by Ganymede & Titan
Series 2 - Thanks for the Memory - All scenes
(DRAMATIC "2001"-TYPE MUSIC)
Three million years from Earth,
the mining ship Red Dwarf.
Its crew: Dave Lister,
the last human being alive;
a hologram of his dead bunkmate,
and a creature who evolved
from the ship's cat. Message ends.
Additional: supplies are plentiful. We have
enough food and drink to last 30,000 years,
although we have run out of Shake 'n' Vac.
Last week, we found a planet
with a breathable atmosphere.
(HEAVY ROCK MUSIC)
We're grooving tonight.
Ahead, groove factor five. Yeah!
Hang on, everybody. Hang on!
- The sausages are done.
- (ALL CHEER)
It's the business, innit?
It's nice to get out once in a while, stretch your cables.
(SLURRING) I can't understand it
I've had so much to drink
and it hasn't even afflicted me. I'm not in the least bit...
- Oh, yeah, why are you dancing, then?
- Ha! You call that dancing?
I've seen people on fire move better than that!
- We'd better be going. The moons'll be setting in a bit.
- OK, then, a toast.
Gentlemen, and skutters,
we are gathered here today
to celebrate the anniversary
of Mr Arnold Rimmer's death.
(BURPS) Right on, baby!
And for this very special occasion,
I have baked a cake.
What's that, then?
It's in the shape of a spanner,
Holly, because he was a technician.
Oh, that's very apt that is.
If he'd have been a postman, you'd have baked
it in the shape of an envelope, I suppose?
It's lucky he's not a gynaecologist.
- To Rimmer!
- To me!
# Happy deathday to you.
# Happy deathday to me.
Happy deathday to you
# Happy deathday, dear Rimmer
# Happy deathday to you #
(BANGING AND SCRAPING)
# Show me the way to go home
# I'm tired and I want to go to bed... #
(RIMMER) Are you sure you're all right to drive?
# I had a little drink about an hour ago
# To celebrate Rimmer's death #
What time is it?
- Is that the best you can do?
There are some numbers next to it,
but they could be anything.
Do you know what I fancy right now?
A big fat woman with thighs the size of a hippo's.
No, I want a triple fried egg butty
with chilli sauce and chutney.
Well, no problem then. Nothing's
too good for the deathday boy.
- Hol? Hol?
- Hol, give us something to eat.
- You what? I'm jiggered, man.
- Oh, come on. You don't sleep?
- 'Course I do.
I've got to offline. I can't keep up my full-tilt,
full-power, red-hot, maximum pace all the time.
I've got to take the odd breather, haven't I?
- I want a triple fried egg sandwich with...
- With chilli sauce and chutney.
- You what?
- It's state of the art sarnie.
It's the state of the floor I'm worried about.
All right. OK.
I feel like I'm having a baby!
- It's good, innit?
- It's incredible.
- Where did you get the recipe from?
- I can't remember.
I think it was a book on bacteriological warfare.
It's like a cross between food and bowel surgery.
It's well naughty. The trouble is, you've
got to eat it before the bread dissolves.
I could never invent a sandwich
like this, Lister.
You see, all the ingredients are wrong.
The fried eggs, wrong. The chutney, wrong.
The chilli sauce, all wrong.
But put them together
and somehow it works. It becomes right.
It's you. This sandwich, Lister, is you.
- What are you saying to me, Rimmer?
- You're wrong, right?
All your ingredients are wrong.
You're slobby. You've got no sense of discipline.
You're the only man ever to get his money
back from the Odour Eater people.
But people like you. Don't you see?
That's why you're a fried egg,
chilli, chutney sandwich.
Now me... now me. All the ingredients are right.
I'm disciplined. I'm organised.
I'm dedicated to my career.
I've always got a pen.
Result? Total smeghead despised
by everyone except the ship's parrot...
and that's only because we haven't got one.
- Why? Why is that?
- I suppose it's because you are a total smeghead.
But I'm not. I'm a nice guy. I'm a goodie.
No, Rimmer, see the trouble is you've never got time for people.
You're too busy trying to be successful.
It's all midnight revision
and "Up, up, up the ziggurat, lickety-split".
I have got time for people! What about all the time I spent licking up to Todhunter,
even though he was a total gimp?
And Captain Hollister? Mr Fat Bastard 2044.
I went out of my way to simp around him.
Rimmer, that's not having time for people.
Do you know how many times
in my entire life I made love?
- No. I don't want to know.
- I want to tell you.
- I don't want to know!
- But I wanna tell you.
- I don't want to know!
- I'm wanna tell you! I'm gonna- I am gonna tell you
- I wanna tell you...
- Listen. Listen, Rimmer. if you tell me, right?
You'll wake up in the morning and you'll have
your hangover, and you'll feel like death,
and you'll walk up to the mirror, and you'll look
in the mirror and you'll remember and go..."Arghh!"
See? It's not worth it. I don't want to know.
Believe me. You. Don't. Want. To tell me.
One time only.
Don't tell me this, Rimmer, you'll want to kill yourself in the morning.
A single brief liaison with the ship's
female boxing champion.
March the 16th. 7.31 pm to 7.43 pm.
