fight back.
- And I've been fighting back ever since.
- While he spent the rest of his life making excuses.
Maybe he's right. Maybe I did get the lucky break.
I'll grab my things and be off, Dave. Smoke me a kipper, Skipper,
I'll be back for breakfast.
Ready?
I'll smoke him a smegging kipper.
Now!
("TOP GUN"-STYLE MUSIC)
(RIMMER) It's Wednesday night.
It's amateur Hammond organ recital night.
OK, take it away, skutters!
("RED DWARF" THEME
ON HAMMOND ORGAN)
