RED DWARF Series 1 Episode 4, "Waiting For God"

1 Ext. View of space.

HOLLY: (In space) This is an SOS distress call from the mining ship Red

Dwarf. The crew are dead, killed by a radiation leak. The only

survivors were Dave Lister, who was in suspended animation during the

disaster, and his pregnant cat, who was safely sealed in the hold.

Revived three million years later, Lister's only companions are a life

form who evolved from his cat, and Arnold Rimmer, a hologram simulation

of one of the dead crew.

(Returning) The most interesting event that happened recently was that

Lister pretended he passed the chef's exam, although really he failed.

That gives you some idea of how truly exciting some days can be around


2 Int. Drive room.

RIMMER walks in.

RIMMER: Holly, give me access to the crew's confidential reports.

HOLLY: Those are for the Captain's eyes only, Arnold.

RIMMER: Fine. Well, we'll give him ten seconds to come back from the

dead, and if he hasn't managed it, we'll presume I'm in charge.

(Waits) No, he hasn't managed it.

HOLLY: (With resignation) Whose do you want?

RIMMER: Give me ... give me Lister's. Just the remarks.

HOLLY: David Lister, Technician, 3rd class. Captain's remarks: "Has

requested sick leave due to diarrhea on no less than 500 occasions.

Left his previous job as a supermarket trolley attendant after ten

years because he didn't want to get tied down to a career. Promotion

prospects: zero."

RIMMER: I always liked Captain Hollister. Such a great reader of men,

was Captain Hollister. A marvellous, marvellous man and a tragic loss

to us all. All right, Holly, give me ... give me mine.

HOLLY: Arnold Rimmer, Technician, 2nd Class. Captain's remarks:

"There's a saying amongst the officers: If a job's worth doing, it's

worth doing well. If it's not worth doing, give it to Rimmer. He

aches for responsibility but constantly fails the engineering exam."

RIMMER: Whoa, whoa, whoa, Holly, Holly. I want *my* report. Rimmer.

Two M's, E, R.

HOLLY: "Astoundingly zealous. Possibly mad. Probably has more teeth

than brain cells. Promotion prospects: comical."

RIMMER: No no no no no, Holly. I want *Rimmer*. That's two R's, one at

the front, one at the back.

HOLLY: Arnold, this *is* your report.

RIMMER: I always hated that pus-head Hollister. He always resented my

popularity. That's why he never put forward my proposal to reduce the

minimum haircut length by an eighth of an inch. Small-minded, petty-

thinking modo.

HOLLY: Arnold, I'm picking up an unidentified object.

RIMMER: Constantly fails the exam? I'd hardly call eleven times

"constantly." I mean, if you eat roast beef eleven times in your life,

one would hardly say that person constantly eats roast beef. No, it

would be a rare, nay, freak occurrence. Possibly mad? What is he

dribbling about?

HOLLY: It's on the screen, Arnold.

RIMMER: What is?


RIMMER: What is it?

HOLLY: I don't know.

RIMMER: Well, you'd better find out, hadn't you? It's obviously beyond

me. I've got more teeth than brain cells, remember? (Leaves in a


HOLLY: (After he's gone) Yes, you have.

3 Int. Sleeping quarters.

LISTER is lying on his bunk, eating crisps and making a mess. He's

sniffing noisily at a book marked CAT DICTIONARY.

TOASTER: Would you like some toast?


TOASTER: Some nice hot crisp brown buttered toast?


TOASTER: You don't want any toast then?


TOASTER: What about a muffin?

LISTER: Nothing!

TOASTER: You know the last time you had toast? 18 days ago. 11:36,

Tuesday the 3rd. Two rounds.

LISTER: Ssshhh!

TOASTER: I mean, what's the point of buying a toaster with artificial

intelligence if you don't like toast?

LISTER: I *do* like toast!

TOASTER: I mean, this is my job! This is cruel! Just cruel!

LISTER: Look, I'm busy!

