Smega-Drive
by Ganymede & Titan
Series VIII - Pete: Part I - All scenes
("RED DWARF" THEME)
I understand you played an idiotic prank on
a senior and much-respected officer yesterday.
That is just not true, sir. We played the prank on Mr Ackerman, sir... Oh, I see.
What happened?
We inserted a capsule of the truth serum
Sodium Pentothal into his asthma inhaler, sir.
Which is why he rushed onto the bridge
this morning, apologised for being late,
saying he'd been having jiggy-jiggy
with the science officer's wife,
and hadn't allowed enough time
to change out of his Batman outfit.
Permission to snigger, sir.
Permission refused.
May have to snigger anyway, sir.
- Do either of you have anything to say?
- About what, sir?
About Mr Ackerman. About him being late
and wearing a Batman outfit.
Has he considered being Tarzan?
Costume change would be much quicker.
You two are both serving a two-year sentence
in the brig. Do you wanna get out ever?
It's just that Mr Ackerman's so...
...horrible, sir!
I am not, sir!
I'm extremely nice!
Lovely, in fact.
Warm, caring, but most of all, nice.
Hence my nickname - Nicey Ackerman.
That's why I entered the service, sir -
so I could share my sunny disposition with
inmate scum who didn't have my start in life.
Sir, he's been horrible from the day we met him.
Today, we have a new intake.
To them I say, obey the rules,
keep out of trouble, and your time here
will pass much more pleasantly.
Welcome to Floor 13.
He seems like a nice guy.
If you want to speak, ask my permission.
- I was just saying how nice you seemed.
- You spoke again.
I was paying you a compliment, buddy!
I was saying you seemed to be a fair-minded
guy, not one of these psycho types.
You spoke again!
Come on. Back me up.
Hang on. Wait. I get it. I'll should shut up.
I'll shut up, now stop hitting me!
That is definitely the key...
- That is totally untrue, sir.
- Save it, save it, Mr Ackerman.
I thought long and hard about a suitable
punishment and I've come up with this.
You and a team of your choice
will play basketball against a team of guards
led by Mr Ackerman.
God bless you, sir.
Where you will be trounced and humiliated
in front of the entire inmate population.
But sir, if we lose, Baxter and his cronies
will beat us to a pulp.
You'd better win, then.
Aargh!!!
[ELECTRIC SPARKING]
Here, guys. Way to go!
- Where were you?
- Where was I?!?
- You were supposed to be picking up Rice.
- I did. We're meeting for drinks on Thursday.
- Not that kind of picking up, you ninny!
- Buddies, we gotta stop arguing. We can't lose this.
- We've got it all taken care of.
- As soon as the guards swig their half-time juice.
Yeah, the Skutter's managed to smuggle
something out of the medi lab for us.
You know that stuff that helps impotent
guys put the zest back in their love life?
- Boing, the virility enhancement drug?
- That's the stuff. We've Mickey Finned their drinks.
Within seconds, you're harder than a quadratic
equation... And it doesn't wear off for seven hours.
For seven hours those guys are going to be like catapults!
That's going to seriously slow them down.
(CAT) You're not kidding.
Try moving fast with a
fishing pole in your pants!
Get out there and kill. They're lambs to the slaughter.
Go on. Go get 'em!
(WHISTLE)
Come on. Get your hands up!
Get your hands on the ball and shoot!
Seven hours...
Do you know how long that is?
I couldn't remove my shorts until after midnight.
When I wanted a leak, I had to do
a handstand on the toilet seat.
I stopped the lift doors from closing -
I wasn't even catching a lift!
- Where did you get it, the medi-lab?
- Yes, sir.
How? If it was one of those damn skutters,
I'm gonna have it crushed.
It was me, sir, when the doc's back was turned.
I went to up to the medi lab for a sick note,
but the doc said I was feigning illness and didn't
accept it was possible to have athlete's hand.
First thing tomorrow,
you're on spud duty for two weeks.
Now get out of my sight, both of youse.
Hah!
- (LISTER SIGHS)
- Stuck?
- Yeah. God, this is hard!
- What are you doing, a crossword?
No, join the dots.
- What number are you stuck on?
- 124.
124...
Have you tried 125?
I know the number, you gimboid.
It's finding it that's the hard bit.
I'm not some brain-dead simpleton.
Ah, there it is.
Oh, look at that. It's a bucket and spade!
It's clever that, isn't it?
Ah, supper!
Are we supposed to tip them? I'm never sure.
I've seen things more appetising
on the floors of elephant houses.
Only a total idiot would eat this.
They call this meat?
