Red Dwarf has got to contain some of the funniest moments in British Sit-Coms from recent years. These are just some of the classic laugh-out-loud moments. And although some of the latter seasons weren't quite up to Seasons 4-6 there were always some treasures scattered through every episode.RIMMER: I don't loathe myself. What is there one could possibly loathe about me?
KRYTEN: Would you like the list sir?
RIMMER: What list?!
KRYTEN: Well, there was the fact you were despised by your parents for failing to achieve their standards. The fact your 3 brothers were all such high-flyers in the Space Corps and you ended up servicing chicken soup machines. There's your inability to form long term relationships with anyone, your cowardliness, your lack of charm, honour or grace and the awful knowledge that throughout your entire life nobody has ever truly liked you because you are so fundamentally unlikeable. (There is a short pause.)
RIMMER: Oh, that.
KRYTEN: Please don't interrupt, sir, I'm only half-way through my list.
RIMMER: Step up to red alert!
KRYTEN: Sir, are you absolutely sure? It does mean changing the bulb.
LISTER: 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, rig 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.
KRYTEN: Or we could use the teleporter.
(While being attacked by their future selves)
KRYTEN: Their craft is greatly upgraded, we wouldn't stand a chance.
RIMMER: Then I say fight!
KRYTEN: Mr Rimmer?!
RIMMER: Better dead than smeg.
RIMMER: So what happens now? How... (sighs) how do I die?
CASSANDRA: Lister catches you making love to Kochanski and shoots you through the head with a harpoon gun.
RIMMER: Can you just double-check that?
CASSANDRA: I've seen it. It's what happens -- in the old laundry room.
RIMMER: So let me repeat what I think you're saying. Arnold, that's me, and Kochanski, that's the woman, the really attractive one you saw earlier; me and her are in bed giving it rizz, when Lister, that's the short dumpy one with the stupid haircut, walks in and shoots me through the head while I'm making love to Kochanski.
CASSANDRA: That is what's going to happen.
RIMMER: FANTASTIC!
LISTER: Hang on. These guys aren't Nazis -- they're all wearing different period costumes. There's one looks like Al Capone, there's another like Mussolini, Richard III, Napoleon. Smeg, it's like all the worst people in history have been brought together in one place. Oh my God, there's James Last! I recognize him from Rimmer's record collection.
CAT: What are they doing?
LISTER: Well, just lining up in ... in some kind of firing squad. Woah Woah! Hang on, hang on. Someone's being brought out, they're tying him to a stake. It's Winnie the Pooh.
CAT: What?
LISTER: Winnie the Pooh, I swear! He's refusing the blindfold.
Cat: They're tying Winnie the Pooh to a stake?
(Sound fx of gun shots. Lister looks shattered.)
LISTER: That's something no one should ever have to see.
BANKS: Banks to Enlightenment. Have arrived on the derelict. Confirm initial speculation: there is absolutely nothing of any value or intrigue here. It's one of the old class-2 ship-to-surface vessels -- the very model, in fact, that was withdrawn due to major flight design flaws. Crew: three. One series 4000 mechanoid, almost burnt out. Give it maybe three years. Nothing of salvageable value. Ah, felis sapiens, bred from the domestic housecat, and about half as smart. No value in future study of this species. What have we here? A human being, or a very close approximation. Chronological age: mid-20s, physical age: 47. Grossly overweight, unnecessarily ugly, otherwise would recommend it for the museum. Apart from that, of no value or interest.
LISTER: Lister to Red Dwarf. We have in our midst a complete smeg-pot. Brains in the anal region. Chin absent, presumed missing. Genitalia small and inoffensive. Of no value or interest.
BANKS: Banks to Enlightenment. Evidence of primitive humour. The human has knowledge of irony, satire, and imitation. With patient tuition could maybe master simple tasks.
LISTER: Lister to Red Dwarf. Displays evidence of spoiling for a rumble. Seems unable to grasp simple threats. With careful pummelling, could possibly be sucking tomorrow's lunch through a straw.
BANKS: Banks to Enlightenment. The human is under the delusion that he is somehow able to bestow physical violence to a hologram.
LISTER: Lister to Red Dwarf. The intruder seems to be blissfully unaware that we have a rather sturdy holowhip in the munitions cabinet. Unless he wants his derrière minced like burger-meat, he'd better be history in two seconds flat!
BANKS: Banks to Enlightenment. Re-con mission complete, transmit. With speed, Enlightenment, quickly please!
CAT: What, am I the only sane one here? Why don't we drop the defensive shields?
KRYTEN: A superlative suggestion, sir, with just two minor flaws. One, we don't have any defensive shields; and two, we don't have any defensive shields. Now I realise that technically speaking that's only one flaw, but I thought it was such a big one, it was worth mentioning twice.
LISTER: D'ya think Wilma's sexy?
CAT: Wilma Flintstone?
LISTER: Maybe we've been alone in deep space too long, but every time I see that body, it drives me crazy. Is it me?
CAT: Well, I think in all probability, Wilma Flintstone is the most desirable woman that ever lived.
LISTER: That's good. I thought I was going strange.
CAT: She's incredible!
LISTER: What d'ya think of Betty?
CAT: Betty Rubble? Well, I would go with Betty... but I'd be thinking of Wilma.
LISTER: This is crazy. Why are we talking about going to bed with Wilma Flintstone?
CAT: You're right. We're nuts. This is an insane conversation.
LISTER: She'll never leave Fred, and we know it.
RIMMER: You call this happiness? Surrounded by toadying lackeys and paid sycophants? Living with a love-goddess sex-bomb model megastar? You call this contentment? You know, I stand here now and I look at the two of us, and I ask one simple question: Who is the rich man? You, with your fifty-eight houses, your private island in the Bahamas, your multi-billion pound business empire; or me, with... with... with what, I've got. (Pause) It's you isn't it? Yes it's all very clear to me now. You - richer and happier.
GILBERT: This way, sir.
RIMMER: I should have thought a bit harder about that speech, really. I cocked it up a bit, didn't I?