TOASTER: Oh, you're not busy eating toast, are you?

LISTER: I don't want any!!

TOASTER: I mean, the whole purpose of my existence is to serve you with

hot, buttered, scrummy toast. If you don't want any, then my existence

is meaningless.


TOASTER: I toast, therefore I am.

LISTER: Will you shut up?!

He goes back to sniffing his way through the book. RIMMER enters.

RIMMER: What are you doing?!

LISTER: I'm reading.

RIMMER: What? With your nose?

LISTER: Yeah. It's a Cat book. They don't use marks, they use smells.

You run your nose along the line and all the different smells are

released. It's really good.

RIMMER: What a pathetic idea.

LISTER: Well, unlike you, Rimmer, my mind is open to new cultures, and

new ways of looking at and doing things.

RIMMER: And what does it say?

LISTER: It says, (reads as he smells along the pages) "See [sniff] Dick

[sniff] run. [sniff] Run, [sniff] Dick, [sniff] run. [sniff] Run

[sniff sniff sniff] home [sniff] Dick."

RIMMER: That's the Cat equivalent of Shakespeare, is it?

LISTER: Shakespeare? Who's Shakespeare?

RIMMER: You moron. A playwright in the olden days. Wilfred Shakespeare.

LISTER: I'm only just starting out. This is for three year olds, so you

should try it.

RIMMER: I'm not the slightest bit interested in smelling anything cats

have to say, thank you, Lister.

LISTER: You don't know what you're missing. Rimmer, there's this

brilliant one where Dick buys this ball, this big ball, this big red

ball. It's amazing stuff.

RIMMER: You ought to try reading your shirt sometime, Lister. It's

probably a novel by Victor Hugo. Anyway, if you're interested, Holly's

spotted... Is that my shirt?!

LISTER: Yeah. I borrowed it.

RIMMER: What's that down the front?

LISTER: (Checking the various stains) That's definitely biscuit, um,

that's custard, that's definitely ink, and just general sort of dirty


RIMMER: You can't just go through my possessions!

LISTER: Come on, you don't need them any more.

RIMMER: Because I'm dead?

LISTER: Yeah. You're a hologram, and holograms don't need clothes.

RIMMER: They're my things, Lister! Would you steal verruca cream from a

man with no feet? I mean, how would you like it if I stole your T-

shirt? Your favourite one, with the custard stains down the front?

LISTER: I wouldn't care.

RIMMER: You've got no right to go through my wardrobe.

LISTER: OK, OK. You keep your underpants on coathangers, don't ya?

RIMMER: That's private!

LISTER: OK, Rimmer, OK. Take the shirt back.

RIMMER: I don't want it. It's ruined. You've *sweated* in it.

LISTER: Well, if you don't want the shirt, what do you want, Rimmer?

RIMMER: Just keep out of my things, all right?

LISTER: OK, OK. What's Holly spotted?

RIMMER: An unidentified object.

LISTER: You mean a rock.

RIMMER: It might not be.

LISTER: They're always rocks.

RIMMER: Mostly they're rocks, I agree, but maybe this one's different.

LISTER: Rimmer, there's nothing out there, you know. There's nobody out

there. No alien monsters, no Zargon warships, no beautiful blondes

with beehive hairdos who say, "Show me some more of this Earth thing

called kissing." There's just you, me, the Cat, and a lot of floating

smegging rocks. That's it. Finito.

RIMMER: Lister, if there's no one out there, what's the point in

existence? Why are we here?

TOASTER: Beats me. Do you want some toast?

HOLLY: Arnold, the unidentified object is now in visual range.

RIMMER: (Executing a Full-Rimmer salute) All right, Holly. I'm on my


RIMMER marches out. LISTER tries to imitate the salute, and clouts

himself a painful one on the forehead.

4 Int. Corridor.

CAT climbs out of a ventilation shaft and does a somersault.

