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Jokes Blog - thebroadroom.net: Red Dwarf quotes
Red Dwarf quotes
posted by Colleen Shirazi,
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
at 10:50 PM (Pacific)
Red Dwarf is one of my favorite tv shows of all time. If you haven't seen it, you really should...and try to catch it at the beginning (taping it if need be) because the story makes much more sense that way.
I went to imdb to find some quotes from Red Dwarf but realized, out of context, the quotes would not be as funny as, say, the Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy quotes were, out of their context.
What you need to know about the story...it's set in the future, on a mining spaceship called, appropriately enough, Red Dwarf. The two lowest members of the crew are called Lister and Rimmer. Lister gets busted for smuggling a pet cat on board the ship and goes into "stasis" as a punishment--meaning he's essentially frozen (supposed to be for six months I think).
But what happens is that the crew of the Red Dwarf are all killed, except Lister, because he was in stasis. When Lister gets out, he finds that three million years have passed, the crew (needless to say) have been reduced to tiny piles of white powder, his cat has evolved its own race of humanoid creatures...and, the second-lowest member of the crew, his supervisor, Rimmer, has been resurrected in hologram form.
So in the beginning of the show there were only four characters: Lister and Rimmer, the Cat, and the ship's computer, Holly. Holly was supposed to have been programmed with an IQ of 6,000 but it's a running joke that Holly--a computer--isn't too bright.
Later on they added Kryten, a robot programmed to serve human beings. And much later on, they resurrected the crew of the Red Dwarf including the very funny Kristine Kochanski, Lister's dream girl.
Rimmer is the central character of Red Dwarf--if only because he is so amazingly...real. Rimmer is a complete loser in every way. His middle name is even Judas. His single claim to success is being above the lowest-ranking member of the entire ship, Lister. It's the play between this character and the others that is the funniest.
Anyhow on with the quotes:
Rimmer: So what happens now? How... (sighs) how do I die?
Cassandra: Lister catches you making love to Kochanski and shoots you through the head with a harpoon gun.
Rimmer: [Slowly becomes stunned] Can you just double-check that?
Cassandra: I've seen it. It's what happens in the old laundry room.
Rimmer: So let me repeat what I think you're saying. Arnold, that's me, and Kochanski, that's the woman, the really attractive one you saw earlier; me and her are in bed giving it rizz, when Lister, that's the short dumpy one with the stupid haircut, walks in and shoots me through the head while I'm making love to Kochanski.
Cassandra: That is what's going to happen.
Rimmer: FANTASTIC.
Holly: Rude alert! Rude alert! An electrical fire has knocked out my voice recognition unicycle! Many Wurlitzers are missing from my database. Abandon shop! This is not a daffodil. Repeat, this is not a daffodil.
Rimmer: Well, thankfully Holly's unaffected.
Lister: How can you just lie back and accept it?
Kryten: Oh, it's not the end for me, sir, it's just the beginning. I have served my human masters, now I can look forward to my reward in silicon heaven.
Lister: [Stunned pause] Silicon WHAT?
Kryten: Surely you've heard of silicon heaven?
Lister: Has it got anything to do with being stuck opposite Brigitte Nielsen in a packed lift?
Kryten: No, sir. It's the electronic afterlife. It's the gathering place for the souls of all electronic equipment. Robots, toasters, calculators. It's our final resting place.
Lister: I don't mean to say anything out of place here, Kryten, but that is completely whacko Jacko. There is no such thing as 'Silicon Heaven'.
Kryten: Then where do all the calculators go?
Lister: They don't go anywhere. They just die.
Kryten: Surely you believe that God is in all things? Aren't you a pantheist?
Lister: Yeah, but I just don't think it applies to kitchen utensils. I'm not a FRYING pantheist. Machines do not have souls. Computers and calculators do not have an afterlife. You don't get hairdryers with tiny little wings, sitting on clouds and playing harps.
Kryten: But of course you do. For is it not written in the Electronic Bible, "The Iron shall lie down with the Lamp".
[They cut it off! Kryten went on to say that there was no such thing as human heaven, that that was just something that people told themselves so they would feel better about dying.]
[Here Kryten is defending Rimmer in a trial.]
Kryten: I ask the court one key question: Would the Space Core ever have allowed this man to be in a position of authority where he might endanger the entire crew? A man so petty and small minded, he would while away his evenings sewing name labels onto his ship issue condoms. A man of such awesome stupidity...
Rimmer: Objection.
Justice Computer voice: Objection overruled.
Kryten: ...a man of such awesome stupidity, he even objects to his own defence counsel. An over-zealous, trumped up little squirt...
Rimmer: Objection.
Justice Computer voice: Overruled.
Kryten: ...an incompetent vending machine repairman with a Napoleon complex, who commanded as much respect and affection from his fellow crew members as Long John Silver's parrot.
