On the morning of Febuary the 26th, at 0800 hrs, did engage in conversation with second technician Rimmer, Arnold J...
For crying out loud, Rimmer!
- the outcome of which was a proposal by the aforementioned Lister to the aforementioned Rimmer to cook him breakfast.
Okay, I'm getting the picture.
Breakfast comprised of two eggs, three rashers of bacon, a grilled tomato, two sausages, a small portion of fried potatoes... and a large quantity of mushrooms. Having consumed this repast, second technician Rimmer, Arnold J. experienced what can only be described as a "voyage to trip-out city". To whit, a major hallucinogenic fit.
No, sir. I'm sure it was only one egg.
The aforementioned Rimmer, to whit, me, then attended inspection parade. He was totally naked except for a pair of mock-leather driving gloves and some blue swimming goggles. Under the influence of this psychadelic breakfast he went on to attack two senior officers, believing them to be giraffes who were armed and dangerous
Cat [to Rimmer]: What is it?
It's a rent in the space-time continuum.
Cat [to Lister]: What is it?
The stasis room freezes time, you know, makes time stand still. So whenever you have a leak, it must preserve whatever it's leaked into, and it's leaked into this room.
Cat [to Rimmer]: What is it?
It's singularity, a point in the universe where the normal laws of space and time don't apply.
Cat [to Lister]: What is it?
It's a hole back into the past.
Oh, a magic door! Well, why didn't you say?
Look... In three million years, you'll be dead.
PRPast Rimmer
[mock surprise]: Oh, will I really?
Yes, unless you do something about it now.
PRPast Rimmer
Oh, and what do you suggest I do, then? Eat less white bread? More roughage?
I was in love once. A Sinclair ZX81. People said, no, Holly, she's not for you. She's cheap, she's stupid and she wouldn't load, well, not for me anyway.
What are you trying to say, Hol?
What I'm saying, Dave is, it's better to have loved and lost than to listen to an album by Olivia Newton-John.
Anything's better than to listen to an album by Olivia Newton-John.
Sir, I wish to place on record that third technician Lister, David-
Quicker than that, Rimmer.
-smuggled aboard the mining vessel Red Dwarf a consignment of a hallucinogenic fungi Titan Mushrooms, more popularly known to the Space Beatnik community as "Freaky Fungus".
On the morning of February the 26th, at 0800 hrs, did engage in conversation with second technician Rimmer, Arnold J...
For crying out loud, Rimmer!
- the outcome of which was a proposal by the aforementioned Lister to the aforementioned Rimmer to cook him breakfast.
Okay, I'm getting the picture.
Breakfast comprised of two eggs, three rashers of bacon, a grilled tomato, two sausages, a small portion of fried potatoes... and a large quantity of mushrooms. Having consumed this repast, second technician Rimmer, Arnold J. experienced what can only be described as a "voyage to trip-out city". To wit, a major hallucinogenic fit.
No, sir. I'm sure it was only one egg.
The aforementioned Rimmer, to wit, me, then attended inspection parade. He was totally naked except for a pair of mock-leather driving gloves and some blue swimming goggles. Under the influence of this psychedelic breakfast he went on to attack two senior officers, believing them to be giraffes who were armed and dangerous.
You'd better have a good reason for this, Lister.
I thought it'd be a laugh.
Right. Two weeks PD, Lister. Dismissed.
With respect, sir, the penalty for a crime of this nature is fifteen years imprisonment.
Rimmer, I said dismissed.
[salutes] With respect, sir, you've got your head right up your big fat arse!
Listen, man, I'm sorry about those mushrooms, you know. I mean, I didn't know... I'm not totally reckless and irresponsible, for God's sake. I mean, when it comes down to it, I'm a pretty straight and honest geezer.
I nicked them. They were in a locker. They must have belonged to Headbanger Harris.
Don't much, but this is good.
I didn't know you sent secret love letters to Carol McCauley.
Lister, that is my private, personal, private diary; full of my personal, private, personal things.
I don't believe it! You've been reading it to the Cat?
[reading] "Carol McCauley, your eyes are like two limpid pools in the mornings".
"Your hair is like a golden waterfall".
"Plus, those short skirts you wear make me really horny"?
