("RED DWARF" THEME)
(RIMMER) ...So there we were
at 2.30 in the morning.
I was beginning to wish I had
never come to cadet training school.
To the south lay water. There was no way we could cross that.
To the East and West,
two armies squeezed us in a pincer.
The only way was North. I had to go for it
and pray the gods were smiling on me.
I picked up the dice and threw two sixes.
Caldicott couldn't believe it.
My go again. Another two sixes!
Rimmer, what's wrong with you? Don't you realise that no
one is even slightly interested in anything you're saying?
You've got this major psychological defect
which blinds you to the fact
that you're boring people to death.
How come you can't sense that?
Anyway, I picked up the dice again...
Unbelievable! Another two sixes!
- Rimmer!
- What?
No one wants to know some stupid story about how you
beat your cadet school training officer at "Risk".
Then disaster! I threw a two and a three.
Caldicott picked up the dice and
threw snake eyes. I was still in it!
- Cat, can you talk to him?
- What?
Anyway, to cut a long story short, I threw a five and a
four, which beat his three and a two, another double six,
followed by a double four and a double five, after he'd thrown a three and a two. I threw a six and a three!
Man, this guy could bore for his country.
What I wanna know is how the smeg can you remember what
dice you threw in a game you played when you were 17?
I jotted it down in my "Risk" campaign book.
I always used to do that.
So I could replay my moments of glory over
a glass of brandy in the sleeping quarters.
I ask you, what better way is
there to spend a Saturday night?
You got me.
So, a six and a three and he
came back with a three and a two...
Rimmer, can't you tell the
story is not gripping me?
I'm in a state of non-grippedness.
I am completely smegging ungripped.
Shut the smeg up!
Don't you want to hear the "Risk" story?
That's what I've been saying for the last 15 minutes.
But I thought that was because I
haven't got to the really interesting bit?
- What really interesting bit?
- Ah! Well, that was about two hours later,
after he'd thrown a three and a
two and I'd thrown a four and a one.
- I picked up the dice...
- Hang on a minute. Hang on...
The really interesting bit is
exactly the same as the dull bit.
You don't know what I did
with the dice though, do you?
For all you know, I could have
jammed them up his nostrils,
headbutted him on the nose and they
could have blasted out of his ears.
- That would've been quite interesting.
- OK. Rimmer... What did you do with the dice?
I threw a five and a two.
- And that's the really interesting bit?
- Well, it was interesting to me, it got me into Irkutsk.
Hmm... Curious.
Extraordinary!
What a truly copasetic piece of machinery.
- What is it?
- Well, basically it appears to be a device
that converts an individual into digital information
and then transmits him as light beams
to another point in space.
Essentially, it's a matter... transporter.
It's pretty neat... huh?
- Where'd you get it from?
- I think it must be a prototype.
I found it in the research labs down on Z Deck.
I managed to cobble together the missing
circuitry and it appears to be fully functional.
Theoretically,
it can transport several people at once.
Would you like to grip a paddle, sir?
we'll meet you by the navicomp in Starbug.
Let's go.
I'm sorry about that, sir.
I neglected to engage the depth function.
We'll walk, Kryten. we'll walk.
So, besides cutting down on shoe leather,
what good is it?
Exploration. It can take you anywhere.
It can home in on atmosphere-bearing planets
within a range of 500,000 light years.
If there are life forms in the local systems,
this thing will take you straight to 'em.
So are there any planets with an atmosphere in range?
Several, according to
the paddle's scanners,
but the most interesting prospect
appears to be 200,000 light years away.
In the normal course of things, it would take
Starbug several billion years to reach it.
It wouldn't be so bad.
Rimmer could finish his "Risk" story.
Travelling sub-space via the paddle,
we would reach it almost instantaneously.
- What are we waiting for?
- Hey, hey, hey!
- Nobody's rearranging MY molecules.
- It's perfectly safe, sir,
but I do suggest that Mr Rimmer
and I go on ahead as a scout party.
What?!
Well, if the atmosphere isn't breathable,
we won't be affected.
If it is, we can send the paddle back to pick you up.
