by Ganymede & Titan

Series X - Trojan - All scenes

Ow! Yeah!

- Hey, budski!

All right, man? Just watching the racing.
I've got a bet on with dispenser 55.

Come on, Golden Boy, you big lump.

Golders! There we go!
Come on, you're winning by a snout!

That's the lad! Come on,
you fine thing, you! Here we go!

- God!

You lazy fat pig.

That's 100 dollar-pounds
down the crapper.

Pigs racing.

Hey! What's this?

Found that in Petersen's quarters.
There's some crazy stuff in that, man.

For instance, did you know
that in the 1970s in Sweden,

20% of all traffic accidents
involved a moose?

- A moose?
- It's crazy, that, isn't it?

Well, if they're stupid enough to let 'em
drive, what the hell do they expect?

- The moose aren't driving.
- You just said they were.

No, they're not driving.
They're just causing the accidents.

You mean they're in the back
fooling around, distracting the driver?

That is insane.

Why are they giving them a lift
in the first place?

Let 'em walk! They got legs!

No, the moose aren't in the cars,
antlers out the sunroof.

They're in the roads, moosing about,
crossing roads, causing accidents.

You mean they're not looking
left and right?


- Not using the pedestrian crossings?
- Exactly.

Not paying attention to whether it's
a little green man or a little red man?

Of course they're not!
They're mooses! Eesh.

These Swedes, they expect too much.

- Ah, Kryten.
- Mail, sir, internal.

Excellent. I resat my astronavs.

Again, sir? Is that wise?

I want to be an officer, Kryten.
I can't help myself.

I've always loved leading.
Being a leader, doing leadery things.

- Bossing people about, sir?
- Exactly.

But aren't you concerned,
though, sir, if you fail,

you'll spend another weekend
sobbing inside a cupboard?

I've only failed nine times, Kryten.

You make me sound like
a complete halfwit. Here we go.

Good luck, sir.

Good luck not required,
you metal munchkin.

Because, and here's the clever bit,
I expect to fail.

You do, sir?

Absolutely, Kryten.
It's a fiendishly difficult paper.

And I've decided
not to be so hard on myself.

If I pass, splendissimo.

If I fail, hey-ho, pip and dandy.

That's my new life slogan.

Oh. Hey-ho, pip and what, sir?

Sometimes you have to learn how to lose
before you're ready to win.

It's all in this fascinating book
I'm reading.

Oh, what's it called, sir?

Sometimes You Have To Learn How
To Lose Before You're Ready To Win.

It's not a long book, Kryten, but it makes
a good point, I think, which is...

Sometimes you have to learn how to lose
before you're ready to win.

You've read it?

Er... actually, no, I haven't, sir.

Ah, sounds like you have. Anyway!

The point is, after reading it,

I'm much more forgiving
of my little faults and failures.

Whatever the result,
I shall accept it with calm equilibrium.

Hey-ho, pip and dandy, sir!


Can you never, ever succeed at anything?!

You useless rancid cancerous sack of sick!

I'm guessing this is a hey-ho,
pip and dandy moment, sir.

COMPUTER: Your craft
has just entered the catchment area

for the All-Droid Mail Order
Shopping Station.

- Hey, what's this?
- Welcome to All-Droid,

where shopping's made easy.

That is totally astonishing!
Talk me through this, Bob.

Oh, these shopping channel ads
are just so lame.

You simply put your sugar
into your coffee like so,

place it in the housing unit....

Who buys this junk?

...grab your Stirmaster, and
the Stirmaster stirs your coffee for you!

Golly! Even I could do that!

- Who'd want that?
- It's totally junk.

The average person who lives to their 90s,
and has six cups of coffee a day,

spends over two weeks stirring drinks!

- Oh, my!
- Two weeks?

Two weeks?

Think what you could do in that time.

Two weeks stirring, or two weeks skiing?

- I know what I'd rather do!
- Ha-ha! Me too!

The Stirmaster.

A lovely addition to any modern kitchen.

Buy yours now!

I want one. What about you?

I'd like to order a Stirmaster, please.

Two. Make it two.

COMPUTER: You are presently in
a queue, but we care about your call

and promise to deal with your order
as soon as possible.


Sirs? The scouters
have located a derelict.

