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Ow!

Ah!

Ow!

Lister, it's 6:00 in the morning.

What are you doing?

I'm just trimming my big toe
with these lawn hedge trimmers.

So, you've finished Kierkegaard's
The Concept of Irony, then?

I've got an ingrown toenail, Rimmer.
It's killing me, man!

Thank it for me.

I've tried everything.

Scissors, nail file.

Why don't you get Kryten
to do it for you?

Have you seen the size of his hands?

They're like space shovels.

It'd be like asking Herman Munster
for a circumcision.

No, thanks!

- Speaking of...
- Breakfast, sir.

Kryten, it's 6:00 in the morning!

We moved the clocks forward today, sir.

And remember last year when it was time
to move the clocks forward

and you wanted another hour in bed?

So you asked if I could move the clocks

forward an extra hour
the following year instead?

Well, we've actually been doing that
now for the last seven years.

So, in actuality,
according to space adjusted time,

it is now 2:00 in the afternoon.

Which means, breakfast time!

I'll just tuck this napkin in
for you, sir.

- Thank you.
- There we go.

And I'll just fluff this pillow up.

Fluff, fluff, fluff. There we go, sir.

Is there anything you don't do for him?

When he goes to the loo,
do you fit a special hand

made from three-ply toilet tissue?

It's an excellent suggestion, sir.
I'll make a note!

Actually you're all right, Kryts.

Erm, what's for breakfast?

The full Lister, sir.

Ah, the full Lister!

Eggs, bacon, sausages,
hash browns, onions,

six slices of white toast,

double buttered on both sides
with mustard,

and a beer milkshake
to wash it all down with.

Ta-da!

Oh, sir, I'm so sorry.

I must have forgotten to make it.

What is wrong with me?

Ah, you're all right, Kryten.

Are you okay?

How could I be so stupid?

Stupid, stupid, stupid,
stupid, stupid, stupid!

You talking about me?

Kryts isn't feeling too good.

Ah, what's up, bud of mine?

I've been a little distracted of late.

I think I may have lost something
that's fundamental to my very being.

One of your nipple nuts
dropped off again?

It's nothing like that, sir.

I think I've lost my love of mopping.

And not just mopping.
Scrubbing, dusting,

even wiping,
which was always my favourite.

It's like a little light's
gone out inside.

Kryten, it's called your sanity circuit.

What's brought all this on?

Well, just recently I've started
thinking about the Universe.

About how cosmic inflation
at the time of the big bang

means it's constantly expanding

until one day it's gonna burst.

And when it does, everything in
the Universe is gonna cease to exist,

including the works
of the greatest minds,

Einstein, Mozart, Da Vinci,
Hoover, Dyson, Hotpoint, DustBuster.

And it got me thinking, if everything
in the Universe is going to end,

including time itself, what is the point
in cleaning above eye level?

Good question.

If one day the Universe
is going to explode,

who cares if the oven is a bit gunky?

Nothing matters, sir.

Justice, truth, culture, morality,

life, death, religion, war.
It's all absurd.

Why even get up in the morning?

I've been asking that for years!

What am I going to do?

Why don't you take an ice-cold shower?
That'll fix it.

I'm not waterproof, sir.

Exactly.

Kryten, what about Silicon Heaven?

Does that bring you no comfort?

Well, just lately I've started to think
that the idea of an afterlife

for machines is preposterous.

No!

Especially as appliances who are pledged
to the wrong manufacturer

aren't even allowed in.

It just seems so unfair that all
the Blackberrys burn in Silicon Hell!

What's eating you, bud?

I'm not sure, sir.

Perhaps it's something to do with today
being the anniversary of my creation.

- Happy creation day, bud!
- Happy creation day.

Yeah, happy creation day.

I came off a conveyor belt

2,976,000 years ago today.

Where did all the years go?

What's got into him?

Wait a minute,
how old did Kryten say he was?

Three million, give or take
an ice age or two.

And how long are mechs built to last
before the Grim Ruster comes along?

Another three million?

Give or take an ice age or two.

Well, there's your answer, then.