The thing is, Kryters, I'd love
to be in the advance scout party,
facing all those thrilling
unknown dangers with you.
Fighting a frontiersman's path through a jungle
of discovery, but you're forgetting one thing.
No, sir. I've taken your congenital
cowardice into consideration.
I'm a hologram. I can't touch
the thing. How can it transport me?
Well, of course, you do have
a small physical presence.
Precisely.
- Holly, would you give me Mr Rimmer's light-bee, please?
- Wait a minute...
- (RIMMER SQUEAKS) Where am I?
- This is Rimmer?
(HOLLY) Yeah, it buzzes around inside him
and projects his image.
My God! That was disgusting!
Please, sir, that's a very
sophisticated piece of hardware.
- Really? Anyone fancy a game of squash?
- Sir!
Thank you. Now, if all goes well,
the paddle will rematerialise here.
Simply press this green key and you'll be transported
down to the planet, a safe distance from us.
(LISTER) OK.
- What is this place?
- Well, I can't pinpoint our location precisely,
but the atmosphere is indeed breathable.
I'll return the paddle.
- What now?
- Well, I suggest we start to run, sir.
I suggest we ambulate
as fast as the local gravity will allow.
- Why?
- Because of them, sir.
Sir?
Must be safe. Let's go.
This will be ze final push, mein kamerads.
Their resources are poor. Zeir vill is veek!
We can crush zem.
We can grind zem into ze dirt!
We can chew up Zeir bodies
and spit zem out as if zey are sauerkraut!
Intruders! Seize zem!
So long...
...suckers!
Dummkopfs! Arrest zem!
- Get us out of here!
- Don't panic me, man. I'm doing my best!
- (CAT) Where are we?
- Don't know.
Stone. We're in some sort of
narrow stone passageway.
- So what do we do?
- I can see daylight.
I dunno, we'll just hang around here I suppose,
till we work out where we are.
At least we're out of trouble.
Who were those guys?
The short one with the stupid 'tash was Hitler.
And the jerky one with the child
molester glasses was Goebbels.
I suppose the fat bastard must have been Goering.
Must have been.
He was a cocaine addict and a transvestite.
Pity really, if things had worked out different
he had all the makings of a major movie star.
(OUTSIDE) Hands up, pig dogs!
- I think I've just worked out where we are.
- Get zat machine!
You seriously telling me he's a transvestite?
- Yeah.
- With those hips?!
I think we've lost them.
I can't believe how feeble and
improbable those creatures were, sir.
I've seen more convincing dinosaurs given
away free with a packet of Wheaty Flakes.
There's something wrong here.
Reach for the sky, boys!
Thank you very much. Thank you.
Lets take it-a nice and easy. No funny business or
I splash-a your guts around like-a communion wine.
- OK, get moving. Thank you very much.
- Which way?
Thataway.
What do you think these
guys are going to do to us?
Whatever it takes to find out about the paddle.
Hey, if you mean torture,
then say the word "torture".
- I can take it.
- OK. They may torture us.
- (WAILS) Torture us!
- They probably won't, man.
They're probably not interested in the paddle.
They'll probably just take us outside and... execute us.
You're just saying that to make me feel better.
It's just, those guys are fiends.
They instantly know your weak spots.
As soon as they see me, they'll know they only have
to force me into platform shoes and flared trousers,
and I'll sing like Tweety Pie.
Dunno what the smeg went wrong.
Kryten never said anything about the paddle taking us back in time.
It was just supposed to transport us to the
nearest planet with a breathable atmosphere.
How the smeg did we wind up
in the middle of the Third Reich?
- (BANGING)
- What are those guys doing out there?
- Building something.
- What?
Oh, nothing. Nothing.
Just a sculpture, you know. A modern art job.
- Like the kind you get in shopping malls.
- What's it made of?
Wood. It's a sort of inverted L shape in wood.
Does it have a kind of rope motif?
There's a sort of noosey theme to it, yeah.
It's gallows, right?
Look, if it's gallows, say it's gallows.
- I can take it.
- OK, it's gallows.