CAT: Aaaoooww! Nice jump. Heeyyy! Smooth with a capital smoo. OK.

Time to get out the food detector. (Reaches inside his jacket and

pulls out an imaginary food detector) Food ... this way. Aaaooowww ...

ooohhh ... yeah yeah...

And so on. Eventually he runs into RIMMER.

RIMMER: Ah. You. Where have you been?

CAT: Investigating. Investigating this, investigating that. General


RIMMER: General investigation, eh?

CAT: Yeah.

RIMMER: Ahhhh, splendid!

CAT: Thank you.

RIMMER: Keep it up.


RIMMER: Fine. Well, ah, if you'll just excuse me.

CAT: Hey! You can't have my shiny thing! I found it, it's my shiny


RIMMER: What are you dribbling about?

CAT: (Pulls out a silver yo-yo) This is my shiny thing, and if you try

and take it off me, I may have to eat you.

RIMMER: It's a yo-yo, you modo.

CAT: It does two amazing things. One, you have the shiny thing at the

top, and the string down below, or, and this is the clever part, you

have the string at the top, and the shiny thing down here where the

string used to be.

RIMMER: Yeah ... woweeee! You haven't the slightest clue what it's for,

do you?

CAT: Why sure I do, grease stain. You hold the shiny thing in one hand,

and you go ... aaaooowww! The string's moving! Hey! Stop that thing!

Catch that string! Aaaooowww!

RIMMER wanders off, leaving the CAT playing with his shiny thing.

5 Int. Drive room.

RIMMER enters.

RIMMER: Where is it?

HOLLY: (VO) It's in scoop range, Arnold.

Several monitors show wire-frame views of a cylindrical object tumbling

through space.

RIMMER: It's a pod! Holly, bring it in!

He dashes madly off.

6 Int. Sleeping quarters.

LISTER is sitting on his bunk. CAT enters, carrying a book and waving

his yo-yo around.

CAT: Yeah, yeah, yeah! I'm back! Feeling good! (To LISTER) Feed me.

LISTER: Cat, hi. I haven't seen you for ages. Where have you been?

CAT: Investigating.

LISTER: Got you some crispies.

CAT: Yeah, yeah, yeah!

LISTER: I read the book you gave me, you know. It's got a brilliant

ending. I could hardly believe me nose.

CAT: Oh, forget that. Got you this. The one you asked about. The Holy


LISTER: Oh, great! (Opens the book and begins to run his nose across

it.) Hey! Pictures!

CAT: Yeah! That's a Cat thing. You see, sometimes, in a book, we have a

drawing of something that is happening in the story, and we call them


LISTER: Yeah, yeah, we have pictures too.

CAT: Hey, you monkeys are smarter than I thought.

LISTER: This is me!

The picture depicts a noble-looking individual, vaguely resembling

Lister, wearing biblical-style robes and carrying a black cat (an

ordinary cat, not a humanoid cat) on his shoulder. Above his head is a

doughnut-shaped halo.

CAT: No, that's not you, that's Cloister. He was the father of the Cat

people. He lived years ago, at the Beginning.

LISTER: (Turns the page) Who's that?

The next picture shows the same guy (without the cat) sitting lotus-style

inside what seems to be a giant ice cube.

CAT: That's him frozen in time.

LISTER: No, that's *me*! I was sent into stasis. That's what "frozen in

time" is.

CAT: He did that to save Frankenstein.

LISTER: Look, Frankenstein was my pet cat! (Points back and forth

between himself and the picture) Look, Lister, Cloister. Cloister,

Lister! See?

CAT: Listen, you stupid monkey, Cloister's another name for ... for God!

LISTER: That's what I'm saying! I am your God!

CAT looks LISTER up and down. He's not impressed. (Well, who would be?)

CAT: OK. (Points to his bowl of crispies) Turn this into a woman.

LISTER: I'm serious.

CAT: So am I!

LISTER: Look, Frankenstein was my pet cat, right? And she was pregnant.