Kryten's having a mid-life crisis.

What even is a mid-life crisis?

I don't think us cats ever get 'em.

It's a period when people,
usually halfway through life,

are forced to confront
their own mortality.

Put it this way, have you ever felt,
"I've wasted my life"?

You? Sure.

Every single day!

No, have you ever felt
you've wasted your life?

No!

Have you ever felt, "There's so much
more I could have been"?

No!

Have you ever felt,
"If I went back in time

"and had my time again, I'd..."
Forget it!

I suppose you can't blame
Kryten for feeling like this.

He's nearly three million years old,
but what has he got to show for it?

Mozart was five when he wrote
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.

Yeah, but what did he do
after that, huh?

He had a bad case of second
nursery-rhyme syndrome, right?

Mozart, dummy, is one of the greatest
musical gods of all music.

And after Twinkle, he went on to write
among other things, The Best of Mozart.

And The Best of Mozart Volume Two.

It must be so hard for you

being the only one here
with a classical education.

It is!

Kryten?

What have you done to yourself?

What do you think?
It's the new DX87 shell.

Carbon fibre, Rosso corsa red,

Alcantara trim with twin exhausts.

It has a top walking speed of,
get this, 12 miles an hour.

And you should see
how this hoochie takes corners.

It is pip-tacular.

Plus, with the new push rod
suspension system,

allowing my nose to be lower
to the ground,

I can take corners at 38 degrees.

Kryten, sit down. We wanna talk to ya.

Check this.

Kryten, do you know
what a mid-life crisis is?

Sure do-ski. It's a period of emotional
turmoil in the middle of life.

Symptoms are usually unexpected anger,

a loss of interest in things
once considered important,

and a desire to try
and recapture your youth.

Now check out these sub-woofers!

Can you feel that bass?

Is that not some serious bump?

I'm feeling it, I'm feeling it!

We used to play this on the Nova V.

Yeow!

Yeah!

Turn that din off!

Kryten!

You're having a mid-life crisis.

Well, that's preposterous, I'm a mech.

Denying you're having a mid-life crisis

is a key characteristic
of having a mid-life crisis.

- It is?
- Along with getting an earring,

a red sports car
and an interest in extreme sports.

I need time to think about this.

Perhaps I'll go bungee jumping
in the lift shaft and mull it over.

I wonder why I'm so attracted
to bungee jumping all of a sudden?

Whoa!

Yes, he's having
a full-on mid-life crisis.

Hmm.

Next thing, he'll be leaving us
for a younger crew.

Look, we need to help him.

What do you suggest? A lunar road trip?

Herding vacuum cleaners?

We've gotta show him how much
he's evolved, how much he's achieved.

He hasn't achieved anything

because he spends all his time
looking after you!

Oh, get outta town, Rimmer!

He's been independent

ever since I helped him
break his programming.

Yes, independent to look after you!

Okay, how about this, remember years ago
that tech we took from the Nova V?

Kryten's old ship?

Yeah, didn't they have
some special find fleet software?

So that ships could locate each other?

So what you're suggesting
is we find one of

"badly damaged parcel head's" old ships?

We find one with a mech on board.

It'll show Kryten how much he's evolved.

How long will that take?

Well, once the scanners have located
a ship, to us, it'll be no time at all.

'Cos we'll go into stasis
till we get there.

Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!

Are we there yet?

Let me check.

Right, got it.

There's a ship 222 clicks from here.

- Name?
- Nova III.

The III's were launched
a hundred years before the Nova V's.

Any life signs, sir?

One, a mechanoid 3000 series.

Goes by the name of Butler.

What's this ship doing out here?

Well, according to the mission log,

they were looking
for a missing research station

that was attempting
to communicate with the Universe.

Back in the day,
there used to be a theory,

now dismissed as preposterous,

that the Universe
was an intelligent entity.

Bet you're really looking forward
to meeting Butler.

He'll probably be unable
to lie, won't he, sir?

Or cheat, deceive, brag, boast,

whinge, exaggerate,
or be proud, pompous or self-important.

In fact, he won't be able
to do any of the things I've taught ya.

