Red Dwarf Episode Scripts

N/A - Stoke Me a Clipper

I simply cannot believe you're going to go through with this, sir.
I'm a man, Kryten, with a man's urges, and a man's desires.
Well what about an ice-cold shower, sir? I've used up this year's water supply with ice-cold showers, Kryten.
I was looking at the log this morning: a 112 gallons! If I carry on like this my libido's gonna cause a drought.
You think this is the answer? Look, I know how it may look from the outside - Going into an AR simulation with a book of cheats, and seducing the Queen of Camelot? Words fail me.
It's quite the most unchivalrous thing I've ever heard in my life! Are you my faithful manservant or what? I'm ashamed to be with you, sir! I haven't been this embarrassed since I was loosening my adjustment screws, and my entire groinal box dropped into Mr.
Rimmer's soup.
Is there any man, across the length and breadth of our great land, that dare challenge the King's best knight? I do, sir! And you are, sir? Lister, of Smeg.
Good knight, do you accept this challenge from 'Lister of Smeg'? I do, my King.
And what do you claim if the victory should be yours, my lord? I claim nothing, sire.
Serving the king is reward enough.
And you 'Lister of Smeg', what prize do you claim if you should defeat my best knight? I claim, my lord, a night and a day in the bed of your good lady 'A night and a day in the bed of my good lady'? We accept the challenge Do we? Oui, we do.
My lady, I think we should discuss this matter in private Do you not have faith in your good knight, to cut this dog down where he stands? I do! Sort of.
Then we accept.
Good knight - bring me this knave's manhood on a silver platter 'Ey, steady! then disembowel him, and feed his innards to the crows! This is worse than playing away at Leeds! When mah lace 'ankerchief, flutters onto ze ground, the challenge shall commence! I just lurve that accent rrrrrrarrr! If I were you, Mr.
Galahad, sir, I'd concentrate on memorising your cheats book.
Cheat one: codeword 'steadcheat' Haa! I claim my prize, my lord.
You are the scurviest knave in Christendom! And I swear to you: your scheme to seduce my fair lady will not succeed! Cheat 2: codeword 'chastitycheat' Scum! Absolute scum.
If he that calls himself Lister of Smeg has a grain of honour in his soul, that tent will part this very instant and he will return to me my lady, and beg the King's forgiveness! Has anybody got any whipped cream? 'Whipped cream'? Ace, we need to find a dimension close by.
Understood, computer.
Prepare to jump.
Hey! What's happening? Power failure, sir! Electrics are going down.
The red, green, and blue alert signs are all flashing! What the smeg is happening? Well, either we're under attack, sir, or we're having a disco.
I'm locked out! Everything's dead! Steering's down, thrusters are down and we're heading straight for that ion storm in sector 12! Morning! What the smeeee is going on? A power drain is knocking out all the generators! Cause? An object of such awesome power and charisma it's flattened all the grids! At first I thought it was me; turns out it's some kind of craft Dimension Jumping.
Any ident details? The last time we came across a lunatic trying to pull a stunt like this it was 'Captain Smug Git' himself: 'Ace Rimmer'.
Dear God, don't make it be him, I couldn't bear it.
This is the JMC transport ship 'Starbug' opening channels, please identify yourselves.
Well, I said I'd be back for breakfast, how're those kippers doing, fellas? Ace, buddy! How're you doin'? All the better for seeing you, Cat old friend.
Is that a new suit you're wearing? Why, it's sharper than a page of Oscar Wilde witticisms that have been rolled up into a point, sprinkled with lemon juice and jabbed into someone's eye.
Wow, that's sharp.
Thanks buddy! According to the log we're down to our last 3000 vomit bags.
It'll never be enough.
Ace - good to see ya! How're you doing? Never better, Skipper.
Sorry to DJ so close; ship's computer made a minor calculation error.
Poor thing's got a bit of a crush on me; it doesn't know what day it is.
So, what have you been up to, sir? Nothing special.
Saved a couple of universes, overthrown a few dictatorships, turned down a heapful of marriage proposals, and had my highlights done.
What a guy! Off! So, what's new with you chaps? Arnie? I've been pretty damn busy myself, actually.
I'll take you to the guest quarters, bud; we can catch up! For starters you can tell me the name of your stylist! Thanks Cat, but with your driving skills, you should be at the helm.