Rimmer: OBJECTION.
Justice Computer voice: If you object to your own counsel once more Mr. Rimmer, you will be in contempt.
Kryten: Who would allow this man, this joke of a man, this man who could not outwit a used tea bag, to be in a position where he might endanger the entire crew? Who? Only a yoghurt. This man is not guilty of manslaughter, he is only guilty of being Arnold J. Rimmer. That is his crime; it is also his punishment. The defence rests.
Rimmer: Need I remind you of Space Corps Directive 34124?
Kryten: 34124? "No crewmember with false teeth should attempt oral sex in zero-gravity"?
Rimmer: Step up to red alert.
Kryten: Sir, are you absolutely sure? It does mean changing the bulb.
Rimmer: There's always some excuse, isn't there?
Rimmer: What jobs are there in a backwards reality for a dead hologram and an android with a head shaped like a novelty condom?
Rimmer: What about the Rimmer Directive that states quite clearly, "Never tangle with anything that's got more teeth than the entire Osmond family"?
Rimmer: Yes, but Rimmer Directive 271 states just as clearly, "No chance you metal bastard."
Rimmer: I'm going in. I'm going in to rescue him.
Holly: Rescue him?
Rimmer: It's my duty - my duty as a complete and utter bastard.
Rimmer: After intensive investigation, comma, of the markings on the alien pod, comma, it has become clear, comma, to me, comma, that we are dealing, comma, with a species of awesome intellect, colon.
Holly: Good. Perhaps they might be able to give you a hand with your punctuation.
Toaster: Howdy doodly do. How's it going? I'm Talkie, Talkie Toaster, your chirpy breakfast companion. Talkie's the name, toasting's the game. Anyone like any toast?
Lister: Look, I don't want any toast, and he doesn't want any toast. In fact, no one around here wants any toast. Not now, not ever. No toast.
Toaster: How 'bout a muffin?
Lister: Or muffins. Or muffins. We don't like muffins around here. We want no muffins, no toast, no teacakes, no buns, baps, baguettes or bagels, no croissants, no crumpets, no pancakes, no potato cakes and no hot-cross buns and definitely no smegging flapjacks.
Toaster: Aah, so you're a waffle man.
The Cat: That's it. We're deader than corduroy.
Lister: Listen, Kryten, I've been thinkin' about this, I've come up with something.
Kryten: Yes, sir?
Lister: I'm gonna use my brains for the first time in my life.
Kryten: Considering the circumstances, sir, do you really believe that's wise?
The Cat: There's an old cat proverb that goes, "It's better to live one hour as a tiger than an entire lifetime as a worm."
Rimmer: There's an old human proverb - "Whoever heard of a worm-skin rug?"
Rimmer: We, um, should be making tracks.
Cassandra: I'm afraid that's not going to happen. The bulkhead's just given way and we're shipping water at a thousand gallons a second. All of the Canaries will be dead within one hour except for Rimmer...
Rimmer: [ecstatic] *Yes*!
Cassandra: ...who will be dead in twenty minutes.
Holly: Our deepest fear is going space crazy through loneliness. The only thing that helps me keep my slender grip on reality is the friendship I have with my collection of singing potatoes.
Kryten: This is the inquisitor. He prunes away the wastrels, expunges the wretched, and deletes the worthless.
Rimmer: We're in big trouble.
Rimmer: Look, sooner or later, we're gonna have to face the fact that we're not all gonna get out of this in one piece. Or if we are, it's gonna be one big flat piece.
Lister: And?
Rimmer: It's time we decided who's gonna take the one-man escape pod.
The Cat: How?
Rimmer: Well, if you'll just bear with me, I think I've devised a fair and equitable system of choosing who should survive. It's based on age, rank, seniority, usefulness... to cut a long story short it's me. I was as stunned as you are, which is why I demanded a recount. Well, blow me if it didn't come out as me again. Keys?
Lister: Rimmer, the escape pod is not an option.
Rimmer: Why not?
Lister: It escaped last Thursday. I was having a few beers. I didn't bother to get up, so I used the release mechanism as a bottle opener.
[Imitates sound of escape pod travelling in space]
Lister: Whoosh!
Rimmer: That's it, then! We're finished!
Rimmer: I just want to say: over the years, I have come to regard you as... people I met.
Kryten: Sir, a couple of brief points: firstly, you're not a qualified service engineer, and, consequently, sawing me in two will invalidate my guarantee; secondly, I wouldn't trust you to open a can of sardines that was already open.
Rimmer: As my father always said, "Shiny clean boots and a spanking short haircut, and you can cope with anything." He said that just before that rather unfortunate suicide business.