Thinking back, I see now
I've had such a privileged upbringing.

Ah, Kryts!

It's going to be like
when you discover someone from school

is doing really badly.

It always gives you
that lovely, warm, fuzzy feeling inside.

In fact, I've got a list
I carry around in my man purse

of all the kids doing worse than me.

Short list, is it?

Derek Smetherton.

He was our head boy.

Won every prize going,
dated all the best-looking girls,

but he ended up as a bald divorcee

working in a sewage treatment plant
in the Falkland Islands.

And they say there's no God.

Butler!

Kryten, how lovely to meet you.

Follow me and I'll escort you
to our bridge.

Oh, you have a bridge.

How very quaint.

Back on the Nova V
we had a command room.

Oh, how grand!

Our bridge is nothing
very special, I'm afraid.

I hope you don't mind,
but I prepared some canapes.

I thought you might be peckish
after your journey.

So we have Bleu-Blanc-Coeur
rillettes du Maine,

or if you prefer, bocconcini brochettes

with a tomato and balsamic reduction.

Mmm, yum.

I'll match that yum and raise you a yum
and make it yum-yum!

Mm.

I hope you like vintage champagne,
Krug Clos du Mesnil 2140.

Indeed we do.

Derrieres up.

I'll have a beer.

This way.

After the crew died,
I converted this space into a gallery

so I had somewhere
to keep the paintings.

Ah, the captain had quite a collection.

These are quite stunning.

Er, no, no, these are
my paintings, Kryten.

You own all these paintings?

I painted the paintings.

It gives me a break from the concertos

I put on to entertain
the vending machines.

Are you musical, Kryten?

Sometimes he hums when he's vacc-ing.

Musical? No, Butler.

But it's long something
I've intended to take up.

"Concerto".
The etymology is fascinating.

It's the conjunction of consorere,
meaning to join, and certome, to fight.

The idea is that the two parts of the
concerto, the soloist and the orchestra,

alternate episodes of opposition

and cooperation in the creation
of the music flow.

Er, this floor, am I right in thinking
you've used our old friend Piny Shine

with its famed protective coating
and antislip finish?

I must confess I don't recall.

I've been rather distracted lately
finishing my latest novel.

- Reading?
- Writing.

Splendid.

What's it about?

It delineates the events surrounding
the droid uprising and invasion

of Callisto back in
the late 22nd century.

And the impact the uprising has on
lunar society

as seen through the eyes
of five privileged human families.

Do you write, Kryten?

Shopping lists, laundry lists. That
midnight oil hardly gets a breather.

Rimmer?

Incidentally, if any of you have
any diseases,

I most probably have an antidote.

Breakthrough medical cures
is a hobby of mine.

Do you dabble in medical science?

He's got a belting cure for hiccups.

Yeah, you drink a glass of water

through a straw while sticking
your fingers in your ears.

No, no, no, it so works.

We're expecting the Nobel Prize
for Medicine

through the cargo bay door any day now.

Before I show you the rest of my ship,
I have to make one thing very clear.

I have no intention of ever leaving
the Nova III.

My only captain now is my own muse.

You will join us for
the day, though, surely?

My pleasure.

Rimmer, have you seen
this painting here?

How is this helping Kryten?

Forget Kryten.

If we can make Butler change his mind,

this is a once in a lifetime opportunity
to update our mech.

What, get rid of Kryten?

We'll keep him for the cleaning.

Let Butler take care of the science.

I've only had a perfunctory look

but I think I can rather help expand
your EM booster circuits.

Well, sadly,
that won't be possible, Butler.

We simply can't afford to have Starbug

out of commission
for any length of time.

There, done.

Hang on, what's this?

The blinking machine's gone
full on red blinky!

GELF gunships, six of them,

coming in at 210 Mark IV.

60 seconds to intercept.

They're coming in both port
and starboard sides!

They're stabilising.
Preparing to lock on!

Suggestions?

Reroute power to the fusion booster.
Try and outrun them.

Okay, spinning up engines one,
drives two!