- I'm getting a Stirmaster.
- I'm getting one too.

Have you seen this about mooses?


- RIMMER: Did you have to bring that?
- LISTER: I'm next up!



Hey, nice ship.

A Quantum Twister, Listy.
The pride of the Space Corps.

My three brothers
served on ships like this.

I had no idea, sir.
What were they, waiters or barmen?

Captains, Kryten.

Proud Fellows of the Space Corps
Super-Infinity Fleet.

And your brothers have the same genes
as you? That's impressive.

It's like a pole-vaulter winning gold
with a chopstick.

It must make you so proud, though, sir,

knowing that your brothers
served on ships like this.

Must give you a warm glow in your heart.

Yes, it's called heartburn, Kryten.

I also get palpitations and nausea.

How can you be jealous?
Those Space Corps jocks were all jerks.

Just a load of overprivileged,
practical-joke-playing party boys.

Party boys? They were space marines,
Listey, ripped and pipped.

Do you know what their slogan is?

"While you sleep,
we're probably saving the universe."

You sure? I thought it was,
"While you sleep,

"we're probably shaving off your pubes
and gluing them to your head."

Hey, maybe we could swap ships.

This baby's got to be better
than Red Dwarf.

That crate's slower
than the speed of dark.

Unfortunately impossible, sir.
The Trojan is not flight-worthy.

There must be 40 buttons here,
all for the captain only,

his special private captainy buttons.


This could have been mine. Why could
I never pass my damned astronavs?

Those Space Corps boys had everything.
The buttons, the blasters,

the snug elasticated jumpsuits.
They had it all!

CAT: Did you see that?

That was cool!

Do it again.

LISTER: Are you OK?

My Light Bee must have glitched.

- Look, I'm going for a look around.
- Welcome to All-Droid.

Hello? Yeah, still here. Still holding.


Don't forget me! I want one too!

This ship's got everything.
It's light years ahead of Red Dwarf.

It's even got one of these.

A greeny glowy thing.

Mm. Sir. That is a quantum rod, sir.

It acts like a magnet,
allowing the ship to star-jump.

Does it? How?

Well, quite simply, sir, it draws things
formerly connected back together,

and as everything is made of energy, and
all energy was present at the big bang,

then everything is connected.

So the rod reconnects things
light years apart,

allowing the ship to contract space/time.

Kryten, you have a real gift.

You make things that are
really, really complicated

sound really, really complicated.

It is a little sensitive, sir.

You should put it back.



What the hell was that?

MAN: This is the Columbus 3.
Do you read me? Over.

Another ship!

- This is Columbus 3.
- How do we answer it?

- Where's the comm switch?
- Do you read me? Over.

Ah, I've got it. (CLEARS THROAT)

Rog, Columbus 3.

This is former First Tech
Maintenance Division,

now Acting Commander
Captain Arnold J Rimmer

of the Deep Space Explorer Craft,
Red Dwarf.

What's happening to the chair?

I think that one is the comm switch, sir.

Why couldn't they mark it more clearly?

Someone could look a real idiot
doing that.

This is Columbus 3. Come in.
Do you copy? Over.

- We need help, and fast. Over.
- Go, Columbus. Over.

Crew dead. Main drive fragmenting.

- Do you copy? Over.
- Affirmative. Over.

Navigation locked in a death dive.

Ship will impact meteor storm in 17 hours.

This is Ship Hologram Howard Rimmer.

Can you help us? Over.

What? Over.

Your brother, sir! What are the chances?
It's extraordinary. Did the rod do this?

Ship Hologram Howard Rimmer.
Can you help? Over.

I can't meet him. How can I meet him?
He's a captain, I'm a nobody.

A vending-machine repair man. I can't
save his life, it's too embarrassing!

Trojan, confirm coordinates received.

Er...received. Over.
Sir, shall I prepare the teleporters?

I've got 15 hours to pass my astronavs,
become his equal. Then I can save him.

Columbus, we're on our way.
We'll be there in 15 hours. Over.

But, sir, we could be there
in a matter of seconds.

Kryten, as your superior officer,

I order you to erase
the last five minutes of your memory.

But, sir, that contravenes
my rights of service.

In which case, I also order you

to erase the memory of the order
I just gave you to erase it.




Lister, will you turn that damn thing off?
I'm trying to revise.