My grandmother's buttocks deep-fried
in old chip fat would taste better than this.
We're on the punishment menu now.
- No chips, no ice cream, just the basics.
- Because we're on punishment detail?
Yeah. Kill Crazy reckons they
give us the cloning experiments
that have gone wrong with some
gravy slopped over to disguise it.
You waited until I was swallowing
til you said that, didn't you?
He swears blind the other day he
got something with two noses in it.
Of course he didn't.
They can't do that. It's illegal.
His starter sneezed.
- Jimbo Steele was a witness.
- Kill Crazy's insane.
He's got lots of strange ideas.
He reckons every time they flush a loo on a plane
it drops straight out.
And that's why you can't go to the lav
when the plane's standing on the runway -
for fear of skid starts.
- He's probably right.
- Of course he isn't.
- Why else won't they let you go, then?
- I don't know.
Maybe they're helping you break up your journey?
If they let you go to the loo first off, you'd
have nothing to do after you'd eaten your cheese.
Nah, Kill Crazy's probably right. That's why
houses on the flight path are always so cheap.
- Because of all the flushing planes?
- Yeah, well think about it.
You can't sunbathe. You can't have a barbecue,
and you have to go out, you've got to
wear a washable hat and leg it to your car.
It's the noise. That's why houses on the flight path
are so cheap. 'Cause of the noise.
- The noise?
- Yeah.
But they're half a mile up.
You'd never be able to hear
people on the loo from that distance.
- Not unless they were like my Uncle Dan.
- Not eating?
Yeah, yeah. In a minute.
(TAPPING)
Yeah...
Ooh! Chicken vindaloo!
Nice one, Bob!
What about the poppadoms, you didn't forget about them, did you?
Poppadoms.
Here's a little something for you.
- Same time tomorrow.
- (SQUEAKY KISS)
Cheers.
Is that the skutter who got you the
stiffening solution for the basketball game?
Yeah, he can get anything, can Bob.
- A claw in every pie!
- Tomorrow, we're on spud duty,
and those knives are supposed to be
sharp as a chemistry teacher's cardigan.
Do you reckon he can get us a
couple of good potato peelers?
Hang on. I'm onto something here.
Forget the potato peelers. What we want is one of those
programmable viruses from the science block.
Programmable what?
Yeah they used to be on Z-Deck. I wonder
if the Nanos have reconstructed them.
You can programme them
to do anything you want. Eat potato skins. You name it.
We could programme them to eat the skins
off the potatoes and leave the rest intact.
We wouldn't have to lift a finger.
Two weeks of hell
would become potato paradise.
I'll get on the blower to Bob's missus.
She'll take a message.
- Bob's got a missus?
- Yeah, Madge. She's amazing.
0 to 60 in under ten minutes.
(RHYTHMIC TAPPING)
(RHYTHMIC TAPPING IN RESPONSE)
(RHYTHMIC TAPPING)
(SINGLE TAP IN RESPONSE)
(RHYTHMIC TAPPING)
- (TWO TAPS)
- (TWO TAPS)
(EXCHANGE OF RAPID TAPPING)
- (TWO TAPS)
- (THREE TAPS)
- Damn!
- Can't he help us?
No. Wrong number.
I got the Chinese laundry.
Do you need anything ironing?
Now, remember, two entire battalions went missing
from this ship. Vanished without trace.
We must stick together and remain constantly vigilant.
One minute, everything's fine. Then you lose concentration for a split second,
and you're all alone and easy pickings
for some hostile life-form.
I know you think I'm a bit of a fusspot
when it comes to safety procedures,
but it's staying alert that has kept us all...
Kept us...
(TINY VOICE) Hello?
Oh, Creator! I'm on my own.
Hey, buddy. We're in here.
What is the point of me giving my "Stay alert,
everyone" pep talk if no one is listening?
- What?
- Look at this.
What are they, Hol?
They look uncannily like something
you should be very, very afraid of.
- What?
- Mime artists.
The ones you get in trendy town centres that chase
you down the street and freeze when you look at them.
- And everyone laughs at you.
- I've never seen anything like this before.
A group of men who display all the normal
life signs but seem totally incapable of movement.
Never seen QPR play away, then?
"Tempus." That's Latin for "time".
Latin, I didn't even know the Romans built spaceships...
Somehow, this device appears
to have caused time to freeze.
Obviously, they
used it erroneously.
Where did...
..you come from, and how did...
..you get hold of that?
It's some kind of tem...
..poral sto...
..rage unit.
Extraordinary!
Hey, this could be a great device
for settling arguments!
Don't mess...
..with that thing. It can re...
.ally screw...