All language subtitles for Red Dwarf S01E04 Waiting for God 1080p BluRay HEVC x265 BONE3

(DRAMATIC "2001"-TYPE MUSIC)

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,

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.

The most interesting event recently

was that Lister pretended
he'd passed the chef's exam.

That gives you some idea of how
exciting some days are around here.

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

Those are for the Captain's eyes only.

Fine. We'll give him ten seconds
to come back from the dead,

then we'll presume I'm in charge.

- No, he hasn't managed it.
- Whose do you want?

Give me... Give me Lister's. Just the remarks.

David Lister, technician, 3rd class.

Captain's remarks - "Has requested
sick leave due to diarrhoea

"on no less than 500 occasions.

"Left previous job as a supermarket
trolley attendant after ten years

"because he didn't want
to get tied to a career.

"Promotion prospects - zero."

I always liked Captain Hollister.

Such a great reader of men.

A marvellous, marvellous man,
and a tragic loss to us all.

All right, Holly, give me mine.

Arnold Rimmer, technician, 2nd class.

Captain's remarks - "If a job's
worth doing, it's worth doing well.

"If it's not, give it to Rimmer.

"He aches for responsibility
but constantly fails the engineering exam. "

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Holly, Holly...
MY report - Rimmer. Two Ms.

"Astoundingly zealous. Possibly mad.

"Probably has more teeth than brain cells.

"Promotion prospects - comical."

Two Rs.

Arnold, this is your report.

I always hated that pus-head Hollister.

He always resented my popularity.

He ignored my proposal

to reduce the minimum
haircut length by an eighth of an inch.

Small-minded, petty-thinking modo.

Arnold, I'm picking up an unidentified object.

"Constantly fails the exam"?
I'd hardly call 11 times "constantly".

If you eat beef 11 times in your life,

one would hardly say
that person constantly eats beef.

It would be a rare, nay, freak occurrence.

"Possibly mad"?! What's he drivelling about?

- It's on the screen, Arnie.
- What is it?

- I don't know.
- You'd better find out.

It's obviously beyond me.
I've got more teeth than brain cells.

Yes, you have.

(SNIFFS)

(TOASTER) Would you like some toast?

- Uh-uh.
- Some nice buttered toast?

Uh-uh.
- No toast, then?

No.

- What about a muffin?
- Nothing.

You last had toast 18 days ago.
11.36, Tuesday 3rd. Two rounds.

Shh!

Why buy a toaster with artificial
intelligence if you don't like toast?

- I do like toast.
- I mean, this is my jobl

- This is just cruel.
- I'm busy.

- Not busy eating toast, are you (?)
- I don't want any!

The purpose of my existence
is to serve you with scrummy toast.

If you don't want any,
my existence is meaningless.

- Good.
- I toast, therefore I am.

Will you shut up?

(SNIFFS)

What are you doing?

- I'm reading.
- With your nose?

It's a cat book. They use smells.

You run your nose along
and different smells are released.

What a pathetic idea.

Unlike you, my mind is open to new cultures,

new ways of looking at things.

- And what does it say?
- It says, "See Dick run.

"Run, Dick, run.

"Run... home, Dick."

That's the cat equivalent of Shakespeare, is it?

Shakespeare? Who's Shakespeare?

You moron. An old playwright.
Wilfred Shakespeare.

I'm just starting.
This is for three-year-olds. You should try it.

I'm not interested in smelling
anything cats have to say.

You don't know what you're missing.

There's one where Dick buys this ball...

this big ball... this big red ball.

It's amazing stuff.

You ought to try reading your shirt.
It's probably a novel by Victor Hugo.

Anyway, if you're interested,
Holly's spotted... Is that my shirt?

- Yeah. I borrowed it.
- What's that?

That's definitely biscuit. Erm, that's custard...

Ink... just general sort of dirty marks.

- You can't go through my possessions!
- You don't need them.

- Because I'm dead?
- Yeah.

Holograms don't need clothes.

They're mine! Would you steal
verruca cream from a man with no feet?

What if I stole your favourite
T-shirt with the custard stains?

- I wouldn't care.
- Stay out of my wardrobe.

0K, 0K.

You keep your underpants
on coat-hangers, don't you?

That's private!

0K, Rimmer, 0K. Take the shirt back.

I don't want it. You've sweated in it.

- What D0 you want?
- Just keep out of my things.

- 0K, 0K. What's Holly spotted?
- An unidentified object.

