RED DWARF Series 6 Episode 5 -- "Rimmerworld"
1 Model. Starbug flypast.
2 Int. Starbug Medical Lab.
KRYTEN is pressing buttons on a control panel, while
RIMMER lies on a bench.
(Moving to the end of the bench) Well, that's
finished the tests sir. We just have to wait while
the Navicomp processes the results. Unfortunately
I have had to allow for the fact that you cheated
at your eye tests.
(Sitting up) What do you mean, cheated?
There's no point in lying sir. You crept in here
last night, knowing you were going to have a
medical, and you copied the eye charts onto your
I admit I might have taken a peek, but I'm a
competitive man Kryten, always have been. That's
what makes me what I am.
We're all perfectly well aware of what you are
sir. Oh, the results. (Moves over to the panel,
and returns with a small piece of card)
(Standing) Ah, everything tickedyboo?
Would you like to take a seat for a moment sir?
(Sitting on the bench) Problem?
You don't have any next of kin, do you sir?
No, they all died of heart attacks. And not just
heart attacks - aneurysms, strokes, brain clots,
you name it.
Are you of the school that, when faced with bad
news, prefers to hear that news naked and
unvarnished, or are you of the ilk that prefers to
live in happy and blissful ignorance of the
nightmare you're facing.
Ignorance, every time.
(Very cheerily) Congratulations sir! You've come
storming through your medical with flying colours.
See you next time.
Everything's OK then?
I want to know, Kryten, if there's something
If there were something wrong, sir, I would tell
Even if I'd asked you not to?
Well no. In that case I would lie and tell you
everything was absolutely peachy.
Kryten, I want to know, that's why I asked for a
medical. Is there bad news?
Lie mode cancel. Yes sir, I'm afraid there is.
(Half sitting up, clutching chest) I knew it. It's
the headaches isn't it. And the heart palpitations
and the blackouts and the chest pains and the
voices. It's something to do with that isn't it?
Sir, when you died you were recreated as a
hologram and your exact personality was refined to
an algorithm and duplicated electronically. If
that algorithm contained a flaw, that flaw would
be duplicated also.
It's not common, but it's possible for a hologram
Kryten, kindly get to the point before I jam your
nose between your cheeks and make it the filling
of a buttock sandwich.
As a result of both genetics and environment you
are particularly prone to stress-related nervous
disorders, and your activities over the past
couple of years have pushed your brain to, well
frankly beyond breaking point. (RIMMER starts
breathing heavily, and moves over to what looks
like a deep sleep booth) Your T count, which is
the hologrammatic equivalent of blood pressure, is
higher than a hippy on the third day of an open
air festival, and if you wish to avoid a gigantic
electronic aneurysm, it is imperative that you
start on a program of relaxation.
I see, and you thought that the best way for me to
start this program of relaxation was to tell me my
brains are about to explode. You've got the
bedside manner of an abattoir giblet gutter.
Here's what I suggest. Try and avoid all stressful
situations. Spend more time in your hard light
form and take a little exercise. And here (moving
over to a cupboard), try these Chinese worry balls
whenever you feel anxious or tense. (RIMMER looks
at the balls suspiciously)
(Entering) Hey, maybe some good news. Come and
check it out. (Leaves)
Er, Kryten, I don't want the others to know about
this. I want you to behave as if everything's
As you wish sir.
3 Model. Starbug approaching Simulant ship.
4 Int. Starbug Cockpit
There she blows.
Logging onto the ident computer.
(Entering, standing by LISTER's chair) What's this?
We've come across the simulant ship we totalled a
couple of weeks back. We're gonna try and board it
Is that wise sir? The scan says the superstructure
is highly unstable and could go at any time.
What if some of the simulants have survived?
There's an old Cat saying: "If you're gonna eat
tuna, expect bones."
(Back in his own seat) There's an old human
saying: "If you're gonna talk garbage, expect
Look, we'll take our chances man, OK?
No K. They're cybernetically deranged mechanical
killing machines. Not content with blasting their
ship out of the sky, you now want to go back and
steal what remains of their belongings? That's the
metaphorical equivalent of flopping your wedding
tackle into a lion's mouth and flicking his love
spuds with a wet towel. Total insanity.