(WAILS) They've built the gallows to hang us!
Look, man, don't panic. We're gonna escape!
- How?
- Just...
Hijack the guards when they come in,
nick their uniforms and stroll out.
Are you insane? You seriously expect me
to wear grey out of season?
- I'd rather hang.
- Hang on! Hang on! Something's happening.
Some kind of parade or drill, but...
- But what?
- Hang on.
These guys aren't Nazis.
They're all wearing different period costumes.
There's one that looks like Al Capone.
There's another like Mussolini.
Richard III, Napoleon...
Smeg! It's like all the worst people in history
have been brought together in one place.
Oh, my God! There's James Last!
I recognise him from Rimmer's record collection.
- What are they doing?
- Just lining up in... some kind of firing squad.
Whoa, whoa! Hang on! Someone's being brought out.
They're tying him to a stake.
It's Winnie the Pooh.
- What?!
- Winnie the Pooh, I swear!
He's refusing the blindfold.
- They're tying Winnie the Pooh to the stake?
- (GUNFIRE)
That's something no one should ever have to see!
My God, sirs! You may break our bones,
but you will never break our spirits!
Good day, good sirs.
The name's Lincoln. Abraham Lincoln.
We have to face facts - the war is lost.
(SQUEAKS) What are we gonna do?
I don't know. I still feel there's a solution
probably involving triangles.
Pythagoras, what is it with
you always, with the triangles?
Your solution to everything is triangles!
There are problems in life that can't be solved with triangles.
Hey, we got us some prisoners.
Anybody got a burger? I haven't eaten
in five minutes. Thank you very much.
- Could someone tell me what's going on, here?
- Who are these people, they're not waxdroids.
- Waxdroids?
- Of course!
This whole place, the entire complex,
is a colossal waxdroid theme park.
See? "Prehistoric World" - that must be where we materialised.
On either side of it, "Villain World" and "Hero World".
I thought waxdroids were programmed to repeat a
simple sequence of routines over and over again?
They must have broken their
programming and now they're running amok.
You see, we've been left here all alone
for millions of years... (SOBS)
We learned to break our programs.
And we've been fighting this
idiotic futile war ever since.
- A war?
- Good versus evil, sugar.
- Where's the rest of your army?
- They've all been killed... (SOBS)
All our best warriors are gone, man -
John Wayne, Sir Lancelot, Joan of Arc,
Nelson, Wellington... Hell, baby, even Doris Day.
They've all died in battle, man.
And you're all that's left, just a smattering
of intellectuals, pacifists and celebrities?
We number less than 20.
If only we numbered 21, then at least
we could form an equilateral triangle.
Will you shut up already with the triangles?!
Everything is triangles! You're driving me crazy!
Who do the enemy have?
The cream of evil - Hitler, Napoleon, Messalina,
Caligula, the Boston Strangler, dozens of them.
And we don't even have a leader.
We haven't really got a chance!
My God, Kryten! This is my destiny!
- I was born for this moment!
- I'm not sure I'm following you, sir.
Across that valley lies an army of darkness
such as mankind has never seen.
The only thing between them and total victory
is this pathetic pocket of resistance,
without a leader, without a plan.
And into this bleak arena steps a man -
the man for the moment.
- Oh. who?
- Me! Who do you think, Pat Boone?
Gentlemen, ladies, assemble your troops
for inspection at 1500 hours.
Together with my valiant adjutant, Kryten,
I'm gonna turn you into the meanest, fittest fighting
machine that ever graced a battlefield.
Come on, Kryten.
(SQUEALS) I don't want to fight! I might get killed!
...and we've been fighting
the Wax War ever since.
- What's the point of this war?
- They want our wax. So they can melt us down,
insert new programs
and turn us into their own kind.
That's why we're becoming
so hopelessly outnumbered.
- On your feet, pigs!
- Hey, buddy, we just...
Silence, scum!
Do you not sink to your knees and bow
in the presence of the Emperor Caligula?
- Who is this guy?
- Caligula's a famous Roman emperor.
He slept with his mother, both his
sisters and ended up eating his son.