Incidentally, it's AstroCuts, in the Theta sector, Dimension 24.
Ask for Alfonce.
Yeoooowww, yeeah! Arnie, up for a stroll? Thanks for the offer, but I'd rather smear my genitalia with fish paste and dangle them in a pool of hungry piranhas.
I'll take that as a 'no', then.
Oh Rimmer, go with him.
I don't want to.
But, sir, he wants you to.
And I want him to choke to death on his own smug gittyness.
We don't always get what we want.
But Rimmer, he asked for you.
He obviously feels some sort of bond.
The only 'bonding' I want to do with him involves a tube of superglue and a rabid hamster! Oh all right.
I'm going.
God! Okay, allow me to show you to your sleeping quarters.
They're about fifty yards down there on the right.
Bye! I think - I may need some help here, Arn.
I knew it! You pretend to be a big shot while they're around, but as soon as no-one's watching you're as butch as an ice-skater's friend.
What's the problem? Travel sickness? The strap on your padded codpiece too tight again? Sorry to sound so damn melodramatic but, I'm afraid I'm on the way out.
You're what? About to visit the great airfield in the sky.
Lose all my breathing privileges.
You're dying? You've got it, Arn.
Your brain moves quicker than a nun's first curry.
You're really dying? Arnie, I want you to become the next Ace Rimmer.
I mean it, Arn! Are fevered rantings one of your symptoms? The universe needs a chap to look up to.
Someone to right wrongs, just generally be brave, handsome and all-round magnificent.
And you think, I'm your man? It's your destiny, Arnie.
What, to wind up looking like a reject from a Gay Pride disco? You're just afraid, old son.
Afraid that you're not good enough.
You've always wanted to play the hero.
I'm not you.
I think we established that in your last visit.
I'm not the Ace you met last time, Arnie.
He caught the business end of a neutron tank in Dimension 165.
I'm a hard light hologram, just like you.
Ace is dead? I took over from him, and I want you to take over from me.
My god! What *is* that stuff? Light Bee's been hit pretty bad, it's a power leakage.
Electro-magnetic radiation; I haven't got long.
About the time I usually like to spend making love, say, 12 hours, maybe less.
After that I'll be too weak to train you.
What do you say? It's part of the legend, I'm not the first Ace, not even the second.
There have been, well, let's just say 'more than a couple'.
As one Ace dies, he recruits his replacement from a parallel dimension; we all start off as caterpillars and turn into butterflies.
We're talking about a man who, at the first sight of danger, cowers under tables with a colander on his head.
Skipper, you can't judge a book by its cover.
And you can't confuse Rimmer with a book; for a start a book's got a spine.
Let me train him, that's all I ask.
Talk to him; persuade him.
What is it? What's the joke? Nothin', nothin'.
Well clearly it's not 'nothing'.
Clearly you've just heard something terribly amusing, clearly.
It's just that Ace has just told me about trying to get you to be the next Ace Rimmer.
Yes, sadly I've got to sort out my shoe collection, or I'd have jumped at it like a shot.
It's just, you, y'know? The next Ace The very idea.
It's not so ridiculous, Lister! Other versions of me have turned into him.
In fact, if I wasn't needed around here so badly, I think I'd very likely take him up on it.
Rimmer, don't take this the wrong way, but how could you be the next Ace? I mean, you're a gutless, spineless, gormless, direction-less, neurotic, underachieving, sniveling, cowardly pile of smeg.
No offence, but get real, man; most eunuchs have got more balls than you.
Well *that*, my fine, madras-guzzling friend, is where you are wrong, because I've taken Ace up on his offer, and training begins .
right now.
Er, why have you brought me here? Take a look around, Arnie.
The plateaux, the summit.
This is where you must be to become Ace Rimmer.
No, this where you must be to become Maria Von Trapp.
Just concentrate! Feel the wind on your face; *be* the wind, Arnie.
Unleash the wild power you know lurks inside you.
Be the cougar running free and unfettered through the mountains.
Be the what? Come on, man, you can do it, concentrate! See the cougar, Arnie? It's you; can you see it? Err, sort of.
Oh, I'll never be Ace! We tried, we failed! I give up.
All your life you've given up.
Well, maybe after more training! I can't keep up the dog and pony show any longer.
It's now or never.
What's that? Light Bee Remote.
If you can fool your crew-mates into thinking you're me, we'll know you're ready.