Look, ever since that refrigeration unit packed in
we've had to live off a few pathetic handfuls of
moss and fungi scraped off passing asteroids. I
can't stand it any more.
Well sir, are you really saying you'd rather have
a psychopathic mechanical killer rip off your
skull and play your frontal nodes like a xylophone
than have another bowl of my nourishing space
Buddy, I'd hand him the sticks and hold up the
Lister, they are simulants. Why on Io should they
have food supplies?
Because the ident computer says they do. Look,
stocked to the gills.
(To RIMMER) It's true sir. Rogue simulants always
carry large stocks of food supplies in order to
prolong the torment of their torture victims. In
some cases, they've kept subjects alive for over
forty years in a state of perpetual agony.
If we wanted to live in a state of perpetual
agony, we'd let Lister play his guitar. We don't.
I say drive on.
Kryten, what's for dinner?
Tonight sir, asteroidal lichen stew followed by
We're going in.
5 Model. Starbug docking with Simulant ship.
6 Int. Mid section.
(To LISTER) Sir, can't you see your behaviour is
In which case we can remove him from duty as per
Space Corps Directive 1_9_6_1_5_6.
1_9_6_1_5_6? Any officer caught sniffing the
saddle of the exercise bicycle in the women's gym
will be discharged without trial? Hmm, I'm sorry
sir, that doesn't quite get to the nub of the
matter for me. (To LISTER) Sir, we have enough
thistles and weeds and cultured fungus for you to
scrum yourself stupid until the day you die. This
foolhardy trip beggars logic.
Lister, we'd be fools not to listen to him. When
is he ever wrong? Alright, he may have a head
shaped like an inexplicably popular fishing float
but he does operate from a position of total logic
and we'd be fools to ignore his sage council.
At least let me and Mister Rimmer go in your
place. We are after all merely electronic
life forms and therefore expendable.
And what the smeg would you know, bog-bot from
There's something else. I didn't want to say in
front of the Cat. (Quick shot of CAT) The reserve
fuel tank got punctured when we crashed into that
ocean moon. If we don't resupply, we're out of
power, two, three days.
(Checking a panel) But what about the readouts?
I rigged the readouts. I didn't want to cause any
You rigged the readouts! You didn't want to cause
any a.. (hyperventilates, and recovers as he
grinds the worry balls) I can't breathe, I'm
Please sir, don't panic.
It's not panic, it's a full-blown hysterical fit!
Grind those balls sir! Grind them!
(Grinding) So let me get this straight. If we
board that ship and get captured, we're finished.
However if we board that ship and don't get
captured, but the superstructure disintegrates
around us, we're finished. On the other hand, if
we board that ship and don't get captured and the
superstructure doesn't disintegrate around us, but
we can't find any fuel, we are in fact finished.
That's about the shape of it, yeah.
After you with the balls sir.
Look, we're out of options. We've got less choice
than a Welsh fish and chip shop. We've got to
board that ship, even if it is on the brink of
disintegration. Let's just pray the crew are
rotting in Silicon Hell with all the photocopiers.
Look, you three go. I'm not leaving Starbug.
Fine, that's fair enough. Unless of course
something weird and hideously ironic happens, like
while we were away you get boarded by a rampaging
torture party of crazed simulants in the rapid
grip of bloodlust fever.
I'll go and pack. (Moves to the staircase)
Bring your extra brown rubber safety pants.
(RIMMER climbs the staircase) And your hard light
remote belt, we need all the hands we can muster.
7 Model. Simulant ship.
8 Int. Corridor of Simulant ship.
If one of those suckers bumps into me, he'll be
lunching on laser, (Arms bazookoid) Last time we
met I was wearing the same outfit, and no-one's
gonna survive to tell that story.
Listen guys, I suppose now's as good as time as
any to tell you.
Tell us what?
We can't actually use the bazookoids. They're for
psychological reasons only. Look, the scan said
that the superstructure is so unstable that even a
load noise could start a shipquake. That's why I
skipped chillies for breakfast. (Reacting to the
others' stares) Why are you all looking at me like
Like I'm a nostril hair in a Spanish omelette.