- Twelve minutes...
- And that includes the time it took to eat the pizza.
In my entire life, I have spent more time being sick.
So? I mean, you haven't met the right girl yet.
No, I haven't, Lister! I haven't met
the right girl, and some just might say -
given the fact that the human race
no longer exists,
coupled with the fact that I have passed on -
some just might say that I'm
leaving it a little bit on the late side.
Well, you made a decision, didn't you? I mean,
you chose your career over your personal life.
Yes, I did! I did, didn't I?
Pearls of wisdom there
from Mr Fried Egg Chilli Chutney Sandwich Face.
well, I'll tell you something, Lister.
I'll tell you something.
I'd trade it all in - all of it.
My pips, my long service medals,
my swimming certificates,
my telescope, my shoe-trees.
I'd trade everything in to be loved
and to have been loved.
# I'm a little lamb
# Lost in the wood
# Maybe I could
# Really be good
# With someone to watch over me #
That was going to be our song,
but I never found anyone to share it with,
so now it's just my song.
Another bit of sky. That's a star.
(TRUMPETS 'PETER AND THE WOLF')
Ah, my foot! I must have gone to sleep on it.
You were putting it away last night, Lister
You really fell for my joke, didn't you?
(GROANS) God, it's agony!
That McGruder gag. Fancy falling for that, eh?
I'll give you my telescope, anything.
Please God don't tell anyone.
Have you done that?
When did you do that?
I didn't! I just went to bad,
and I've just woken up with this!
- When did you finish the jigsaw?
- I didn't.
Oi! Who's been messing with my star charts?!
Here I am trying to do the comprehensive -
nay, definitive - A-Z of the entire Universe,
with street names, post offices and little steeples and everything,
and some git's been fiddling with it.
It's not us.
OK, which one of you chimpanzees did this?!
Look, there's a perfectly logical explanation for everything,
with the possible exception of Little Jimmy Osmond.
- Hang on. Today's Sunday, right?
Well, this clock says Thursday.
and that clock says Thursday.
And my foot says get the person
who did this to my foot!
Four pages have been torn out of me diary.
- Solmehow, we've lost the last four days.
- Did you look behind the fridge?
If you lose something, it's nearly always there.
What are you talking about, grease-stain?
It's a well-documented phenomenon.
They kidnap you, give you a mind probe,
erase your memory and put you back.
- OK, aliens came aboard.
- Without question.
- They broke my leg.
- For some reason.
- They broke MY leg.
- And then they did a jigsaw.
Well, that's cleared that up, then.
Look, you're not thinking alien.
That's what aliens are - alien.
They do alien things. Things that are... alien.
Maybe this is the way they communicate.
By breaking legs?!
- And doing jigsaws?
- Why should they 'speak' the way we do?
- They're aliens.
- OK, Professor, what does it mean?
Maybe... Maybe... OK.
Breaking your leg hurts like hell, OK? "Hell."
They do it below the knee. "Low."
"Hell-low." Get it?
They do it twice. Twice. Two.
And jigsaw must mean you. "Hello to you."
I wouldn't like to be around when one
of these suckers is making a speech!
Hang on. The black box. Holly, the black box
will have recorded everything, won't it?
Yeah. Hang on. I'll fish it out.
It's gone! It's been half-inched.
Wait a minute. Let me think about this.
It gives off a signal. We can trace it.
(LISTER) It's the gearbox, man. I'm telling you.
- Nothing yet.
- This is impossible. It could be anywhere.
It's like trying to find a fart in a jacuzzi.
Look! Down there on that moon.
(LISTER) Are you getting a picture now?
Yeah, but the quality's terrible.
It's like watching Spanish television.
(LISTER) Oh, my God!
(CAT) What the hell is that? Holy...
Er, Holly, start the engines. Warm her up.
Keep her ticking over, yeah? Er, what is it?
(LISTER) A footprint the size of a surfboard.
(CAT) I don't believe the size of these guys feet!
Can you imagine the problems this guy
must have trying to get fashionable shoes?
(LISTER) I wonder if it's true what they
say about the size of your feet,
I mean, if it is, then this guy should probably go
to a fancy dress party as a petrol pump.
I think you should come back.
(LISTER) There's more of them, they lead round this corner.
So a surfboard foot-sized monster
came aboard, did a jigsaw,
drained our memories and broke a couple of legs. So what?
Forgive and forget, that's what I say.
(LISTER) This I don't believe!
It's a gravestone.
"To the memory of the memory of Lise Yates."
- Who's Lise Yates?
- You're not going to believe this,
but I used to go out with
a girl called Lise Yates.
It's only shallow.
The black box is buried in the grave.
- Right, it's loaded.
- (AS BOGART) Well, play it, Sam.
I don't know if anyone will ever find this,
but if they do and it's you, Dave,
or you, Arnold, don't ever play it.
Some things are best left buried.
- Why have you frozen him, Hol
- You heard what he said
- Knows his stuff, that dude.
- Come on, Holly. From Saturday night.
(RIMMER) Do you know how many
times in my entire life I've made love?
Yes, we all remember this bit.
Spin on, spin on, spin on!
(LISTER) Another bit of sky. A star...