I don't mean to interfere but
if you do that, won't the gunships

simply take advantage of the open drives
and electro-jam the engine?

They've electro-jammed our engines.

They're locking on!

Incoming!

Prepare yourself to die,
human ship of scum!

Equahecta, is that you?

Butler?

You two know each other?

I'm his daughter's godfather.

It was Equahecta's way of thanking me
after I helped his sick tribe.

My tribe avoid big death
when Butler make skin demons flee.

My pleasure.

And I still treasure the Gelfberry wine
you gave me.

Best weed killer I've ever had.

My rafflesia arnoldiis
absolutely love it.

You're too kind.

Equahecta has promised to safely escort
us back to Red Dwarf.

We must thank him.

On behalf of all the Red Dwarf crew
let me say:

Actually Kryten, it's:

- Here, say it with me. Maaarrr.
- Maaar.

- No, it's... It's in the throat. Maaarr.
- Maaar.

- No, Maaarrr.
- Maaar.

- Maaarr.
- Maaar.

- Maaarr.
- Maaar.

Maaarr. Maaarr.

- Maaarrr.
- Maaarrr.

- That's it. Maaarrr.
- Maaarr.

- Maaarrr.
- Maaarr. Maaarr.

Maaarr. Maaarr. Maaarr.

Yeah, that's, er... That's quite close.

The Sackenyaco dialect's

a little trickier to master
than the Guinetowowe.

Later, I'd be happy to go over it
with you.

That'll be most useful.

Oh, I forgot to ask.

Equahecta, how is Bacnacnegath?

His father is dying of fever.

Oh, do you have a cure, Butler?

Well, possibly, it's hard to say without
seeing him.

Well, then you must go.
Go, be gone and go!

They'll teleport me aboard their ship

and then afterwards return me
to the Nova III.

I must bid you farewell.

Perhaps we could get together
sometime soon?

I have the Nova III's handshake
frequencies written right here, sir.

Good luck, my friends, and may every day
bring us each a little more wisdom.

Ra ra ra gaaar.

Ra gaaarrr.

- Ra gaarr.
- Ra gaarr.

Hey, it's my watch.

No need, sir, I'm happy to do it.

How you doing?

I'd just like to have been better
than Butler at something.

Just one small,
tiny, itty, bitty thing.

- I had a mid-life crisis once.
- You didn't say.

Yeah, it was about three years ago.

Had all the classic symptoms.
First, I denied it, then I got angry.

Then I started thinking about
missed opportunities.

Then I got depressed.

And then, finally, I accepted it.

How long did this whole thing last, sir?

About five minutes.

Five minutes?

Yeah, I just thought,
"Dave, you're getting older. Move on."

just like that?

That's how you have a mid-life crisis
in the North, Kryts.

Bish, bosh, done!

We don't toss about.

I wish I could be the same, sir,
but I just can't.

Things didn't exactly go to plan
back there, did they?

It really brought home to me what a
wretched failure my whole life has been.

Butler is several generations before me
and yet he's done so much more with

what he's been given.

Whoa!

What the smeg was that?

It's the EM boosters. Of course!

Butler, the damn fool, he didn't realise
that unlike the Nova Ill,

all our boards have universal linkage.

Meaning?

The engines are going to burn out, sir!

He'll look absolutely stupid!

Doesn't that mean we're going to crash?

How stupid is he going to look then?

Yeah, but say we die?

Even better!

Is there no way we can land and repair?

Well, we could, but why should we help
Butler out?

Kryten!

Oh, my jealousy chip
is overloading, sir!

Return to sane mode.

- Of course we should land.
- Where?

Anywhere, before the whole board
is infected.

Turning all power off now.

Couldn't we make it back to Red Dwarf?

Too many course adjustments.

We need to find somewhere
along our present line of velocity.

Okay, scanning. Scanning. Scanning.
There!

It's about nine hours from here.
We can make it.

Take over!

I'll go and tell the others.

And don't forget to tell them
whose fault it was.

Perhaps I'm going to give you a call
after all.

This is perfect.

All we need is a power source
to set up the adjustment array.

SIU. What's that?