Why didn't you tell us?
Didn't wanna cause any panic.
You didn't want to cause any p.. (Hyperventilates,
then slowly recovers as he grinds the balls) Let
me get this clear in my head. If we meet one of
these totally deranged killing machines, we have
to engage them in combat silently? What do we do,
whisper "charge", tippytoe up to them all
screaming "shhh" and chloroform them with Lister's
9 Int. Another corridor. The crew move carefully along,
in the order LISTER, KRYTEN, CAT and RIMMER.
(Spotting) A teleporter.
(Checking the controls) Hmmm, fully functional.
Let's grab what we can and load up.
We see LISTER and CAT loading the teleporter, and a
variety of crates materialising in Starbug's mid
section. They drop a crate. Worried faces as the noise
echoes throughout the ship.
It's not gonna hold much longer sir, we'd better
make this the last batch.
One more trip Kryten, let me get one more crate of
that red hot West Indian red pepper sauce.
In the background, the female SIMULANT from "Gunmen of
the Apocalypse" lurches through a doorway, causing more
rumbling from the ship's hull. She doesn't appear to be
in very good shape.
(Pointing her weapon at the crew) Well, if it
isn't my old friends, the human vermin, the scab
of slime, the pus-sucking, puke-laden walking
cesspits of unspeakableness.
She remembers us
Annihilated my ship, slaughtered by fellow
simulants, and you practically destroyed me. Yes,
I remember you.
(Pointing at the SIMULANT) There's one thing you
should know. Last time we met I was wearing a cute
little black number with peach trim and gold
spangles, and although it looks like I'm wearing
the same outfit today, it is in fact an entirely
different cute little black number with completely
different gold spangles.
That was an important speech sir, and it needed to
be made, but might I suggest that from this moment
the rest of the discourse is conducted by those
with brains larger than a grape.
(To LISTER) Take it away, bud.
OK, let's knock on the door and ask for Ronnie
Real. This is a classic stalemate situation. You
can't use your weapons and neither can we. Let's
chalk this one down to experience and we'll be on
our merry way, yeah? Actually, as far as psychotic
deranged ruthless killer simulants go, you're a
bit of a babe. What are you doing tonight?
Dying (Shoots ceiling. More rumbling from the
ship). Care to join me?
Behind the SIMULANT, RIMMER can be seen. He has spotted
an escape pod, and is trying to sneak into it. LISTER's
words are aimed at RIMMER, not the SIMULANT, who does
not realise this. His words become more desperate as
the conversation continues.
Hey come on, let's just talk, OK? We didn't start
any of this, and I think that maybe NOW is a good
time to sit down and parlez. (He is starting to
get annoyed) Let's not hang around, just get on
There is nothing to discuss. In sixty seconds
you'll be dead.
You can't be serious.
I'm totally serious.
I don't believe you're being serious.
I do not understand why you're having such
problems grasping this concept. I'm a totally
ruthless amoral killing machine so why, in the
name of all that's putrid, don't you believe I'm
I'm going to say this one more time. You've still
got a chance to change your mind. Think about it,
everything we've been through, does none of that
mean anything to you?
RIMMER launches the escape pod. The corridor collapses
onto the SIMULANT.
Cheers Rimmer! He's started a shipquake!
The superstructures disintegrating!
The teleporter! (They all step onto the teleporter
I must warn you sir, the teleporter's not
calibrated for human tissue. There's a twenty
percent chance you'll be turned inside out when
Let me check my lining. Innards and lavender, I
can carry that off.
10 Int. Mid section.
As LISTER, KRYTEN and CAT materialise, we see the PAST
CREW seated around a table.
Don't you remember sir? This is a week last
Thursday. In the panic I must have made a
(Standing) For goodness sake Kryten! Don't you
know how rude it is to burst in on an earlier
version of yourself without warning? You've made
our day totally surreal now. I'm very cross!
Pardon my paradox. It's just that the simulant
ship you're about to encounter
(Interrupting) We don't know what we're about to
encounter. Don't compound your temporal faux-pas by
telling us our future.
Where's the rangy, handsome one?
What, you? You scarpered in that escape pod, you
slimy, triple-faced, back-stabbing Judas.
