Rimmer: Well, if you have any more problems with nothing or things that don’t matter, just scream out my name hysterically and I’ll come pelting down the corridor!
Rimmer: 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.
Rimmer: I just wanted to say that, over the years, I have come to regard you as … people I met.
Rimmer: We’re not getting out of here in one piece, or if we do, it’ll be one big flat piece.
Rimmer: Look, I think we’ve all got something to bring to this conversation, but I think that from now on what you should bring is silence.
Rimmer: Kryten, kindly get to the point before I jam your nose between your cheeks and make it the filling of a buttocks sandwich.
(Lister and Cat are playing Scrabble. Cat lays down all seven letters across a triple-word score)
Lister: What? “JOZYXQE”? That’s not a word!
Cat: Sure it is! It’s a Cat word.
Lister: OK, what’s it mean?
Cat: It’s the sound you make when you have your sexual organs trapped in something…
Lister: Is it in the dictionary?
Cat: Well it could be, if you were reading in the nude and you close the book too fast!
mimes “close the dictionary” actionJOZZYYYXYXYXYYXAHSQukjrfQADS!!!
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.
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.
Ace Rimmer: Smoke me a kipper, I’ll be back for breakfast.
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.
Kryten: My goodness, I do believe I’m drunk. I suddenly feel the need to strut my funky stuff!
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.”
Rimmer: Yes, but Rimmer Directive 217 states just as clearly, “No chance you metal 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.
Rimmer: It’s not easy you know to come in every night, look in that mirror, and see a guy nobody likes.
Cat: How do you think we feel? We got to look at it all day.
Lister: Love is what separates us from the animals.
Rimmer: No, Lister, what separates us from animals is that we don’t use our tongues to clean our genitals.
Ace Rimmer: He’s looking so geeky he couldn’t even get into a science-fiction convention.
Lister: We’re on a mining ship, 3 million years into deep space. Can someone explain to me where the smeg I got this traffic cone?
Cat: Hey, it’s not a good night unless you get a traffic cone! It’s the policewoman’s helmet and the suspenders that I don’t understand!
Rimmer: Please rush me my portable walrus polishing kit. Four super brushes to tackle even the trickiest of sea-bound mammals. Yes, I am over 18, although my IQ isn’t.
Lister sings “Lunar City Seven”.
RIMMER: Lister, have you ever been hit over the head with a welding mallot?
Rimmer: They’ve been naughty boys, haven’t they, Mr. Flibble?
Mr. Flibble: Yes.
Rimmer: What happens to naughty boys who’ve been naughty, Mr. Flibble?
Mr. Flibble: Uncle Arnie fries them alive with his Hex Vision.
Rimmer: That’s right, Mr. Flibble.
Kristine Kochanski: I don’t know about this. I’ve never been seduced by Predeterminism Theory before.
Kryten: At 0700 hours tomorrow morning my shutdown disc will be activated and all mental and physical operations will cease.
Lister: Then what?
Kryten: I don’t know… maybe I’ll get a job as a disc jockey!
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?