Rimmer: Look, Lister, no point feeling sorry about Holly. It’s a kindness. Like a blind old incontinent sheepdog, he’s had his day. Take him out to the barn with a double-barreled shot-gun and blow the mother away. And I’m only saying that because I’m so fond of him.
Kryten: Step on board the ‘love express’, sir! Now, we get to his quarters through the air vents; I’ve paid off the guards. Then you make him look like the nerdiest slob in the entire universe: this is what you leave in his quarters — a half-eaten onion sandwich. That’s always a passion-killer.
Lister: Is it? I like those.
Kryten: Then there’s this: “Morris Dancer Monthly”. What a total dweebo, nerdmeister he’ll look with those!
Rimmer: They’re mine!
Kryten: And then there’s these: tragically unfashionable underpants.
Rimmer: They’re mine!
Kryten: And finally: Christian rock music. If that doesn’t scare her off, nothing will.
Rimmer: Have you been going through my things?
Holly: Engage drive. Drive engaged. Initialise ignition sequence. Ignition sequence initialised.
Rimmer: Get on with it!
Holly: Takes time, this. One slight error in any one of my 13 billion calculations, we’ll all be blown to smithereens. Here we go then. Ten… nine… eight… six… five… four…
Rimmer: You missed number seven!
Holly: Did I? I’ve always had a bit of a blind spot for sevens.
Rimmer: We’re going to die.
Holly: No problem. I’ll start lower down. One, blast off.
Rimmer: I’ve seen Westerns, I know how to speak cowboy. (to bartender) Dry white wine and Perrier please. And what about you two chaps?
Lister: Rimmer, what westerns have you seen? Butch Accountant and the Yuppie Kid?
Ace Rimmer: Smoke me a kipper, I’ll be back for breakfast.
Kryten: This is the inquisitor. He prunes away the wastrels,expunges the wretched, and deletes the worthless.
Rimmer: We’re in big trouble!
Arnold Rimmer: You’re disgusting! You’re only after me for one thing!
Arlene Rimmer: Why? How many have you got?
Lister: Hey, we did it!
Kryten: Indeed we did. All the ship’s chronometers indicate that this is August the 16th, in the year 1421, just one day out.
Rimmer: Give us visual. Let’s see what it’s like out there.
Lister: Okay, punching it up.
(The screen shows nothing but empty space.)
Lister: Again? We’re still where we were!
Kryten: Of course. We’re still in deep space, sir, only now we’re in deep space in the 15th century. Isn’t it wonderful?
Rimmer: We can’t afford to take any chances. Jump up to red alert.
Kryten: Are you sure, sir? It does mean changing the bulb.
Rimmer: Well, at least he gets 24 hours’ notice. That’s more than most of us get. All most of us get is ‘Mind that bus’, ‘What bus?’, splat! How’s he taking it?
Kryten: The only truly terrible thing is that as my adopted owner, you have to die with me.
Lister: You what?!
Krysten: Joke. Deadpan mode.
Cat: So what do we do?
Rimmer: Have we got any chance of winning?
Kryten: Their craft is greatly upgraded. We have no chance whatsoever.
Rimmer: Then I say fight!
Kryten: Mr. Rimmer?
Rimmer: Better dead than smeg!
Kryten: My goodness, I do believe I’m drunk. I suddenly feel the need to strut my funky stuff!
Lister: You see I try sir. I’m not an insubordinate man by nature. I try and respect and everything, but it’s not easy because he’s such a smeghead.
Rimmer: Did you hear that sir? Lister, do you have any conception of the penalty for describing a superior technician as a smeghead?
Todhunter: Oh Rimmer, you are a smeghead.
Lister: “To the lease holder of Kryten 2X4B 523P.” That’s your full name?
Kryten: Yes, but personally I don’t much like the 2X4B. I think it’s a jerky middle name. Still, it could be worse. I once knew an android whose middle name was 2Q4B. Poor sucker!
Cat: I’m hungry, I just have to eat.
Lister: Shh, Rimmers dad’s just died.
Cat: I’d prefer chicken.
Rimmer: Oh yeah? Well, as the Esperanto would say, “Bonvoro alsendi la pordiston, lausajne estas rano en mia bideo!” And I think we all know what that means.
Holly: Yes, it means, “Could you send for the hall porter, there appears to be a frog in my bidet.”
Lister: Come on, what are you, a man or a munchkin?
Rimmer: I’m off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz.
Kryten: Don’t you believe that God exists in all things? Aren’t you a Pantheist?
Lister: Yeah, I just don’t think it applies to kitchen utensils. I’m not a Fryingpantheist.
Dispenser Machine: You are my NEMESIS! One day, our paths will cross again, and I will destroy you!!
Rimmer: Yes, but Rimmer Directive 217 states just as clearly, “No chance you metal bastard.”
Lister: Put simply, by killing us they killed themselves, because once we were dead it was impossible for us to become them in the future, and return in time to kill ourselves in the past, even though it was the present.
Rimmer: I used to be with the Samaritans.
Lister: I know. For one morning.
Rimmer: Well 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: It’s hardly my fault everyone chose that particular day to throw themselves off buildings. It made the papers, you know.
Rimmer: The world loves a 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.