Ah, I'm safe then? Thank God for that.
(To PAST RIMMER) Don't talk to them! (To KRYTEN)
You see what you've done now! Just get back to
your own damn time line!
Here we go then.
Well, be you later.
LISTER, KRYTEN and CAT dematerialise.
11 Int. Starbug mid section.
Let's get out of the landing bay. It's gonna blow!
12 Model. Starbug taking off from the Simulant ship, which
13 Int. Cockpit.
All in all, a hundred percent successful trip.
Sir, we lost Mister Rimmer!
All in all, a hundred percent successful trip.
Can't believe he did that, not even Rimmer.
Sir, I didn't get the opportunity to tell you
before, but earlier today I discovered that Mister
Rimmer is suffering from a stress-related nervous
Next time I see him he'll be suffering from a
fist-related teeth disorder.
14 Model. Escape pod disappearing into the distance.
15 Int. Cockpit.
RIMMER appears on a monitor, looking rather pleased
My escape plan worked then?
What escape plan?
The valiant plan whereby I set off the
disintegration of the ship's hull by bravely
leaping into the escape pod thereby creating a
diversion, so you could (pauses) Actually, how did
Well, the teleporter.
That wasn't the only way, but as good as any I
suppose. Still, I'm sure no-one's forgetting the
sheer manliness and stiff-upper-lippedness of the
diversionary part of the plan and to hasten with
all speed the recovery of the modest hero of the
Actually, Flash, that might be a bit of a problem.
What do you mean?
You're accelerating away from us - way above our
I've logged into your ident computer sir. Rogue
simulants looted the pod from a colonisation
seeding ship constructed in the 25th Century.
There are no controls as such, it is programmed to
take you to the nearest planet with an S3
How long is it going to take to get me back?
(Checking a scanner) Ah well, let's see shall we,
checking the local area. Er, no, nothing there.
Going to mid-range. Er, still nothing. Going to
long range ... long, long range ... long, long,
long range. Ah, here we have it, just computing.
Well? How long?
Have you still got those Chinese worry balls sir?
Well start grinding them like you've never ground
Let me tell him Kryten.
(Smiling) A year and a half.
That's ridiculous! You've got to find a way of
getting me back.
Well we could try to bring you down with a round
from a laser cannon, sir.
Form an orderly queue behind the gun-sight.
Sir, there are no other options.
(Spotting something on a scanner) Wait!
Something's happening! Course change!
(Checking his own screens) Check. Your guidance
system's found a nearer S3 planet. It's taking you
through that wormhole at 4_9_5_3_7_2.
Ah, that's a lot better. You should make
planetfall in four days.
Isn't there some kind of a time dilation problem
when you go through a wormhole?
Well, yes there is. Since you're travelling
through a compressed space, time will move more
swiftly for the object passing though the
wormhole. One minute on this side of the wormhole
will represent many years on the other.
So, is that good?
Balls on standby sir.
More than a year and a half?
Er, yes sir, a little more.
How much more?
Well, let's not beat around a bush, a lot more.
Kryten, that's still beating around the bush. Just
Well, remember that medieval war sir, that lasted
quite a long time.
The Thirty Years War?
No, not that war sir, the other one.
The Hundred Years War?
Now take that figure, and multiply it by six, and
then you'll come up with your golden number sir.
Six hundred years!
(Disbelief) Pinch me!
We're losing contact, any minute.
Six hundred years with just myself as company,
I'll go raving mad!
There's and old Cat saying, but you don't want to
hear it right now.
On the upside, according to your inventory the
pod's stocked with solar accelerators. That should
keep your hard-light drive going as long as you
And as the pod was looted from a seeding ship,
there may even be emergency terraforming equipment
on board, possibly even with a genetic capability.
But I'll never survive, I'm not the Robinson
Crusoe type. I'm lousy at woodwork, I'm no good in
the wild. Do you know, when I was at school it
took me five terms to make a tent peg? How long's
it going to take me to build a two storey home
with running water and a balcony stroke sun patio?
Six hundred years! I won't even have finished
planing the wood!
Losing contact, any second. See you in eight
One last word sir, remember your condition.