Now, I got put into suspended animation. I was supposed to be there

for 18 months, but I didn't get out for three million years.

CAT: You oversleep? So do I.

LISTER: No! What I'm saying is that over those three million years, your

entire race of people evolved from my pet cat.

CAT: Ah, I gotta go now, man. But let's do lunch sometime. I'll put it

in my diary: 12:30, lunch with God. And, ah, formal dress, you know

what I'm saying?

LISTER: It is true, you know.

CAT: Yeah? Then I gotta ask you the ultimate question. If you're God,

why that face?

LISTER: What's wrong with me face?

CAT: What's wrong with your face? It's upside down and inside out,

that's what's wrong with it. Aaaooowww! (Leaves the room.)

LISTER: Holly?

HOLLY: Yes, Dave?

LISTER: If I give you my Cat dictionary, can you translate this for me?

HOLLY: Oh, I'll give it a go, Dave.

TOASTER: Why are you always asking him? I'll do it.

LISTER: You're a toaster.

TOASTER: Yeah, I was thinking of packing it in. It's turning me into

something I don't like. I'm not a moaner by nature, you know.

LISTER: No, by nature you're a toaster.

TOASTER: Yeah, it just strikes me that there might be something more.

Something greater. Something unimaginably more splendid than heating


RIMMER dashes in, very excited.

RIMMER: Lister, it's arrived!

LISTER: What has?

RIMMER: The U.O.! It's a pod!

LISTER: Where?

RIMMER: The observation room.

LISTER: Yes! (Dashes off.)

RIMMER: (Calling after him) Ah, no point in running, Lister. It's mine.

I found it. I've got bagsies. (To himself) He's such a child, that

boy. (Suddenly he sprints off after LISTER.)

7 Int. Observation room.

LISTER is peering through a window at the pod, which is in an isolation

chamber. It's black, with some illegible red markings, and covered in

dust. A monitor show's HOLLY's face.

LISTER: Is it safe, Holly?

HOLLY: Yes, Dave.

RIMMER dashes in.

RIMMER: Lister, no point in running. I found it and it's mine.

LISTER: Calm down. Dead people can have heart attacks too, you know.

What is it?

RIMMER: I don't know. It's obviously some sort of alien capsule, and

clearly they're intelligent, Lister. Ah, the chance to meet an

intelligent life form, after 18 weeks alone with you.

LISTER: OK, Mr. Intelligence, what are those markings?

RIMMER: I don't know. I don't speak alien, you gimboid.

Behind his back. LISTER goes to the door of the isolation chamber and

enters it. Eventually RIMMER notices.

RIMMER: What are you doing, Lister? We don't know if it's safe! It's

quarantined! You might get some squiggly, slimy thing stuck to your


LISTER: (From inside the chamber, looking out through the window at

RIMMER) Of course it's safe. Come in, come on, come in. Ahh--

Contorted in agony, he presses his face to the window. Gasping for air,

he slides down the window, leaving a trail of saliva. Ugh.

RIMMER: Ha ha ha. Tee hee. All right, Lister, we'll play it your way.

But don't think you're coming out of there! You're in there for a

month. You're in quarantine.

LISTER: (Opening the door and stepping out) What did you say, Rimmer?

RIMMER: Why do you never do what I tell you? Don't you think there's a

shining good reason why I'm your superior?

LISTER: Yeah. You've been with the company for 15 years--

RIMMER: No it's not.

LISTER: --And I've been with them for eight months.

RIMMER: No it's not. It's because I'm better than you. Better trained,

better equipped, better ... better! Just, just better.

LISTER: That must mean the rest of the crew are better than you then.

RIMMER: No it doesn't! It means ... I'm not going to let you bait me,

Lister. This is far too important. Just you wait here, keep that door

closed till I get back with the skutters. Tyke.

RIMMER leaves. LISTER, ignoring his orders, goes back into the chamber

to have another look at the pod.