Hey, a little advice, bud - we all feel peckish
after making love, but most of us settle for pizza.
You are an impudent fool!
- I don't know who the other one is.
- That's Rasputin.
the most hated, loathed and despised man of his era.
This machine, how does it work?
- I don't know. If I did, I wouldn't be here.
- Very well. that's the way you want to play it?
Rasputin, bring in the bucket of soapy frogs
and remove his trousers!
Hang on, It's got something to do
with travelling across sub-space.
- Demonstrate.
- Well, like I said, I don't really know.
Very well. Rasputin, bring hither
the skin-diving suit with the bottom cut out
and unleash the rampant wildebeest.
Hang on! I'll try my best, I'll try
my best. Just- just give it here.
- Ah! You think I'm insane?
- Shall we take a vote?
Silence, scum!
Shut up!
We'll all hold on to it.
Now!
Come on! Let's get out of here.
Rasputin, I'm very cross indeed! Guards!
(DOGS BARK)
This way! If we make good time,
we'll be back at HQ by sunset.
What a challenge!
The greatest minds in military history against me.
- Let's pray they're up to it.
- Are you sure your sanity chip is fully screwed in, sir?
Have you any conception of what's
lining up outside for inspection?
I'll soon shake them up. By God, I only
wish the lads from the lo Amateur Wargamers
and the Recreators of the Battle of
Neasden Society could see me now.
They'd choke on their pikestaffs.
Thank you very much, sir. Thank you.
As you were, Sergeant Presley.
Guys are outside, sir. Awaiting
inspection. Thank you very much.
- Well done, Presley.
- Uh-huh-huh.
- After you, sir.
- Kryten, let's see what we've got, eh?
- What's your name, soldier?
- His name's Gandhi, sir. Mahatma Ghandi.
Well, get him out of that damn nappy
and into a uniform. Have you no pride, man?
Don't you want to win this war?
Don't eyeball me, Ghandi.
Get on the floor and give me fifty. Now!
Teresa, sir. Mother Teresa.
Assisi, sir. St Francis of Assisi.
There's only two kinds from Assisi -
steers and queers. Which are you, boy?
Moving hastily on, sir.
- What's he doing here?
- He was posted here from the fiction section.
The Dalai Lama.
Mr Noel Coward, sir.
- Delighted to meet you, dear boy.
- Shut up.
- Monsieur Jean-Paul Sartre, sir.
- Who?
He's a philosopher, sir. He's an existentialist.
Well, Sartre, we don't like
existentialists around here,
and we certainly don't like French philosophers
poncing around in their black polo necks,
filling everyone's heads with their theories about the
bleakness of existence and the absurdity of the cosmos. Clear?
Well, you're quite the worst bunch
of famous historical waxdroids
I've ever had the misfortune
to clap my eyes on!
You're a total bloody shambles,
and if we're gonna win this war,
someone is gonna have to
turn you into soldiers!
And that someone,
ladies and gentlemen, is me!
Over to you, Kryten.
I'm watching you, Gandhi.
# We are tough and we are mean
(ALL) # Arnie Rimmer's death machine
# All we do is kill and slay
(ALL) # Don't care if we get blown away
# A-R-N-I-E
# Arnie Rimmer's Death machiiiiiine!
# Hey! Hey! #
You're driving them too hard, sir.
It's my job to drive them hard, Kryten.
Three of them have
melted from exhaustion.
Perhaps I have been a bit too tough,
but it's for their own good.
You're killing them for their own good?
Look, when they get out in that battlefield,
don't you think the enemy are going to try and kill them?
They won't need to.
You'll have wiped them all out first.
I know what I'm doing, Kryten.
We attack tomorrow under cover of daylight.
- Daylight, sir?
- It's the last thing they'll be expecting.
a daylight charge over the minefield.
The what-field?!
Obviously, I'll have to coordinate things
from back here. Now this is the plan...
Rimmer!
Thank you very much, sir. People say
they know you, sir. Thank you very much.
Listy! Welcome to Command Centre.
Rimmer, what's going on out there?
Isn't that Mahatma Gandhi?