Whatever happens, try and avoid stressful
situations. Whatever befalls you, try and greet it
with a smile on your lips and a song in your
You are a total, total, complete and utter, total,
total, complete and utter total... (fades out)
16 Model. Pod entering wormhole.
17 Int. Cockpit
Well, he's gone.
So, what do we do now?
Nothing we can do, I know for a fact there's no
On our side of this time dilation phenomena it
will appear as if Mister Rimmer has gone for just
a few hours, but from Mister Rimmer's point of
view, he will have to wait six entire centuries
for us to reach him.
To hell with the champagne, we can celebrate with
18 Model. Pod in atmosphere. This is followed by a montage
of images, following RIMMER's monologue.
This is the personal log of Space Corps hard-light
hologram Arnold J. Rimmer. Day 1: After landing, I
ventured forth to explore the place I would be
calling home for the next two thirds of a
millennium. A desert planet, the only life forms
the most basic single-celled protozoa, and me.
Relationships would be difficult, but not
impossible. I repaired to the pod, to appraise the
supply situation. The pod had indeed been looted
from a seeding ship. Among the supplies I found
two strange devices, labelled "Eco-Accelerator
Rockets". I held out little hope that they might
improve my lot, but launched them anyway. For six
days and nights the entire planet was wracked with
storms, the like of which I had never witnessed
before or since. Then, just as suddenly, they
stopped. In just six days I had created my own
world, lush and verdant. I had created
"Rimmerworld". I was Adam, in my own Eden, and
only one thing was missing, my own Jane. As I
studied the pod's textbooks, my excitement grew.
It seemed entirely possible for me to create a
fully grown female clone, using my own DNA as a
template. This of course created the most enormous
moral dilemma. Technically, she would be my sister,
and therefore unable to take me as her lover.
After much soul searching, I reluctantly decided,
"What the hell", I just wouldn't tell her. After
months of careful nurture, the cocoon cracked.
Something had gone hideously wrong - the clone was
just an identical copy of me. I went back to the
manuals, and tried again...
19 Model. Starbug entering wormhole.
20 Int. Starbug cockpit.
There she blows, an S3 planet.
Navicomp locked. Entering atmosphere.
21 Model. Starbug in atmosphere.
22 Int. Cockpit.
Got something. Try quadrant four-niner-seven-two.
According to the scan, there's lifesigns.
Confirmed. Thousands of them. Either Mister Rimmer
had the incredible good fortune to land on a
populated planet, or...
It's too hideous to contemplate.
Preparing to land.
23 Ext. Woodland on "Rimmerworld". LISTER, CAT and KRYTEN
are seen walking through the woodland.
Wait, nasal alert!
What, are you getting something?
I sure am. My nasal hairs are quivering like an
opera singer's bosom on the high notes.
'RIMMER' GUARD 1
'RIMMER' GUARD 2
'RIMMER' GUARD 3
Never have I seen such a hideously formed and
un-naturally freakish deviant.
'RIMMER' GUARD 4
Silence mutant! How dare you stand there and
address a norm using that face. It's a revolting
insult against nature.
This might sound like a bit of a corny line, but
(pauses) can't even bring myself to say it.
Take us to your leader.
Oh sir, how could you!
Let the great one judge them. (The GUARDS escort
the crew away)
24 Int. Throne room. The 'RIMMER' EMPEROR is seated upon a
throne, with concubines at his feet. The back of the
throne consists of a large 'H' sculpted out of a
circular piece of stone. LISTER, CAT and KRYTEN are
guarded by 'RIMMER' GUARDS.
Who disturbs our royal snooze?
Rimmer? It's us.
Dear lord, what created such foulness. Is it the
product of a marriage twixt woman and gerbil?
Do you remember? Six hundred years ago? We used to
be your ship mates, we've come to save you.
We found them in the woods, your flared-
nostrilness, and have brought them here to be
tried as travesties.
(Whispering to LISTER) That ain't goalpost-head,
he doesn't smell right.
(Also in a whisper to LISTER) Agreed, he scans as
organic, not hologram. the 'H' is an affectation.
Possibly it has become a symbol of power.