- You mean a rock.
- It might not be.

- They're always rocks.
- Mostly, I agree,

but maybe this one's different.

There's nobody out there.

No alien monsters, no Zargon warships,

no beautiful blondes with beehive hairdos,

who say, "Show me more
of this thing called kissing."

There's just us, the Cat and lots
of smegging rocks. That's it. Finito.

If that's true, what's the point of existence?

Beats me. Do you want some toast?

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

All right, Holly. I'm on my way.

Aow! Nice jump. Hey!

Smooth with a capital "smoo".

0K, time to get out the food detector.

This way. Aow! 0oh!

Yeah, yeah! This way.

Aow! This way!

Ah, you. Where have you been?

Investigating. Investigating this,
investigating that.

- General investigation.
- General investigation, eh?

- Ah, splendid!
- Thank you.

- Keep it up.
- 0K.

Fine. Well, excuse me...

Hey! You can't have my shiny thing! It's mine.

What are you drivelling about?

This is my shiny thing.
If you try and take it, I'll eat you.

It's a yo-yo, you modo.

It does two amazing things.

0ne, you have the shiny thing at the top,

or - and this is the clever part -
you have the string at the top.

(LAUGHS SARCASTICALLY)

Wowee! You haven't the slightest clue
what it's for, do you?

Sure I do, grease stain.
You hold the shiny thing and go...

Aow! The string's moving!

Hey! Stop that thing! Catch that string!

- Where is it?
- It's in scoop range, Arnold.

It's a pod!

Holly, bring it in!

Yeah, yeah, yeah! I'm back!

Feeling good! Feed me.

I haven't seen you for ages. Where've you been?

- Investigating.
- Got you some crispies.

Yeah, yeah, yeah!

I read the book. It's got a brilliant ending.

I could hardly believe me nose.

Forget that. Got you the one
you asked about. The Holy Book.

0h, great!

(SNIFFS)

Hey! Pictures!

Yeah! That's a cat thing.

In books, we have drawings
of things and call them "pictures".

We have pictures, too.

You monkeys are smarter than I thought.

- This is me!
- That's not you. That's Cloister.

He was the father of the cat people.

- Who's that?
- That's him frozen in time.

That's me in stasis.
That's what "frozen in time" is.

- He did that to save Frankenstein.
- Frankenstein was my pet cat!

Look, Lister, Cloister. Cloister, Lister! See?

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

That's what I'm saying. I am your God.

0K. Turn this into a woman.

- I'm serious.
- So am I!

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

I got put into suspended animation
for three million years.

- You oversleep? So do I.
- No!

I'm saying that over those three million years,

your entire race evolved from my pet cat.

Ah, I gotta go now, man,
but let's do lunch some time.

I'll put it in my diary. "12.30, lunch with God."

Formal dress, you know what I'm saying?

It is true, you know.

Then the ultimate question
is, if you're God, why that face?

- What's wrong with my face?
- What's wrong?

It's upside down and inside out,
that's what's wrong with it. Aow!

- Holly?
- Yes, Dave?

If I give you my cat dictionary,
can you translate this?

(HOLLY) I'll give it a go, Dave.
(TOASTER) I'll do it.

You're a toaster.

I'm packing it in.
I'm becoming something I don't like.

- I'm not a moaner.
- No, you're a toaster.

It just strikes me
that there might be something more,

something unimaginably
more splendid than heating bread.

Lister, it's arrived!

- What has?
- The U0! It's a pod!

- Where?
- The observation room.

No point in running, Lister.

It's mine. I found it. I've got bagsies.

He's such a child, that boy.

- Is it safe, Holly?
- Yes, Dave.

No point in running. It's mine.

Calm down. Dead people
can have heart attacks, too.

- What is it?
- It's obviously some alien capsule,

and clearly they're intelligent, Lister.

The chance to meet an intelligent
life form after 18 weeks with you.

0K, Mr Intelligence, what are those markings?

Well, I don't know.
I don't speak alien, you gimboid.

(SATISFIED SIGH)

What are you doing? It's quarantined!

You might get some
slimy thing stuck to your face!

0f course it's safe. Come in. Come on...

(GASPS)

Ha-ha-ha (!) Tee-hee (!)
All right, we'll play it your way.

But don't think you're coming out.
You're in quarantine.

- What did you say, Rimmer?
- Why do you never do what I say?

There's a reason why I'm your superior.

