by Ganymede & Titan

Series VII - Ouroboros - All scenes


All right? Anyone serving or what?

(WOMAN) With you in a minute, luv.


- Hello, Frank, pet. What can I get for ya?
- Look at this, I just found it under the pool table.

- Any note?
- No, nothin'.


They've written its name on the side here.

"Our Rob or Ross."

Yeah, look at the way it's spelt? They must've
been thicker than a ticket tout's wad.

- Couldn't even decide on a name.
- Oh, poor little mite.

I wonder what'll become of him?
Somethin' terrible, no doubt.

I hate doing that! I hate doing that!



I've just sneezed out me cap!

Just thought I'd change your linen
before you turn in for the night, sir.

Kryten, something terrible's
happened, I've lost me cap.

No, no, here it is, sir. I've just
finished giving it its monthly scrape.

My tooth cap, the one you made
from the skeleton in medi-bay.

- Oh, I see.
- Hey! Here it is.

I need some glue to stick it in. I've just got
that needly, pointy thing, I look disgusting.

- Let me see.
- No, I look all needly, pointy and disgusting.

Let me see, sir. I'm a mechanoid, for goodness'
sake. I won't be revolted, no matter how you look.


Oh, my God! It's hideous!


Yeah, very funny. Just fix it.

It'll take about half an hour to
prepare some dental adhesive.

Give me some wood glue.
You can redo it in the morning.

Wood glue? Are you sure, sir? Oh, I don't want you
to get your lips glued together, now be careful.

Oh, incidentally, I just found some
old clothes in one of the storage lockers.

Hey! I need a dressing gown.

Well, that's what I thought.
You know, I thought if I remove the trim,

let it out a little bit, obviously dye
it, well, I think it could be just dandy.

Yeah. Nice one, Kryts.

Perhaps I could take the necessary
measurements now, sir?

I wonder why guys have nostril hair.

I think it's nature's way of telling you

it's time to buy a flat cap
and a pair of driving gloves, sir.

Worst are those guys who just let it grow.

They look like they've got like, half a loo brush
lodged up each nostril.

They look like those machines
that shine your shoes.

Curious, isn't it, that most women
aren't similarly afflicted.

Obviously, I'm excluding women
who work in Oxfam shops.

Pain: it evens itself out, doesn't it?

Women have the agony
of childbirth and we have... this.

(WHINES) They don't
know they're born! They don't!

What is wrong with me? Now I've got
a box of floss attached to me face!

Hey! Nice outfit!

- Did you come in here for a reason?
- Oh, yeah!

Something's showing up on the long-range
scan which is weird with a capital "WE".

- Can you be a tad more scientific?
- Come again?

Is it a wibbly thing or a swirly thing, sir?

At this early stage, I'd hate to commit myself
and wind up looking a fool. Come see for yourself.

Wibbly thing or swirly thing...

and he refuses to commit himself?

He's losing it. He really is.

It's some kind of power surge that's causing a
major disturbance in the fabric of space-time.

It's also causing a major disturbance
in the fabric of my pants!

- It's almost like a tear.
- Perhaps a temporal rip.

I'm gonna turn this tub around
and try and outrun it.

Get real, man. That thing out there's going
faster than a copy of "Hello!" in a nunnery.

Suggest we treat it like a tidal wave, sir, and
head straight for the eye of the storm.

Are you sure about that?

Because intestines and this suit won't work
without colon-coloured accessories.

I need to know - should I change?

Cat, go for it, man. The eye of the storm.

We seem to be through the worst of it...

but I'm picking up some kind of sub-space
energy disturbance down on the engineering deck.

You're right, sir. It's off the scale.

Now, for a sub-space energy disturbance,
I'm dressed perfectly.

Let's check it out.

According to the psi-scan,

the membrane between two realities
has temporarily collapsed.

This is some kind of hyperway
through non-space to a parallel dimension.

Well, let's have a goosey.


Careful, sir. The linkway's
about as stable as an Italian

taxi driver who's got stuck
behind two old priests in a Skoda.

What the hell is that?

Non-space, sir.
An abyss of infinite nothingness

where time doesn't seem to exist.

Sounds like Rimmer's organ recital night.

I recognise those guys. Wait. Don't tell me.

How's it going?

- So, you're a hologram.
- Hard light.

So in your dimension, Lister died?

In the radiation leak
that wiped out Red Dwarf.

Why didn't you get put into
stasis like me? What happened?

Remember coming back
from shore leave on Mimas?

I'd taken a couple of days off
to get over Kochanski. Yeah, I remember...

Where the hell have you been?
I've reported you as AWOL.

I've been on shore leave, man.
Didn't you get me message?

You're supposed to apply to a superior officer
before you get shore leave, Lister.

Look, Rimmer, give me a break.

Ever since Kochanski split with me,
I've needed some time on me own, ok?

- Kochanski dumped you?
- Yeah.

- She really dumped you?
- Yes!

You didn't tell me! You should've told me.
Are you really heartbroken?

- You know, man, you know...
- You are, aren't you?

OK, yes! Yes!

Didn't I tell you you'd never bridge
that class division?

Take her - navigation officer,
cadet school, Space Corps, well-spoken,

can stay awake during operas,
knows her cheeses.

She's class. And you? What are you?

I don't mean to sound cruel,
but in comparison you're scum.

And second-rate scum, at that.

Yeah, but don't forget: I used to be fourth-rate
scum. I've dragged meself up by me bootstraps, bub.

Listy, Listy, your type isn't Kochanski, Listy.

It's someone called Tiffany.
Someone who drinks Campari and soda

and wears orange crotchless panties,

someone who thinks deelyboppers are funny,

someone who says "sumfink"
instead of "something"

and Laughs like a freshly-wounded moose
strapped to a cement mixer.