Kryten: Kryten personal black box recording. Time: unknown. Location: unknown. Cause of accident: unknown. Should someone find this recording, perhaps it will shed light as to what happened here. My short-term memory has been erased. This, I ascribe to the proximity of the magnetic coils from Starbug's rear engine. Secondly, due to the proximity of the magnetic coils, my short term memory appears to have been erased. This, combined with the erasure of my short-term memory, has left me a little disoriented, disoriented, disoriented.
Rimmer: Is that picture yours? It's rubbish.
Lister: It's a mirror.
Grim Reaper: Arnold Judas Rimmer, your life is over. Come with me. You will travel to the River Styx, where you will place a coin and...
Rimmer: Not today, Matey.
[knees him in the groin]
Rimmer: Remember, only the good die young.
Rimmer: You're about as much use as a condom machine in the Vatican.
Kryten: [about Rimmer] Would you describe the accused as a friend?
The Cat: Take the Fifth!
Kryten: Now, sir, if you can give an honest answer. You are under polygraphic surveillance. Would you describe the accused as a friend?
Lister: No, I describe the accused as a git.
Lister: You know the news? All the curry supplies have been destroyed.
[Cat and Rimmer point to black arm bands they are wearing]
The Cat, Rimmer: We heard!
Rimmer: As a mark of respect, I thought on Sunday at 12:00 we could have a minute's flatulence.
Rimmer: You're disgusting! You're only after me for one thing!
Arlene Rimmer: Why? How many have you got?
Lister: Six breasts? Imagine making love to a woman with six breasts!
Rimmer: Imagine making love to a woman!
Kristine Z. Kochanski: Kryten?
Kryten: Yes, ma'am?
Kristine Z. Kochanski: How long in the normal space of things would it take for Pete to pass the Time Wand out of his system?
Kryten: Strangely enough, ma'am, I don't have that information in my database. My programmers, for some insane reason, believed that dinosaur bowel movement frequency tables needn't be required. Imbeciles!
Lister: He is a good captain, though, Captain Hollister. Isn't he? On the ball; quick.
[uses his hand to warn Rimmer that Hollister is behind him]
Rimmer: [unaware that Hollister is behind him] Quick? The only time he's quick is when he's passing a salad bar.
Lister: [still pointing Rimmer to Hollister] You admire him, though, do you?
Rimmer: [still unaware of Hollister's presence] Admire him? A man who has his own cinema pick'n'mix factory in his quarters; a man who has a walk-in fridge; who lists as his hobbies chewing and swallowing?
Lister: [pointing at Hollister in agony] You did tell me once before you do respect *him*, don't you?
Rimmer: Respect him? A man whose family crest is made up of two cream buns and a profiterole; a man whose idea of a light snack... he's standing behind me, isn't he?
Captain Hollister: Yes, he is.
Bear Strangler McGee: A man who beans in the hat of Bear Strangler McGee is either mighty brave or mighty stupid. Which one are you, boy?
Rimmer: Sorry, what are the options again?
Rimmer: Maybe you haven't noticed this, but we're gonna be spending the next two years in the Brig. Two years with the scum of the universe; hardened criminals; deranged droids. People so unbalanced and debauched they couldn't even get elected as President of the United States.
Rimmer: You all think I'm a petty-minded bureaucratic nincompoop who delights in enforcing political regulations because he gets some kind of perverse pleasure out of it. And in many ways, you're absolutely damn right! But that doesn't alter the fact that the only way we're gonna down track Red Dwarf and get through this in one piece is with a sense of discipline, a sense of purpose, and wherever possible a sensible haircut.
Lister: [feeling bored after Rimmer's speech] I'm going back to bed.
Rimmer: Would it harm you to have hair like mine?
The Cat: I have got hair like yours. Just not on my head.
Rimmer: Well, I'm no stranger to the land of scoff. Perhaps you'd like to explain to me why it is that every major battle in history has been won by the side with the shortest haircut.
Kryten: Oh, surely not, sir!
Rimmer: Think about it! Why did the US cavalry beat the Indian nation? Short back and sides versus girly-hippie locks. The Cavaliers and the Roundheads, 1-0 to the pudding-basins. Vietnam, crew-cuts both sides, no score draw.
Kryten: Oh, for a really world-class psychiatrist!
Rimmer: Was there any damage?
Holly: I don't know. The damage report machine has been damaged.
Rimmer: Look, we've all got something to contribute to this discussion. And I think what you should contribute from now on is silence.
Lister: Nothing's gonna happen. We're just doing it as a precaution. The whole ship's full of fail-safes anyway. Cooling systems, containment panels, vacuum shields. The actual chances of it blowing are about one in...
[Red Dwarf's engine core explodes and totally destroys the ship]
Lister: One.
Rimmer: Gentlemen, history beckons. You'll be famous. They'll build your statues. They'll even name towns after you. "Dorksville" springs instantly to mind.
Kryten: Sir, we were so worried. What happened?