I'm getting that Stirmaster, Rimmer.
I'm not hanging up this phone.

It goes everywhere with me.
The loo, the bath, you name it.

If Kochanski walks through that door now
and wants sex,

I'll wedge it in me bum crack
and get to work.

I am not hanging up the phone.

Oh, a lateral thinking question.
I've never been good at these.

Come on, then. Come on, hit me.

Right, it's 1971.

A Swedish man crashes into a tree.

What causes the accident?

It's nothing medical.
Nothing wrong with the car.

Right, so, um... Swedish guy drives
into a tree. What caused the accident?

- Answer's in the back, right?
- Right.

Wow. It's a really hard one, that.

I mean, you've probably
got to be pretty damn smart

to get a question like that right.

You know what? I'm gonna go for a moose.

A moose? (SCOFFS)

Yeah, it was in the road.
He swerved to avoid the moose.

Are you insane? How can it be a...?

It's a moose.

Sometimes life is good.

Ah, sir, you asked me to remind you
it's ten minutes to your exam.

Ah. Kryten, a lateral thinking question.
Just got it myself.

It's 1971.

A Swedish man drives into a tree.
What causes the accident?

It's a moose, sir.
He swerves and hits a tree.

Is it me? How did you get that?

- Get what?
- I've got something for you.

- A lateral thinking question.
- A lottery what?

Ah, I knew I could rely on you.

What caused this accident?

What accident?

No, it's a question, all right?
Are you ready?

It's 1971. A man...

Was he Swedish?

- Yes.
- A moose.

It was a moose.

He swerved to avoid it and hit a tree.

Oh, the moose is on the road,
by the way, not in the car driving.

Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah!

Who am I kidding?
I'm never gonna pass this exam.

It's so unfair!

LISTER: Look at his eyes.

They're spinning beach balls of doom.
His hard disk must have crashed.

Mmm. He's completely helpless.
What are we going to do?

I say we draw a moustache on him.

It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Then we fix him.

But first, get out the felt-tips.

- Who's this?
- Oh, look, you can't do this.


- You got who it is yet?
- Oh, look, this is so wrong.

You can't do this. It's so... it's so...

It's Salvador Dali. My go!


- How long have I been out?

Three hours.

It took longer than we thought
to rub off the felt-tip.

What happened?

Well, sir, your hard drive was overrun
by a form of self-created malware, sir -

millions of unnecessary memory files
clogging up your system.

The average person
has 3,000 different thoughts a day.

He only has three.

But of your thoughts, over 60% were
you obsessing about past resentments.

Your brothers' success, your career
failure, your death, your lousy sex life.

Over the years, your system has become
so engorged with resentment,

you've had a massive data jam.

Are you saying I'm a resentful person?

I really resent that.

Probably explains
why you couldn't pass the exam.

There's no room left in your head.

So, what happens now?

Well, we've drained the resentments
and we've cleaned up your hard drive.

Oh. I feel different.

My head definitely feels roomier.

Once I lived in a tiny one-bed.
Now I'm in a barn conversion.

This is great! I can finally pass
that exam, impress Howard.

What, your brother?

We got a distress call from his ship.

I didn't want to see him
until I'd become an officer.

Howard? Wasn't he the one
in the Space Scouts

who painted your todge
with orange glow paint?

For three whole nights, I could read
Biggles Flies West under the bed sheets

without needing a torch.

When I lay on my back,

I could have doubled as a lighthouse
for really small ships.

He teased me mercilessly.

Hardly a day went by when he didn't
swirly my head down the toilet

or leave me wedgied to a door hook,
sometimes for hours.

Hey, this guy sounds amazing!

Who am I kidding? Passing this exam
isn't gonna solve anything.

So I'm an officer on board
a beat-up old mining ship.

That's not gonna impress Howard.

Extraordinary! His powers of logic and
reasoning have improved dramatically.

You don't have to impress him.

You've always had this stupid rivalry
with your brothers, haven't you?

Look what it's got you.
A hard drive full of resentment.

But now you've got a choice.
Are you gonna grow up

and let him see you
for who you really are,

or are you gonna carry on
being a lying, cheating weasel,

pretending to be something you're not?

I think we all know the answer to this.


- Coordinates locked and logged, sirs.