LISTER: Oh, Rimmer, he's such a smeghead, man. (Looks at the markings)

Hang on a minute!

He brushes some of the dust off them, and begins to complete broken

letters by writing in the dust with his finger.

LISTER: Give me an R, give me an E, give me a D ... give me a Red Dwarf

Garbage Pod! Holly? Did Rimmer never work in waste disposal?

HOLLY: No, Dave.

LISTER: It's one of our Red Dwarf garbage pods with, like, the writing

burnt off in places. Why didn't you tell him?

HOLLY: Well, it's a laugh, innit?

LISTER gleefully picks up a handful of dust and scatters it over the pod

to obscure the writing again.

8 Ext. Red Dwarf in space.

RIMMER: (VO) 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


RIMMER: Shut up.

9 Int. Sleeping quarters.

LISTER is snoring on the top bunk, RIMMER sitting on the bottom one.

RIMMER: Lights!

The lights come on.

RIMMER: Lister, are you awake? Lister? Lister? (Stands up and shouts

in LISTER's ear) *LISTER!!!!!*

LISTER sits bolt upright.

RIMMER: Are you awake?

LISTER: Yeah, yeah.

RIMMER: Yeah, I couldn't sleep either. The excitement!

LISTER: What excitement?

RIMMER: The alien excitement!

LISTER: Rimmer, it's garbage.

RIMMER: You can scoff, Lister. That's nothing new. They laughed at

Galileo. They laughed at Edison. They laughed at Columbo.

LISTER: Who's Columbo?

RIMMER: The man with the dirty mac who discovered America.

LISTER: What makes you think these aliens exist?

RIMMER: They must do, Lister! There's so many things that are strange

and odd. So many things we don't have any explanation for.

LISTER: Like, um, why do intelligent people buy cinema hot dogs? Do you

mean that sort of weird and mysterious thing?

RIMMER: No, Lister, I mean like the pyramids. How did they move such

massive pieces of stone without the aid of modern technology?

LISTER: They had massive whips, Rimmer. Massive, massive whips.

RIMMER: All right, then, the Bermuda Triangle. Go on, explain that one.

You know all the answers.

LISTER: No, I agree there. That is a genuine mystery. How did a song

like that ever become a hit? It defies all reason.

RIMMER: I just don't know why I bother. I'd get more sense out of a

squashed hedgehog. Lister, don't you ever stop and wonder: why are we

here? What's the grand purpose?

LISTER: Why does it have to be such a big deal? Why can't it be like,

like, human beings are a planetary disease? Like the Earth's got

German measles or facial herpes, right? And that's why all of the

other planets give us such a wide berth. It's like, "Oh, don't go near

Earth! It's got human beings on it, they're contagious!"

RIMMER: So you're saying, Lister, you're an intergalactic, pus-filled

cold sore! At last, Lister, we agree on something.

LISTER: What do you believe in, then? Do you believe in God?

RIMMER: God? Certainly not! What a preposterous thought! I believe in

aliens, Lister.

LISTER: Oh, right, fine. Something sensible at last.

RIMMER: Aliens, Lister, with technology so far in advance of our own we

can't even begin to imagine.

LISTER: Well, that's not difficult. Mankind hasn't even got the

technology to create a toupee that doesn't get big laughs.

RIMMER: Aliens, Lister, who can give me a real body.

LISTER: Ooohhh, I can't wait to see your face in the morning, I really


RIMMER: And nor I yours, Lister. When that pod opens and from it emerges

a beautiful alien woman with long green hair and six breasts.

LISTER: Six breasts?! Imagine making love to a woman with six breasts!

RIMMER: Imagine making love to a woman!

10 Int. Drive room.

LISTER enters, yawning, and goes over to the food machine.

DISPENSER: Good morning. How can I help you?

LISTER: Bonjourno. Um, give me breakfast.

DISPENSER: What would you like?

LISTER: Uh ... chicken vindaloo ... and a milkshake.

