Smega-Drive
by Ganymede & Titan
Series VII - Stoke me a Clipper - All scenes
- Where is the girl?
- In five minutes she'll be facing ze firing squad, Herr Captain
- Good. And the erstwhile protector?
- Festering in ze cargo hold.
Excellent.
Ah, Ace Rimmer.
Might one enquire how you escaped your bonds?
Just has to dislocate both shoulders, pop them
behind my ears and slip between the ropes.
Of course, it's gonna take major
orthopaedic surgery to put them back,
but, rest assured, that won't stop me
from rescuing the Princess Bonjella.
You're insane, Rimmer.
You're outmanned and outgunned.
- You expect me to concede?
- No, Mr Rimmer, I expect you to die!
Take him into ze hold, take ten
minutes to explain all our plans to him,
and then... throw him out of the plane.
Out!
(ROARS)
Ah, Mr Rimmer, sorry I can't stick around
for a chat, but I've got to blow.
Do me a favour, will you, and feed Snappy?
What I would give for a gun...
(SNAPPY BELCHES)
...or a bottle of Listerine!
Goodbye, Ace Rimmer!
You were a most worthy adversary!
(STIRRING HEROIC MUSIC)
(GROWLS)
Aaah! Aaah!
See you later, alligator!
Bereit...
Achtung...
Zielen...
- (GUNSHOTS)
- Feuer!... Argh!
This is my best top, damn it!
Feuer!
Feuer halt!
(ENGINE STARTS)
Princess Bonjella, Ace Rimmer.
There'll be time for explanations later...
and hopefully some sex.
What a guy!
- Hold on, Princess!
- Oh, please, Ace, call me Beryl
(WHOOSH)
Bet he's a sour Kraut.
("RED DWARF" THEME)
I simply cannot believe you're
going to go through with it, sir.
I'm a man, Kryten, with a
man's urges and a man's desires.
Well, what about an ice-cold shower, sir?
I've used up this year's water supply
with ice-cold showers, Kryten.
I was looking
at the log this morning - 112 gallons!
If I carry on like this,
my libido's gonna cause a drought.
- You think this is the answer?
- Look, I know how it may look from the outside.
Going into an AR simulation with a book
of cheats and seducing the queen of Camelot?
Words fail me. It's quite the most
unchivalrous thing I've ever heard in my life.
- Are you my faithful manservant or what?
- I'm ashamed to be with you, sir!
I haven't been this embarrassed
since I was loosening my adjustment screws,
and my entire groinal box
dropped into Mr Rimmer's soup.
(FANFARE)
Is there any man across the length and breadth of our
great land that dare challenge the king's best knight?
(CHEERING)
- I do, sir!
- And you are, sir?
Lister of Smeg.
Good knight, do you accept this challenge
from... Lister of Smeg?
I do, my king.
And what do you claim if the
victory should be yours, my Lord?
I claim nothing, sire.
Serving the king is reward enough.
(CHEERING)
And you... Lister of Smeg,
What prize do you claim
if you should defeat my best knight?
I claim, my lord, a night and a day
in the bed of your good lady.
(BOOING)
A night and a day in
the bed of my good lady?
(FRENCH ACCENT) We accept ze challenge.
Do we?
We do.
My lady, I think we should
discuss this matter in private.
Do you not have faith in your good knight
to cut this dog down where he stands?
I do... sort of.
Then we accept.
Good knight, bring me this
knave's manhood on a silver platter...
Hey, steady!
Then disembowel him and
feed his innards to the crows!
(CHEERING)
This is worse than playing away at Leeds.
(FANFARE)
When my lace 'ankerchief
flutters onto ze ground,
ze challenge shall commence!
I just luuurve that accent. Rrrrarrr!
If I were you, Mr Galahad, sir, I'd
concentrate on memorising your cheats book.
(CHEERING)
Cheat one - codeword "steedcheat".
Ha!
Heh-heh-heh!
I claim my prize, my Lord.
(JEERING AND BOOING)
You are the scurviest knave in Christendom!
But I swear to you, your scheme
to seduce my fair lady will not succeed!
Cheat two - codeword "chastitycheat".
(CLUNK)
Scum. Absolute scum!
If he that calls himself Lister of Smeg
has a grain of honour in his soul,
that tent will part this very instant,
and he will return to me my lady
and beg the king's forgiveness!
- Has anybody got any whipped cream?
- Whipped cream?
- Ace, we need to find a dimension close by.
- Understood, Computer. Prepare to jump.
- Hey! What's happening?
- Power failure, sir!
Electrics are going down.
(ALARM SOUNDS)
The red, green and blue alert signs are all
flashing! What the smeg does that mean?
Either we're under attack, sir,
or we're having a disco.
(ALARM BUZZES)
I'm locked out! Everything's dead!
Steering's gone, thrusters are down
and we're heading straight
for that ion storm in Sector 12!
- Morning!
- What the smeee is going on?
- A power drain's knocking out all the generators!
- Cause?
An object of such awesome power
and charisma, it's flattened all the grids!
At first, I thought it was me, but it turns
out it's some kind of craft dimension jumping.
Any ident details?
The last time we came across a
lunatic trying to pull a stunt like this,
it was Captain Smug Git himself "Ace" Rimmer.