But I'm not ready! Try it the other way around.
"The name's Rimmer," Oh, this is ridiculous.
Ah, Mr.
Ace, sir.
Everything okay? What? Er, yes, Kryten.
Uh-huh, yeah, everything's fine.
Are you sure, sir, you sound a little different? Errr, could you be more specific? Er, 67% more weasely.
Eeeeerrrrrrr, sore throat, er, sore throat.
Er, um, bug going around, a holographic virus.
But it affects humans too.
Arnie's got it.
I've quarantined him for twenty-four hours; no one's to go near him.
Ah, I was just wondering, sir: we've run out of bacofoil about six months ago; I don't suppose you have a spare jacket I might roast a chicken in? Listen, you stupid, jumped-up little son-of-a Ohhhhhhh! Sorry, old friend; afraid not, catch you later.
I bid you good day, my lord.
I come in search of the knave called 'Lister of Smeg'.
Now wait a minute, old friend, let's just stay calm, shall we? Are you one of his household? Errr, in a manner of speaking Then prepare to die! Let's talk about this shall we, over a pot of tea and some toasted muffins? Okay, how about some scones and clotted cream? Dundee cake? Battenburg? My God! I did it! So far - so good.
I did it! That's the most heroic thing I've done since I set fire to Stinky Bateman's turn-ups in third from prep! Well done, Arnie; you've done us proud.
Smoke me a kipper I'll be back for What's happenin', bro? What's happened to goalpost head? No, you don't understand.
It's not me, it's him.
Sir, you're in shock.
The trauma has made you speak like Mr.
What happened? Ah, one of them knights has escaped from the AR machine.
It's killed Rimmer.
*Isn't that right, Ace*? We should give Rimmer a decent send-off, y'know.
It's the least he deserves.
I just can't believe it.
Neither can I.
I was only insulting him just this morning.
Poor Mr.
I haven't felt this wretched since Spare Head #3 told me the others held a poll, and voted me the 'big-eared, ugly one'.
Decided what you're gonna do? I thought I'd stick around here for a bit.
"Get the hang of the character, as it were".
What's that? Ace asked me to fit it.
Said it would take his coffin to its 'final resting place', alongside all the other Ace Rimmers.
He's left some more beacons behind for the Ace's that follow you.
I'm getting cold feet, Listy.
I'm not sure I can go through with it.
Leave, I mean.
Be Ace.
You heard what he said; it's your destiny.
It's my destiny to be a smug, self-satisfied git? Okay, so he was a bit full of himself, but you can be a different *kind* of Ace, it's up to you.
Look, he said if you got cold feet we should follow the coffin.
He said it might make you change your mind.
We are gathered here today to say our final farewells to Mr Rimmer.
On occasion he was a small-minded, bureaucratic, incompetent, cowardly little person, er, but he also had his good qualities.
Those *were* his good qualities! To say something about the finer side of his nature, I'd like to turn now to Mr Lister.
Alexander the Great's chief eunuch has finally joined his master.
The man who kept his underpants on coat-hangers and sewed name labels into his ship, issue condoms has gone.
Life will never be the same.
We have lost the finest, the most dedicated vending machine repair man the Space Corps - no, no - the universe has ever known.
No one ever pressed for a Coke, and got oxtail soup and orange juice by mistake on his shift, well, actually, that's not true: we all did but what the smeg, this is his eulogy.
He didn't have very many friends, but those that he did have were with him at the end.
Even Rachel, who I suppose in many ways is his widow.
See ya smeg 'ead.
Later, bud.
Goodbye Mr.
Smeeee Heeee.
Bye, Ironballs.
Finally this: When Rimmer originally died aboard Red Dwarf, Holly brought him back as a hologram, to keep me sane, never an easy task.
He succeeded spectacularly, and for this accomplishment, we award him this: Kryten, place First Officer Rimmer's decoration into the coffin.
Right away, sir.
Gentlemen: First Officer Rimmer.
First Officer Rimmer.
All those Rimmers They all did it.
They all became Ace; passed on the flame.
Are you really gonna be the one to break the chain? It's been a blast, fellers.
Bye, man.
Bye, dude.
Au revoir, Mr Ace, sir.
Stoke me a clipper, I'll be back for Christmas.
Just had to say one last goodbye! Seeya, Davey boy.
Yeah, good luck, man