This from a man
who's had less sex than a lettuce.

Oh, ha-ha

People who say "ha-ha"
have no sense of humour.

They just can't think of a witty retort.

Oh, ha-ha

Ms Kochanski, ma'am.

I don't suppose you've read my proposal
for a new Space Corps salute?

It's just, I'm trying to get the support of the
officers to have it replace the conventional one

I don't want to pressure you, but it is
rather important because if you like it,

that brings the overall total of officers
who are right behind it up to... one.

- Rimmer?
- Yes, ma'am?

- Have sex with someone. And that's an order.
- Yes, ma'am. Right away, ma'am.

Ere. Ring this number. Say I sent you.
Tell them it's an emergency.

- Hi
- Hmm...

I just wanted to say, look,
I'm sorry for the Dear John. It was cowardly.

What? Oh, that! Sorry, I'd completely
forgot. It seems like years ago.

- It was last week.
- Was it?

- Mm-hmm.
- Must've got over it just like that.

Oh, come on, Dave. It's just,
we weren't going anywhere.

How could we? We never got out of bed.

Look, there's more to life
than hanging out in your bunk,

eating delivery curries
and having fantastic sex.

- Frankly, I find that very hard to believe.
- I just wanted to see if we could be friends.

- Do you mean give it another go?
- No, no.

- I'm, er...back with Tim now.
- Tim?!

That guy is such a poser!

The way he always wears that white suit
and that stupid, big, white floppy hat.

He's a chef!

Yeah, but the way he
always poses around in it,

in the officers' club,
smoking those black cigarettes.

- He's such a phoney.
- At least he's got a vocation.

What, and you think because I happen to be

vice-assistant vending machine deputy-minion
maintenance repair man, I'm nobody?

Well.. yes.

Do you think a guy who brings home ten
free Crunchie bar samples every week

hasn't got connections?

- I just think that perhaps, if you would...

Do you know what you'd get
for smuggling a cat on board?

- What? Cat-martialled?
- I could have you before a disciplinary board.

- How long before? Do I get chance to shower and change?
- I'm serious!

As serving N.O., I'm supposed to report it!

So report it.
Get me put into stasis for six months.

Don't you know how dangerous it is
to smuggle in an un-quarantined animal?

I was lonely. I'd just been dumped
by me girlfriend.

It breaks every reg in the manual.


Just don't get caught
or I'm out cold for six months, OK?

So you didn't get put into stasis
and died with the rest of the crew?

- Then Holly brought me back as a hologram.
- So, what happened to Kochanski?

They found the cat,
and she got six months in stasis.

So does that mean...?


- You look great!
- You look pretty amazing yourself.

So in this dimension, you didn't die?
You're an alternate version of Dave.

Well, I think of meself as the definitive version,
you know, honed to perfection by time and evolution.

I can see why you'd think that, yeah...

Sirs, ma'am, we've scarcely two hours

before the dimensional tear self-repairs
and we lose the linkway.

I suggest we might spend some of that time
exchanging supplies and information.

We could update your hydrogen RAM-drive
to a tachyon-powered engine core.

And in return, maybe we can unscrew
all those old pickle jars you can't open.

- There is something you could do for us.
- Yeah?

At some point, I want to have children.

It's a slightly pervy thing to ask, especially seeing
as we've only just met, but perhaps you could...

- Yeah?
- After all, we've been... you know, lovers...

- Perhaps you could...
- Yeah?

- Fill this up.
- I'd rather be standing a bit closer.

It's a self-gamete mixing invitro tube.
I'm already in there.

It just needs your... contribution.

So it worked out for you guys, then.

I couldn't be more happy. Well, outside
major dental surgery with a rusty knife.


Gelf ship! Somehow they've managed
to infiltrate non-space!

Kris, give me your hand!

Hang on to me feet, man!

It's gonna give!


- She's really something, isn't she?
- Who is?

Officer Bud-Babe.

In fact, I'm barely hanging on to my title
as most gorgeous creature on this ship.

Oh, what am I talking about? Am I crazy?

Cat, man, we're under attack. It might be
an idea to get us the smeg out of here.

What happened? I thought I'd lost you!

- I think you've mistaken me...
- Shh!

- What were you saying?
- Forget it.

Oh, dear! Sir, I think Miss Kochanski's
under the delusion that you're...

- Not now, Kryten, man.
- No, but you don't understand me, sir, you see...

- Miss Kochanski thinks that you're
- I'm handling it, OK?

Now, go make some sweet tea or something.

- Er... Permission to speak, sir?
- Permission refused!

- Wait a minute. This isn't the medi-bay.
- I think you must have mistaken me for your Lister.

- That's what I've been trying to tell you all along, sir!
- Were you?!

If only you'd listened to me,
I could have saved you from all that yuckiness.

Is that the kind of guy you are?

Someone who'd take advantage of a woman
who's half insensible?

I was gonna tell you, honestly.

They always taught me in school
it was rude to talk with your mouth full.

Wait, you mean I'm stuck here with you?

Priscilla, Queen of Deep Space?
No way. I've gotta get that linkway back!


It's not exactly possible at the moment.
We're under attack.

- It's back on our tail!
- What is it?

Some Gelf battle cruiser.

They've sent a scan, sir. Take a look.

Oh, my God. It's the missus.

- The what?
- Mr Lister's Gelf bride.

We all went to the wedding.
It was just beautiful.

- He married this?!
- He had to.

- You mean...?
- We were in a bit of a fix! We needed an engine part.

You should visit the orang-utan house at London
Zoo, sometime. Your eyes would be out on stalks!

Wait. They're opening comms channels.
Sir, they're demanding you return to your bride.

In Gelf law, separation is impossible

without special dispensation
from Hakakhhak-kkhhak...