You've been here 15 years,
I've been here eight months.

No, it's because I'm better than you.

Better trained, better equipped, better...

Better. Just... better.

So, everyone else is better than you.

No, I'm not going to let you bait me.
This is too important.

Just you wait here
till I get back with the skutters.

0h, Rimmer's such a smeghead, man.

Hey, hang on a minute.

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?

No, Dave.

It's one of our garbage pods
with the writing burnt off in places.

- Why didn't you tell him?
- Well, it's a laugh, innit?

(RIMMER) 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 can help
with your punctuation.

(RIMMER) Shut up.

(SN0RING)

Lights.

Are you awake? Lister?

Lister?

(SCREAMS) Lister!

- Are you awake?
- Yeah, yeah.

Yeah, I couldn't sleep either.

- It's the excitement.
- What excitement?

- The alien excitement!
- Rimmer, it's garbage.

You can scoff, Lister. They laughed
at Galileo. They laughed at Edison.

- They laughed at Columbo.
- Who's Columbo?

The man with the dirty mac
who discovered America.

- What makes you think aliens exist?
- They must do, Lister.

There's so many things
that we don't have an explanation for.

Like why do intelligent people buy
cinema hot dogs? That sort of thing?

No, Lister, I mean like the pyramids.

How did they move such massive stones
without modern technology?

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

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

No, that is a genuine mystery.
How did that song ever become a hit?

Why do I bother? I'd get more sense
out of a squashed hedgehog.

Don't you ever wonder why we're here?
What's the grand purpose?

Why does it have to be such a big deal?

Humans might be a planetary disease,

like Earth's got German measles
or facial herpes, right?

That's why the other planets
give us such a wide berth.

It's like, "Don't go near Earth,
it's got human beings!"

So, you're saying, Lister,
you're an intergalactic, pus-filled sore?

At last, Lister, we agree on something.

What about you? Do you believe in God?

Certainly not! What a preposterous thought!

I believe in aliens, Lister.

0h, right, fine. Something sensible at last.

Aliens with technology so advanced
we can't even begin to imagine.

That's not difficult.

Mankind can't even create a toupee
that doesn't get laughs.

Aliens who can give me a real body.

0oh, I can't wait to see your face
in the morning, I really can't.

Nor I yours, when that pod opens

and from it emerges a beautiful alien woman

with long green hair and six breasts.

Six breasts?!

Imagine making love
to a woman with six breasts!

Imagine making love to a woman.

Good morning. How can I help you?

- Bonjour. Um, give me breakfast.
- What would you like?

Er... chicken vindaloo and a milkshake.

- What flavour milkshake?
- Um... beer.

(MACHINE HUMS)

(HOLLY) Morning, Dave.
I've finished your translation.

- Who's Cloister? Is it me?
- Yes. The cats made you their god.

Hey! Working-class kid makes good!

Your plan to move to Fiji and open
a diner became their image of heaven.

- What?
- "And Cloister spake,

"'Lo, I shall lead you to Fuchal.
We shall open a temple of food,

"'wherein shall be sausages
and all manner of bountiful things.

"'Yea, even individual sachets of mustard.

"'And those who serve
shall wear hats of great majesty,

"'though they be made of cardboard
with humorous arrows. "'

Does it say what happened
to the rest of the cats?

Holy wars, thousands of years
of fighting between the two factions.

- What two factions?
- The ones who wanted red hats

and those who wanted blue hats.

They had a war over whether
the diner hats were red or blue?

Yeah. Most of them were killed.
It's daft really, innit?

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

- Go on, Hol.
- Finally, they called a truce,

built two arks and left Red Dwarf
in search of Fuchal.

But there's no such place.
How would they find it?

"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..."

That's my laundry list!
I lined the cat's basket with it!

They thought it was a chart
leading to the promised land.

Well, it wasn't. It was my dirty washing.

What happened next, Hol?

"And the first ark
followed the sacred signs,

"and lo, they flew straight
into an asteroid.

"The second ark flew ever onward,
knowing they were indeed righteous. "

This is terrible. Holy wars. Killing.

They're using religion as an excuse
to be extremely crappy to each other.

So, what else is new?

I'm not interested.

They killed each other over cardboard hats.

- I'm not interested.
- Isn't it amazing?

People who didn't eat hot dogs
on Fuchal Day

were stoned to death by stale doughnuts.

What should I say?
"Congratulations, you're God"?

I'm talking about the suffering. People died.