"The Search for an Intelligent
Universe."

This must've been the missing space
station the Nova III was looking for.

The Universe, so some scientists
believe, is a living entity.

So they built a space station
to communicate with it?

No doubt armed with Rizlas
the length of ski bags.

Well, judging by a cursory glance
through the crew files, sir,

they all appear to be leading pioneers
in their fields.

And I think we all know
what was growing in their fields.

Do you think any communication ever take

place between these scientists
and the Universe?

It appears not.

Maybe they called and
the Universe was out?

More likely the scientists were
long dead

before the computers completed
their billions of calibrations.

Look at that.

Is that call waiting?

It appears as if
the Universe is on hold, sir.

No way has it been waiting
all this time.

It's going to be seriously smegged off.

Not as smegged off as Butler
when he finds out what we've discovered.

Leave this to me.

Hello.

Is there anyone there?

Yes. I am here.

To whom am I speaking, please?

I am the entity known
to you as the Universe.

Ah, Mr Universe, sir.

It's not Mr Universe, Rimmer.

That's some geezer with pecks
and a posing pouch.

- Ask him the meaning of life.
- Hang on.

How can we know for certain
that you are indeed The Universe?

I am the Universe.

I am everything.

I am the entire contents of space.

I am all matter and energy.

I am time.

I am the totality of all existence.

Says you.

But can you prove it?

What are you asking for, Rimmer,
a utility bill?

Photo ID? A spend and save card?

Look, let me take over.

- There you go, Kryten, you're up.
- Sir?

All your worries about the big burst,
the meaning of life...

Now's your chance. Ask the Universe.

Perhaps you can help, sir.

I've been struggling of late
to comprehend the point of existence.

Explain.

Well, if you're going to die
in 14 billion years' time,

what's the point in anything?

Wait, I'm going to die?

Well, yes.

What, in just
14 billion years' time?

I'm halfway through my life, then.

No wonder I'm not as hot as I once was.

No wonder I'm expanding exponentially.

You've just sent the Universe
into a full-on mid-life crisis.

Oh,

Halfway through my life and

I've only ever created one lousy,
stupid planet with intelligent life.

And that's debatable.

What have I been
doing all this time?

Well, making life from nothing
is really rather tricky, sir.

- You've done rather well.
- Wait.

If... If I die,
and I leave nothing behind,

my life has no meaning
and existence is senseless.

Ain't that right?

- No.
- No?

I've been thinking about this.

If you created everything
in the Universe,

then you must have created love.

And it strikes me that
there may be no God

and no afterlife, no one knows.

But we do know love exists.

And if it does, then life has meaning.

Let's hear it for the Universe.

Great job, guy.

That's very kind of you.
Thank you.

I must confess
I feel a whole lot better.

So do I.

Is there any advice you can give us
before we jog on?

- Yes.
- What?

Kryten, take off that suit.

It really sucks!

What a very strange day.

Strange, but reassuring.

I realise now,
we're all in the same boat.

Even the Universe.

And even though the boat has a hole
in it, at least we get to see the sea.

Ah, Butler, it's Kryten.

I'm calling to say hi
and thank you for today.

Not at all.

Incidentally, when we left you,
we stumbled across a space station.

And the most incredible thing,
it turned out to be

the space station you were looking for,
and guess what?

We actually talked to the Universe,
the actual Universe itself.

What do you make of that?

Oh, you know the Universe.

You call him Uni?

You purposefully expanded our EM circuit
so I'd meet him?

You thought it might help me?

You have him on speed dial?

♪ It's cold outside
There's no kind of atmosphere ♪

♪ I'm all alone, more or less ♪

♪ Let me fly far away from here ♪

♪ Fun, fun, fun ♪

♪ In the sun, sun, sun ♪

♪ I want to lie
shipwrecked and comatose ♪

♪ Drinking fresh mango juice ♪

♪ Goldfish shoals nibbling at my toes ♪

♪ Fun, fun, fun ♪

♪ In the sun, sun, sun ♪

♪ Fun, fun, fun ♪

♪ In the sun, sun, sun ♪