DISPENSER: What flavour milkshake?

LISTER: Um ... beer.

The dispenser produces a food container and a glass of some brownish


HOLLY: Morning, Dave. I've finished your translation.

LISTER: Who's Cloister? Is it me?

HOLLY: Yes, Dave. The Cats have made you their God.

LISTER: Hey! Working class kid makes good!

HOLLY: Your plan to buy a farm on Fiji and open up a hot dog and doughnut

diner has become their image of heaven.


HOLLY displays a picture from the Holy Book, showing the noble, biblical,

sort-of-Lister standing on a mountaintop, reading a scroll to the black

cat. HOLLY reads from the book in voice-over.

HOLLY: "And Cloister spake, `Lo, I shall lead you to Fyushal, and there

we shall open a temple of food, wherein shall be sausages and doughnuts

and all manner of bountiful things.

The picture changes to one showing the pseudo-Lister standing in front of

a sausage and doughnut cart on a beach, with palm trees.

HOLLY: "`Yea, even individual sachets of mustard. And those who serve

shall have hats of great majesty, yea, though they be made of coloured

cardboard and have humorous arrows through the top.'"

LISTER: Does it say what happened to the rest of the Cats?

HOLLY: Holy wars. There were thousands of years of fighting, Dave,

between the two factions.

LISTER: What two factions?

HOLLY: Well, the ones who believed the hats should be red, and the ones

who believed the hats should be blue.

Another picture, showing the holy wars. It looks like a scene from the

Bayeaux Tapestry. Incidentally, the artist stuffed it up -- both sides

are wearing red hats!

LISTER: Do you mean they had a war over whether the doughnut diner hats

were red or blue?

HOLLY: Yeah. Most of them were killed fighting about that. It's daft

really, innit?

LISTER: You're not kidding. They were supposed to be green.

11 Int. Corridor.

LISTER is walking along.

LISTER: Go on, Hol.

HOLLY: Well, finally they called a truce, and built two arks and left Red

Dwarf in search of Fyushal.

LISTER: But there's no such place as Fyushal. It's Fiji. I mean, how

are they supposed to find it?

HOLLY: "And Cloister gave to Frankenstein the sacred writing, saying,

`Those who have wisdom will know its meaning.' And it was written thus:

`Seven socks, one shirt--'"

LISTER: That's my laundry list! I lined the cat's basket with me laundry


HOLLY: The Blue Hats thought it was a star chart leading to the promised


LISTER: Well it wasn't, it was my dirty washing.

12 Int. Sleeping quarters.

LISTER arrives in his quarters.

LISTER: What happened next, Hol?

HOLLY: "And the ark that left first followed the sacred signs, and lo,

they flew straight into an asteroid.

Another picture. This one shows red Dwarf in space, with two arks (they

look like boats with rocket engines stuck on the back) leaving it in

different directions.

HOLLY: "And the righteous in the second ark flew ever onward, knowing

they were indeed righteous."

LISTER: This is terrible. Holy wars. Killing. They're just using

religion as an excuse to be extremely crappy to each other.

TOASTER: So, what else is new?

13 Int. Observation room.

RIMMER is directing the two skutters, who are drawing complicated

diagrams and writing long reports about the pod. LISTER enters.

RIMMER: I'm not interested.

LISTER: And they killed each other over which coloured cardboard hat to


RIMMER: I'm not interested.

LISTER: But don't you think it's amazing?


LISTER: You know what happened to people who didn't eat hot dogs on

Fyushal Day? They were stoned to death by stale doughnuts.

RIMMER: Lister, what do you want me to say? "Congratulations, you're


LISTER: I'm talking about the suffering. People died, I mean cats died,

Cat people died.

RIMMER: You've just come here to rub my nose in it. I could have been

God, you know, given a different start in life, given the lucky show-

biz break you had.

LISTER: I don't want to be a god. That's the point.