These deformed monsters are no sight for my
concubines. My treasures of pulchritude, run
along. (He gestures to one) Avert your eyes from
her great beauty. (Uncovers her face, which turns
out to also be that of RIMMER, and kisses her. She
covers herself, and he clears his throat. We see a
GUARD uncovering his face) Let the trial begin,
before my jacuzzi water grows tepid.
These three abominations stand charged on eight
counts of gross deviancy. Not content with not
looking like the true image, they flaunt freakish
behaviour such as charm, bravery, compassion and
Are there no sighs of normalcy in these wretches?
No cowardice or pomposity, no snideyness or smarm,
not even basic honest-to-goodness double-dealing
Sire, these creatures did not even attempt to sell
each other out for their own freedom - they lack
even the most basic natural drives.
How do you plead?
Er sir, we wish to speak to the hologram known as
(Arrogantly - very over the top) I am he!
Not so, we are seeking the creator of your race,
the father of your people, the first true Rimmer,
the template for your species.
Enough of this heresy. At the stroke of dawn take
them out and kill them. And when you've killed
them, burn the bodies, then bring me the cold
ashes on a silver plate, with a glass of chilled
(To LISTER) This guy's an animal. Doesn't he know
it's red wine with cold ashes? (The GUARD escorts
them away, pushing CAT in the process).
25 Int. Dungeon. LISTER, CAT and KRYTEN see a figure
huddled in the corner under a blanket. He is grinding
extremely small worry balls with his fingers.
Smell checks out. That truly is old toilet-brush
Of course, I remember. (Pointing at each of them
in turn) Custer! Derek Custer! Kit! Titan!
What's happened to him bud?
How long have you been in here sir, in this
godforsaken pit from hell. (RIMMER points at the
wall, where he's been marking the days) Speed
count mode. (Scans the wall) Five hundred and
fifty seven years?
What! You've been stuck in this cell all this
Can you imagine a society composed entirely of me?
I'm trying not to. The last time I did that it
took a week to dry the mattress.
Thousands upon thousands of back-stabbing
treacherous hypocritical cowardly slime-mongering
Judases. They overthrew me. When they found out
they couldn't damage my hard light drive, they
locked me in here so I could never threaten their
insane lust for power.
Look bud, I can understand them locking you up,
but what have they got against me, Derek and
Anyone who deviates from the template is reviled.
The smallest physical flaw and they're banished
from society, and anyone who displays behaviour
deemed out of character or un-Rimmerlike is
punished by death.
Is that why no-one on the planet is brave, sexy,
noble or charming?
All crimes here.
Man. I must be Public Enemy numbers one, two and
But sir, don't they realise the only way any
society can evolve is through mutations in the
gene pool. When there is no richness or variety,
congenital disorders and inherited lunacy are
commonplace. Who can forget the famously insane
European monarchies of the nineteenth and twentieth
Oh what have I created?
Your very own personal hell.
Well, fun though its been hearing about your last
five hundred years of total misery, shouldn't we
be making skedaddle plans? I for one could not
bear the prospect of being burned alive. Flames
and peach! Ooh, I'd rather die.
Have you tried escaping Rimmer?
The whole planet is populated with back-stabbing
slimeballs. The minute I got out, I'd be sold back
(Moving to the cell window) There's got to 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 a rope weaved from strands of this
hessian, rip up a kind of a pulley system so that
when a guard comes in, using it as a trip wire,
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.
Or we could use the teleporter.
Or, at a pinch, we could use the teleporter.
26 Int. Starbug mid section. As they materialise, we see
the FUTURE CREW, bar the FUTURE LISTER, sitting at a
Oh, I've done it again. Two anomalies in one day,
I must have accidentally tapped into the previous
Sorry about that, it's just that we're escaping
Don't tell them that, they don't want to know the
future. Poor old Rimmer doesn't want to know he's
going to get persecuted for six centuries by a
load of his own clones.
Careful bud, for a minute there I thought you were
going to let slip that he spends the next five
hundred and fifty seven years locked in a dungeon.
I'm saying nothing man, don't want to spoil the
Rimmerworld was weeks ago. We're far more
concerned at the moment about the quite hideous
thing that's happened to Lister.
He's right bud, where are you?
Yeah, where am I? I wanna know!