Dear God, don't make it be him, I couldn't bare it.
This is the JMC transport ship Starbug
opening channels. Please identify yourself.
Well, I said I'd be back for breakfast,
How are those kippers doing, fellas?
Ace, buddy! How you doing?
All the better for seeing you, Cat, old friend.
Is that a new suit you're wearing?
Why, it's sharper than a page of Oscar Wilde
witticisms that have been rolled up into a point,
sprinkled with lemon juice
and jabbed into someone's eye.
Wow, that's sharp! Thanks, buddy!
According to the log, we're down to our last
3,000 vomit bags. It'll never be enough.
- Ace, good to see ya, how you doing?
- Never better, Skipper. Sorry to DJ so close.
Ship's computer made a minor calculation error. Poor thing's
got a bit of a crush on me, it doesn't know what day it is.
So, what have
you been up to, sir?
Nothing special. Saved a couple of
universes, overthrown a few dictatorships,
turned down heap full of marriage
proposals and had my highlights done.
What a guy!
Off!
So, what's new with you chaps? Arnie?
I've been pretty damn
busy myself, actually.
Let me see - I've begun researching
the definitive history of pockets
and I've alphabetised
our entire stock of alphabet soup,
grouping each individual letter
together with its fellows.
I'll take you to the guest quarters, bud, we can catch up.
For starters, you can tell me the name of your stylist!
Thanks, Cat, but with your driving
skills, you should be at the helm.
Incidentally, it's Astro Cuts in the Theta
Sector, Dimension 24. Ask for Alphonse.
Oowwww! Yeah!
- Arnie, up for a stroll?
- Thanks for the offer,
but I'd rather smear my genitalia with fish paste
and dangle them in a pool of hungry piranhas.
I'll take that as a no, then.
- Come on Rimmer, go with him.
- I don't want to.
- But sir, he wants you to.
- I want him to choke to death on his own smug gittyness.
We don't always get what we want.
Rimmer he asked for you, he
obviously feels some sort of bond.
The only bonding I want to do with him involves
a tube of superglue and a rabid hamster.
Oh, all right. I'm going.
God! Tch!
OK, allow me to show you to your sleeping quarters,
they're about 50 yards down there on the right. Bye!
(GROANS)
I think... I may need some help here, Arn.
I knew it! You pretend to be a big shot
when they're around,
but as soon as no one's watching,
you're as butch as an ice-skater's friend
What's the problem? Travel sickness? The strap
on your padded codpiece too tight again?
Sorry to sound so damn melodramatic
but... I'm afraid I'm... on the way out.
- You're what?
- About to visit the great airfield in the sky,
lose all my breathing privileges.
- You're dying?
- You've got it, Arn.
Your brain moves quicker
than a nun's first curry.
You're really dying?
Arnie...
I want you to become the next Ace Rimmer.
(LAUGHS)
- I mean it, Arn!
- Are fevered rantings one of your symptoms?
The universe needs a chap to look up to,
someone to right wrongs,
and just generally be brave,
handsome and all round magnificent.
- And you think I'm your man?
- It's your destiny, Arnie.
What? To wind up looking
like a reject from a Gay Pride disco?
You're just afraid, old son.
Afraid that you're not good enough.
- You've always wanted to play the hero.
- I'm not you.
I think we established
that in your last visit.
I'm not the Ace you
met last time, Arnie.
He caught the business end
of a neutron tank in Dimension 165.
- I'm a hard-light hologram just like you.
- Ace is dead?
I took over from him, and I
want you to take over from me.
My God! What is that stuff?
Light bee's been hit pretty bad.
It's a power leakage.
Electro-magnetic radiation.
I haven't got long.
About the time I usually like to spend
making love - say 12 hours, maybe less.
After that, I'll be too weak to train you.
What do you say?
It's part of the legend.
I'm not the first Ace, not even the second.
There have been... well let's
just say, more than a couple.
As one Ace dies, he recruits his
replacement from a parallel dimension.
We all start off as caterpillars
and turn into butterflies.
But you're talking about a man who at the first sign of
danger cowers under tables with a colander on his head.
Skipper, you can't
judge a book by its cover.
And you can't confuse Rimmer with a
book. For a starter, a book's got a spine.
Let me train him, that's all I ask. Talk to him, persuade him.
(SNIGGERS)
- What is it? What's the joke?
- Nothing, nothing. (LAUGHS)
Well, clearly, it's not nothing.
Clearly, you've just heard something
terribly amusing, clearly.
It's just that Ace has just told me about
trying to get you to be the next Ace Rimmer.
Yes, sadly, I've gotta sort out my shoe
collection or I'd have jumped at it like a shot.
It's just you, y'know?
The next Ace. The very idea! (LAUGHS)
It's not so ridiculous, Lister!
Other versions of me have turned into him.
In fact, if I wasn't needed around here so badly,
I think I'd very likely take him up on it.
Rimmer, don't take this the wrong way,
but how could you be the next Ace?
I mean, you're a gutless,
spineless, gormless, directionless,
neurotic, underachieving,
snivelling, cowardly pile of smeg.
No offence...
But get real, man.
Most eunuchs have got more balls than you.
Well, that, my fine, madras-guzzling
friend, is where you are wrong,