Rimmer: We were ambushed by a platoon of Lows. I was leading a valiant rearguard action.
The Cat: I found him shivering in a box.
Rimmer: It was tactical maneuver to outfox the enemy.
The Cat: As was using his uniform as a temporary latrine.
The Cat: Why don't we drop the defensive shields?
Kryten: A superlative suggestion, sir. With just two minor flaws. One, we don't have any defensive shields. And two, we don't have any defensive shields. Now I realise that technically speaking that's only one flaw but I thought that it was such a big one that it was worth mentioning twice.
The Cat: Good point, well made.
The Cat: Why don't we just break out the lasers?
Kryten: An excellent plan, sir, with only two minor drawbacks. One, we don't have a power source for the lasers; and two, we don't have any lasers.
Rimmer: I used to be in the Samaritans.
Lister: I know. For one morning.
Rimmer: I couldn't take any more.
Lister: I don't blame you. You spoke to five people and they all committed suicide. I wouldn't mind, but one was a wrong number. He only phoned up for the cricket scores.
[Rimmer owes the Outland Revenue £8,500]
Lister: Relax. It doesn't matter now, they're not gonna catch you now are they?
Rimmer: What do you mean? Just 'cause we're three million years into deep space and the human race is extinct. It means nothing to these people. They'll find us.
Kryten: They've taken Mr. Rimmer. Sir, they've taken Mr. Rimmer.
The Cat: Quick, let's get out of here before they bring him back.
Kryten: I remember Mr Rimmer screaming. I have an image of his face. Twisted with fear, pain, anguish, dread. Absolutely mortified.
The Cat: Did someone suggest that he pick up the tab for lunch?
Lister: Holly, we need your advice, mate. We've been cornered by a T-Rex that was formerly a sparrow, and the only thing that can turn it back into Woody Woodpecker is in its stomach. What's your take on the situation?
Holly: What do you want? The long or the short version?
Lister: Long.
Holly: You're finished.
[pause]
The Cat: What's the short version?
Holly: Bye.
[Lister and The Cat have discovered that the entire religion of the Cat race was based on Lister, who owned the cat who spawned the race.]
Lister: I am your god.
The Cat: Okay.
[points at his bowl of Crispies]
The Cat: Turn this into a woman.
Rimmer: Love is a device invented by bank managers to make us overdrawn.
Rimmer: I don't know what it is about me. All my life, it's been the same old story. It's not easy you know to come in every night, look in that mirror and see a guy nobody likes.
The Cat: How do you think we feel? We gotta look at it all day.
Rimmer: 10 o'clock changeover. Anything to report?
Kryten: We're still lagging behind Red Dwarf, sir. Almost 24 hours behind now. Other than that, it's been a moderately quiet shift. Except for one small shock a couple of hours ago, when we noticed an alien invasion fleet off the starboard bow. Thankfully, it turned out to be Mr Lister's old sneezes that had congealed onto the radar screen.
Rimmer: How are we fuel wise?
Kryten: Unchanged for today, sir. However the supply situation grows increasingly bleak. We've recycled the water so often it's beginning to taste like Dutch lager.
Rimmer: We're OK for food though, aren't we?
Kryten: Confidentially sir, no. We've no meat, no pulses and hardly any grain. Worse than that, the only Liquorice Allsorts left are those little black twisty ones that everybody hates. If that weren't bad enough, space weevils have eaten the last of the corn supply.
Rimmer: So what's in the grill?
Kryten: Space weevil.
[Kryten brings out the cooked weevil]
Rimmer: You can't serve space weevil, Kryten. I mean, not even Lister with his single remaining taste bud will knowingly sit down and eat insectoid vermin. Well, let's face it, with him it's practically cannibalism.
Kryten: But it's incredibly nutritious, sir. I mean, after all, it is corn fed.
Lister: There's gotta be a way out. There hasn't been a prison built that could hold Derek Custer. Why don't we scrape away this mortar here, slide one of these bricks out, then using rope weaved from strands of this hessian, we can create a pulley system, so that when a guard comes in over the tripwire, he gets laid out and we put Rimmer in the guard's uniform, he leads us out, we steal some swords and fight our way back to the Bug.
Kryten: Or we could use the teleporter.
Death: We're gonna cut you up so small the worms won't even need to chew.
Rimmer: You can't frighten me! I'm a coward, I'm always scared.
Rimmer: [points to a mark on his jaw] That is a scar.
Lister: Where'd you get that?
Rimmer: From a fight, years ago. Duel.
Lister: A duel? You?
Rimmer: Not "a" duel. Duel. The old Steven Spielberg movie. A friend of mine attacked me with the video case. Some stupid argument about who had the coolest bicycle clips. I got him back though. I peed in his mum's steam iron. He had yellow T-shirts for a week.
 
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