RIMMER: Oh, vomitisation! I don't believe it! "I'm God, but it's a bit

of a drag, actually?" Come on!

LISTER: I'm not a god! I've just been ... misquoted.

RIMMER: Lister, for my money, anyone who goes around reading meaning into

any old gobbledygook deserves everything they get.

LISTER: I mean, if I'd had eight socks on my laundry list instead of

seven, or if I owned more than one pair of underpants, they might have

been safe. I just wish I could meet them and explain and apologise.

RIMMER: Well, that would look spectacular, wouldn't it, Lister? God

returns in all his splendour, and says, "Sorry, it's all been a total


LISTER: I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to become their God.

RIMMER: Well, I didn't ask to be killed, Lister. Life's a bitch. Now

smeg off, I'm busy.

LISTER: I mean, they just made stuff up, you know. I'm supposed to have

given them five sacred laws. Five sacred laws! I've broken four of

them meself. I'd have broken the fifth, but there's no sheep on board.

RIMMER: Bye-bye.

LISTER: I mean, Rimmer, what sort of Holy Writ is this, Rimmer: "It is a

sin to be cool."

RIMMER: (Suddenly loses his temper) Look, I'm sick of hearing about these

stupid cats! My concerns are slightly more meaningful than what

coloured stupid smegging cardboard hat I'm wearing! I'm trying to

decipher this! This is science, laddie! You can smirk, Lister, but I

believe the Quagaars--

LISTER: Quagars?

RIMMER: Quagaaaars! It's a name I made up! Double A, actually! I

believe the Quagaars have the technology to give me a new body!

LISTER: Never mind this tot, where's the Cat?







RIMMER: Tot?!!

LISTER: Tot!! (Leaves.)

RIMMER: (Shouting after him) We'll soon see how totty it is, laddie, the

quarantine period's nearly up! Bastard!

14 Int. Corridor.

LISTER is riding his 3-wheeler.

LISTER: Cat? *Cat!* (Toots his horn.) Holly, where's the Cat?

HOLLY: He's no longer in my supervision field, Dave.

LISTER: He's gone down to the cargo decks.

HOLLY: I lost him as he entered supply pipe 28.

LISTER gets off his bike and shouts down a ventilation shaft.

LISTER: Cat? *Cat!*

15 Int. Another corridor.

LISTER: Cat! Come on, kitty, kitty! Meow ... meow ... come on, kitty

... come on, Cat, the crispies are getting warm ... come on, Cat...

16 Int. Cargo hold.

Everything is covered in dust and cobwebs. There's an improvised altar

(a filing cabinet with some cat figurines and candles on top), a big

statue of Cloister (wearing a doughnut on his head), and a bed, on which

an old, blind Cat priest wearing red robes and hat (complete with arrow)

lies. The other CAT (the one we know) is there too.

CAT: Aaaooowww, yeah yeah yeah yeah, (to the figurines on the altar) Hey

fellas! Yes sir, I'm back! Feeling good! (To the priest) Feed me.

PRIEST: You're always leaving me! Where do you go?

CAT: Investigating! See, I have these feet--

PRIEST: I'm dying.

CAT: I'm telling you about my feet! My investigating feet.

PRIEST: Don't you hear me?! I'm dying.

CAT: Yeah. But I'm telling you about my feet.

PRIEST: Oh, why should you listen to me, a blind old priest that's lost

his faith.

CAT: I'm not listening to you. I'm trying to tell you about my feet.

PRIEST: What do you care?

CAT: I don't care! You're the one who's doing the dying, not me. Why

should I let it spoil my evening?

17 Int. Corridor.

The corridor is dusty and cobwebby. LISTER is still looking for the CAT.

LISTER: Cat? ... Cat?

He pushes on a grille marked "Supply Pipe 28" and falls through it.

LISTER: (Picking himself up) Oohh. Cat, when I get you I'm going to turn

you into a kebab. Holly? Can you still hear me?

No answer.

LISTER: Cat...?

