Holly: "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 3 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. I am Holly, the ship's computer, with an IQ of 6000, the same IQ as 6000 P.E. teachers"
Rimmer: "Step up to red alert."
Kryten: "Sir, are you sure? It does mean changing the bulb."
Rimmer: "There's always some excuse, isn't there?"
Holly 2: "Rude alert! Rude alert! An electrical fire has knocked out my voice recognition unicycle! Many Wurlitzers are missing from my database. Abandon shop! This is not a daffodil. Repeat: This is not a daffodil."
Rimmer: "Well, thankfully Holly's unaffected."
Kryten: "I suggest we go from blue alert to red alert, sir."
Cat: "Forget the red. Let's go all the way up to brown alert."
Kryten: "But there's no such thing as brown alert, sir."
Cat: "You won't be saying that in a minute. And don't say I didn't alert you."
Toaster: "Howdy doodly do. How's it going? I'm Talkie, Talkie Toaster, your chirpy breakfast companion. Talkie's the name, toasting's the game. Anyone like any toast?"
Lister: "Look, I don't want any toast, and he doesn't want any toast. In fact, no one around here wants any toast. Not now, not ever. No toast."
Toaster: "How 'bout a muffin?"
Lister: "Or muffins. We don't like muffins around here. We want no muffins, no toast, no teacakes, no buns, baps, baguettes or bagels, no croissants, no crumpets, no pancakes, no potato cakes and no hot-cross buns and definitely no smegging flapjacks."
Toaster: "Aah, so you're a waffle man."
Rimmer: "So, c'mon, how did you lose yours?"
Lister: "Michelle Fisher, the ninth hole of the Bootle Municipal golf course. Par 4, dobbing to the right, in the bunker behind the green."
Rimmer: "You lost your virginity on a golf course. How'd you have the nerve?"
Lister: "It wasn't in the middle of the Ryder Cup or anything. It was midnight."
Rimmer: "How old were you?"
Lister: "She was so good looking. If she wanted, then she could've got a job working behind the perfume counter at Lewis'. That's how gorgeous she was."
Rimmer: "How old were you?"
Lister: "She took all her clothes off and stood there in front of me completely naked. I was so excited I nearly dropped my skateboard."
Rimmer: "Skateboard. How old were you?"
Rimmer: "TWELVE? Twelve years old? You lost your virginity when you were twelve?"
Rimmer: "Twelve? You can't have been a full member of the golf club then."
Lister: "Listen, Kryten, I've been thinkin' about this, I've come up with something."
Kryten: "Yes, sir?"
Lister: "I'm gonna use my brains for the first time in my life."
Kryten: "Considering the circumstances, sir, do you really believe that's wise?"
Lister: "We're on a mining ship, three million years into deep space. Can someone explain to me where the smeg I got this traffic cone?"
Cat: "Hey, it's not a good night unless you get a traffic cone. It's the policewoman's helmet and the suspenders I don't understand."
Cat: "I'm so gorgeous, that there's a six-month waiting list for birds to suddenly appear whenever I am near."
Kryten: "Sir, you're a smeeeee..."
Rimmer: "A smeeee."
Kryten: "You're a smeuuu-heeee..."
Rimmer: "A smeuuu-heeee..."
Kryten: "A complete and total one."
Kryten: "This is the inquisitor. He prunes away the wastrels, expunges the wretched, and deletes the worthless."
Rimmer: "We're in big trouble."
Rimmer: "Look, sooner or later, we're gonna have to face the fact that we're not all gonna get out of this in one piece. Or if we are, it's gonna be one big flat piece."
Rimmer: "It's time we decided who's gonna take the one-man escape pod."
Rimmer: "Well, if you'll just bear with me, I think I've devised a fair and equitable system of choosing who should survive. It's based on age, rank, seniority, usefulness... to cut a long story short it's me. I was as stunned as you are, which is why I demanded a recount. But blow me! It didn't come out as me again!"
Lister: "Rimmer, the escape pod is not an option."
Rimmer: "Why not?"
Lister: "It escaped last Thursday."
Rimmer: "I just want to say: over the years, I have come to regard you as... people I met."
Camille: "Please. I can't meet your shipmates. Trust me."
Kryten: "But you don't know them. You'll like them. Well, some of them. Well, one of them... Maybe."
Holly 1: "As the days go by, we face the increasing inevitability that we are alone in a godless, uninhabited, hostile and meaningless universe. Still, you've got to laugh, haven't you?"
Rimmer: "You're about as much use as a condom machine in the Vatican."
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: "Dear lord, what has created such foulness? Is it the product of a marriage twixt woman and gerbil?"
Rimmer: "There are always casualties in war, if there were no casualties it would just be a rather nasty argument with lots of pushing and shoving."
Kryten: "Do you described the accused (Rimmer) as a friend?"
Lister: "No, I describe the accused as a git."
Kryten: "Then who do you think is the person that thinks of him most fondly?"
Lister: "I do."
Kryten: "Are there no others that share moments of intimacy with him?"
Lister: "Only one, but she's got a puncture."
Rimmer: "Look, we've all got something to contribute to this discussion. And I think what you should contribute from now on is silence."
Kryten: "Sir? May I recommend I load myself into the reverse-thrust tubes and you use my body as decoy-fodder? This will, of course leave me splattered across deep space and unable to complete today's laundry, for which I apologize in advance."
Rimmer: "Kryten, stop your blathering and get in the damn tube."
Lister: "Kryten, sit down. I'm not doing me own smeggin' ironing."