What's he doing practising
hand-to-hand combat with a nun?
That's not a nun, Listy.
That's Lieutenant Colonel Mother Teresa.
She's a soldier now.
- What are you doing, buddy?
- I'm winning this war, that's what I'm doing "buddy".
You won't believe what a ragamuffin bunch
of lefty, wishy-washy liberals they were
before I knocked some good old-fashioned
death-or-glory bloodlust into them.
Rimmer, You've taken a group of holy men and
pacifists and turned them into the Dirty Dozen!
Oh, I can't take all the credit.
I couldn't have done it without Kryten, here.
I'm sorry, sirs. I had no choice. I'm programmed to obey,
no matter how psychotic and deranged the human order.
Rimmer, you're gonna get these guys wiped out.
They're not soldiers!
- He's flipped.
- Yeah!
- With all respect, sir, he's right. I beg you to reconsider.
- They're only waxdroids.
Rimmer, they've broken their programming.
They're capable of independent thought.
That makes them alive, makes them practically people.
I'm not gonna let you do it.
- Pardon me?
- You heard me!
- If you can talk them into it, then I can talk 'em out.
- I see. Sergeant Presley?
- Thank you very much, sir.
- Place these 'gentlemen' under arrest until further notice.
- If they resist, shoot them.
- Reach for the sky, boys. Let me see them understains.
Come on, Kryten.
He's been acting strangely
ever since we landed here, sir.
I think it might have affected his
mind when you chewed his light-bee.
I'll do more than chew his light-bee
when we get out of here.
(RIMMER) Kryteeeen!
Thank you very much.
You've been wonderful prisoners, you really have.
Well, I don't know about the enemy,
but you certainly scare the hell out of me!
Let's get this show on the road.
Company... advance!
- (WHOOPING AND GUNFIRE)
- Kryten.
You know what you have to do.
- Let's go, Holly.
- OK, matey.
(CHANTS)
(SQUEAKS)
(SHRIEKS)
Good shot!
Destroy them! Shoot them!
Iron Duke? Iron Duke? This is, er, Pawn Sacrifice.
- Come in, please.
- (RIMMER) Kryten, how's it going?
I'm in the Third Reich building.
Minimal resistance.
Just as you planned,
the decoy charge has drawn their fire.
OK. Now find the boiler room
and hit the thermostat.
They'll melt once it hits 100 degrees.
I'm on my way, sir.
Victory, gentlemen! The fascists have fallen.
- May I untie them now, sir?
- Rejoice. We conquer!
Victory on Waxworld! It's VW Day!
- So you took the HQ, wiped them all out?
- To a droid.
- It's true. All melted.
- What about Arnie's army?
- Yeah, how many of them made it back?
- There are always casualties in war, gentlemen.
Otherwise, it wouldn't be war, just be a rather
nasty argument with lots of pushing and shoving.
- How many survived?
- Well, we haven't had time to make a full official estimate,
but at a rough guess - and obviously this is
subject to alteration pending information updates
round about none of them.
So, you wiped out the entire
population of this planet?
You make it sound so negative, Lister. Don't you see?
The deranged menace that once
threatened this world is vanquished.
No, it isn't, pal. You're still here.
I brought about peace.
Peace, freedom and democracy.
Yeah, Rimmer. Right. Absolutely.
Now all the corpses that litter
that battlefield can just lie there,
safe in the knowledge that they
snuffed it under a flag of peace,
and can now happily decompose in
a land of freedom... you smeghead.
There really is no pleasing some people, is there?
Well, at least we got the Matter Paddle back.
Well, there's nothing to stay here for.
Let's get back.
Shouldn't we go into the battlefield and bask in the glow of victory?
Holly, give me his light-bee.
- See you, Rimmer.
- Sir! What are you thinking of?
It's OK. He'll come out in a couple a days...
..and he'll have been through
what he put us through.
Does any one fancy a vindaloo?
(ELVIS SINGS) # 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
# I said fun, fun, fun
# In the sun, sun, sun #
Huh! Great to be back!
Huh!
Thank you very much.