18 Int. Cargo cathedral.

PRIEST: Here. (Takes his hat off.) Burn the sacred hat.

CAT: That's a fearsome hat.

PRIEST: Burn it, burn it! It's a symbol of the lies.

The CAT takes the hat and puts it on. Meanwhile, LISTER's face appears

at a window.

CAT: It's burnt.

PRIEST: All my life I've served a lie. Because you're not there,

Cloister, are you? You've never been there! YOU DON'T EXIST!

In the antechamber, LISTER has grabbed one of the golden doughnuts off

the head of a statue of Cloister and put it on his own head. As the

priest shouts his disbelief, LISTER pushes open the doors.

PRIEST: Who's that?

LISTER: It is I, Cloister!

PRIEST: (To CAT) Who is it, boy?

LISTER: I told you, it's me, Cloister. I've returned from the dead.

PRIEST: Is it him? Is it truly him? Does he look like a king?

LISTER quickly grabs one of the giant golden sausages that line the

entrance and holds it threateningly over CAT.

CAT: A king? Yeah, yeah!

PRIEST: Is he wearing the doughnut and the golden sausage?

CAT: Yeah, yeah!

PRIEST: Then it truly is him! Oh, I've failed you, Cloister. All these

years I kept my faith. I wore the Holy Custard Stain and the Scared

Gravy Marks.

LISTER suddenly realises that the priest's robe bears the same stains as

his own T-shirt.

PRIEST: I renounced coolness, and chose the righteous path of slobbiness.

But in the end, I failed you.

LISTER: Why didn't you go on the arks with the rest of the Cats?

PRIEST: They left us behind. The sick and the lame. Left us to die.

But then the boy was born to the cripple and the idiot.

CAT: What idiot?

PRIEST: Your father, boy.

CAT: My father was a jelly-brain?

PRIEST: Yes, that's why he ate his own feet.

CAT: I did wonder.

PRIEST: But, as one by one we died, my faith died also. You tested me,

Cloister, and I failed you.

LISTER: Oh, no. You didn't fail, old man. You passed! I'm giving you

... I'm giving you an A+ distinction.

PRIEST: You ... you mean there's a place for me on Fyushal?

LISTER: A place? Got your own bathroom, own suite, cork floors, your own

barbecue on the patio, double glazing, a phone, everything!

PRIEST: (Horrified) My hat! I've burned my sacred hat!

LISTER: No you haven't! (Grabs it off of CAT's head and replaces it on

the priest's.)

PRIEST: A miracle! (Tries to stand up.) This is the happiest day of my

-- uh -- aaahhh--

The priest suddenly collapses back on the bed, as dead as some doodoo.

LISTER sits down, appalled. CAT puts his arm around Lister's shoulders.

CAT: Did I ever tell you about my feet? My investigating feet? Once

upon a time, there was an old man...

19 Model Shot.

Red Dwarf in space.

20 Int. Observation room.

RIMMER watches eagerly as LISTER prepares to open the pod.

LISTER: Well? Are you ready for this, Rimmer?

RIMMER: Open it! Open it!

LISTER opens a hatch in the pod.

RIMMER: Well? What's there?

LISTER: Are you *sure* you're ready for this, Rimmer?

RIMMER: Yes, come on, you gimboid!

LISTER reaches into the pod, and pulls out a plucked chicken, somewhat

the worse for having spent god and/or Cloister knows how long in a

garbage pod. LISTER holds the chicken well away from his face, and holds

his nose.

RIMMER: Incredible! A stupendous moment in my own personal history! The

perfectly preserved remains of a Quagaar warrior!

LISTER: Yeah, right, Rimmer. Absolutely.

RIMMER: They must have looked something like ... a roast chicken.

(Eventually a slightly puzzled expression appears on his face.)

Cut to end credits. At one point, the music stops and the picture


RIMMER: (VO) It's a garbage pod!

Resume music and pictures. After a bit, they stop again.