I mean cats... Cat people died.

You're just rubbing my nose in it.

I could've been God, given the lucky
show-biz break you had.

- I don't want to be a god.
- Vomitisation! I don't believe it!

"I'm God, but it's a drag." Come on!

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

Anyone who reads meaning

into any old gobbledygook
deserves everything they get.

If I'd had eight socks on my list,

or if I owned more than one pair
of underpants, they might've have been safe.

I wish I could meet them and apologise.

Well, that would look spectacular.
God returns in all his splendour,

and says, "Sorry for the cock-up!"

- I didn't ask to become their god!
- I didn't ask to be killed.

Life's a bitch. Now smeg off, I'm busy.

They just made stuff up. I'm supposed
to have given them five sacred laws.

I've broken four myself.

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

- Bye-bye.
- What sort of holy writ is this...?

- "It is a sin to be cool."
- I'm sick of hearing about cats!

My concerns are more meaningful
than stupid smegging cardboard hats!

I'm trying to decipher this!

This is science. You can smirk,
but I believe the Quagaars...

- Quagars?
- Quagaars! It's a name I made up.

Double A. I believe the Quagaars
can give me a new body!

- Never mind this tot, where's the Cat?
- Tot?!

- Tot.
- Tot?!

- Tot!
- Tot?!

We'll see what's tot.
The quarantine period's nearly up!

Bastard!

Cat? Cat?

(H0NKS H0RN)

Holly, where's the Cat?

He's no longer in my supervision field.

He's on the cargo decks.

I lost him as he entered Supply Pipe 28.

Cat? Cat?

Cat! Come on, Cat.

Miaow! Come on, kitty, kitty!

Cat, come on. The crispies are getting warm.

Come on. Cat, come on.

Aow! Yeah! Yeah-yeah-yeah!

Hey, fellas! Yes, sir. I'm back!

Feeling good! Feed me.

You're always leaving. Where do you go?

Investigating! See, I have these feet...

- I'm dying.
- I'm telling you about my feet.

- My investigating feet.
- Don't you hear me? I'm dying!

Yeah, but I'm talking about my feet.

Why should you listen to me,
a blind old priest that's lost his faith?

I'm not listening. I'm talking about my feet.

- What do you care?
- I don't care!

You're the one who's dying.
Why should it spoil my evening?

Cat?

Cat?

0oh, when I get you,
I'm going to turn you into a kebab.

Holly? Can you still hear me?

Cat?

Here.

Burn the sacred hat.

That's a fearsome hat.

Burn it! It's a symbol of the lies.

- It's burnt.
- All my life I've served a lie.

Because you're not there, Cloister, are you?

You've never been there!

Y0U D0N'T EXIST!

- Who's that?
- It is I, Cloister!

- Who is it, boy?
- It's Cloister. I've returnethed.

Is it him? Is it truly him?

- Does he look like a king?
- A king?! Yeah!

Is he wearing the doughnut
and golden sausage?

Yeah!

Then it truly is him!

0h, I've failed you, Cloister.

All these years, I kept my faith.

I wore the Holy Custard Stain
and the Sacred Gravy Marks.

I renounced coolness,

and chose the righteous path of slobbiness.

But in the end, I failed you.

Why didn't you go on the arks
with the other cats?

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.

- What idiot?
- Your father, boy.

- My father was a jellybrain?
- That's why he ate his own feet.

I did wonder.

As one by one we died, my faith died also.

You tested me, Cloister, and I failed you.

0h, no, you didn't fail, old man. You passed.

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

There's a place for me on Fuchal?

A place? Got your own bathroom,
en suite, cork floors,

your own barbecue on the patio,
a phone, everything!

0h! My hat!

I've burned my sacred hat!

No, you haven't!

A miracle!

This is the happiest day of my...
(GR0ANS)

Did I ever tell you about my investigating feet?

0nce, there was an old man...

Well? Are you ready, Rimmer?

0pen it! 0pen it!

- Well? What's there?
- Are you sure you're ready?

Yes! Come on, you gimboid!

Incredible! A stupendous moment
in my own personal history!

The perfectly preserved remains
of a Quagaar warrior!

Yeah, right, Rimmer. Absolutely.

They must have looked something like...

a roast chicken.

# It's cold outside

# There's no kind of atmosphere... #

(RIMMER) It's a garbage pod!

# I'm all alone, more or less... #

(RIMMER) It's a smegging garbage pod!

# 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 #