Polymorph

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Cat: Mmm!! Something smells good! What is it? (Sniffs.) It's me! I love this aftershave!

Cat: Hey, you've really made an effort here! Where'd you get all this stuff?
Lister: I just got sick and tired of using plastic knives and forks, man, so I went to the medical unit and nicked some gear.
Cat: This is a scalpel! I'm supposed to cut my food with a scalpel? Something that has been inside someone's guts?
Lister: It's all been cleaned, it's all been washed, it's clean.
Cat: Something that, long ago in history, may well have performed a certain popular Jewish operation? I'm supposed to eat with this?

Cat: This isn't a meal - this is an autopsy!

Rimmer reminiscing about his childhood with his three brothers: Just the usual boyhood pranks, you know - apple-pied beds, and black-eyed telescope ... and, one time, they even hid a small land mine in my sand pit. They took it from my father's gun cabinet. I mean, how were they supposed to know it was going to go off? Marvellous guys.

Kryten: Oh, and, er, who's that, there? an old girlfriend, Mr Arnold, Sir?
Rimmer: Hardly.
Kryten: Ah, no. Not really your type, I suppose - silly old trout like that.
Rimmer: She's my mother.
Kryten: Oh! I am so sorry, Sir!!
Rimmer: Just forget it.
Kryten: Oh, how can I forget it, sir? I compared your mother to a foolish, aged, blubbery fish! I said she was a simple-minded, scaly old piscine! I estimated she was an ugly, lungless marine animal with galloping senility! A putrid amphibious gillbreather with, with less brains than a mollusc!
(Robert Llewellyn says in his book that he was convinced that the writers were out to get him with lines like that.)

Holly: I don't want you to panic, Arn, but it does appear there's a very tiny possibility that there may very well in all likelihood possibly be a non-human life form on board.
Rimmer: You mean like last time, when you got us all worked up and we went scooting off down to the cargo bay complete with bazookoids and backpacks, and it turned out to be one of Lister's socks?
Holly: I didn't recognise the genetic structure. Biologically speaking, they were a completely new life form.

Kryten: Do you seriously like them [shami kabobs] that hot, sir?
Lister: It's trying to kill me!
Kryten: Oh, it's a good one, huh?

Lister: My underpants - they're shrinking! Oh God! The boxers are alive, man! They're getting smaller!! Help me, please! Please!!!
(Kryten helps Lister try to pull the boxers off)
Lister: Please, I'm begging you! Get them off, man! Pull them down!
Rimmer, entering: Well, I can't say I'm totally shocked... You'll bonk anything, won't you, Lister!

Holly: It feeds off the negative emotions - fear, guilt, anger, paranoia - drains them out of its prey.
Kryten: It's a sort of emotional vampire. It changes shape to provoke a negative emotion - in Lister's case, it took him to the very limit of his terror, then sucked out his fear.
Rimmer: So now Lister's got no sense of fear?
Kryten: Precisely.
Rimmer: What are we going to do?
Lister: Well, I say let's get out there and twat it!

Lister: I'm gonna rip out its windpipe and beat it death with the tonsil end.
Rimmer: Yes, yes, very good.
Lister: I'm gonna stick my fist so far down its gob, I'll be able to pull the label off its underpants.

Rimmer: Ah, thank god for that. Right - as far as I can see it, we have two options: One, we take it on and kill it, or, two, run away. Who's for two?
Kryten: Two sounds pretty good to me, sir.
Cat: It's always been my lucky number.

Kryten: What about the Space Corps Directive which states, "It is our primary overriding duty to contact other life forms, exchange information, and, wherever possible, bring them home"?
Rimmer: What about the Rimmer Directive which states, "Never tangle with anything that's got more teeth than the entire Osmond family"?

Rimmer, watching the heat-seekers whiz towards them: I don't understand it - holograms don't produce heat, and neither do androids. What are they homing in on?
Cat: So long, guys. (Runs away.)

Genny: What are you looking for?
Cat: A mutant. It's dangerous - it can turn into anything!
Genny: Oh, sounds pretty scary!
Cat: It is, baby. Believe me.
Genny:: It must take a really brave sort of guy to do this kind of work.
Cat: Well, I guess you're right!
Genny: And smart - I bet you have to be smart!
Cat: Smart? Yeah, you definitely have to be smart. Like I say, it can turn into anything. You gotta have your wits about you all the time - don't let up for one second, or it'll just creep up on you and blip! you're dog meat. Come on, babe.
Genny: You know, you're really quite a guy - brave, smart, handsome...
Cat: Oh, you think handsome?
Genny: Oh, come on. You know, you're probably the best-looking guy I've ever seen.
Cat: Well, I wasn't going to be the first to say it.
Genny: Do you know what I'd really like?
Cat: Hmm?
Genny: I'd really like to make love to guy like you.
Cat: Well, I'm sure I have a window in my schedule somewhere. Let's see ... what are you doing in, say, ten seconds time?
Genny: Nothing I couldn't cancel.
Cat: Hi. I'm the Cat.
Genny: Hi. I'm the Genetic Mutant.
Cat: Glad to know you ... Genny who?

Kryten: It's got my guilt! I have lost the single emotion which prevents my transgressing the mores, moras, and matters of civilised society.
Rimmer: Stop your blithering, Kryten. Come on! Grab the Cat, and let's go!
Kryten: Oh, screw you, hadron-head!

Rimmer: You've just had my mum!?
Rimmer's mom: Five times! He was like a wild stallion!
Kryten: "Very prim, very proper, almost austere!"
Holly: Don't fall for it, Arn - it's trying to make you angry!
Rimmer's mom: Darling, I wish you could have seen him in action. He was like a set of pistons in an ocean liner engine room.
Rimmer: I think I'm going to be sick.
Holly: Don't get angry! That's what it wants!
Rimmer: Lister and mother... It's a dream come true.
Rimmer's mom: He's so energetic! I honestly thought my false teeth were going to fall out.
Rimmer: How lovely.
Rimmer's mom: The positions he bent me into!
Rimmer: Terrific. That sounds enchanting. Well done.
Rimmer's mom: And the things this boy can do with Alphabetti Spaghetti!
Holly: Cool it, Arnie!
Rimmer: Alphabetti spaghetti?!

Rimmer: Look, just because it's an armour-plated alien killing machine that salivates unspeakable slobber, doesn't mean it's a bad person. What we've got to do is get it round a table, and put together a solution package - perhaps over tea and biscuits.

Rimmer: Well, that's certainly an option, David, yes. Erm, but here's my proposal. Let's get tough. The time for talking is over. Call it extreme if you like, but I propose we hit it hard and hit it fast with a major - and I mean major - leaflet campaign, and while it's reeling from that, we'd follow up with a whist drive, a car boot sale, some street theatre and possibly even some benefit concerts. Okay? Now, if that's not enough, I'm sorry, it's time for the T-shirts: "Mutants Out" ... "Chameleonic Life Forms, No Thanks" ... and if that's not enough, well, I don't know what will be.
Kryten: Has anyone ever told you that you are a disgusting, pus-filled bubo who has all the wit, charm and self-possession of an Alsatian dog after a head-swap operation? Lister: Listen, you bunch of tarts, it's clobbering time! There's a body bag out there with that scudball's name on it, and I'm doing up the zip. Anyone who gets in my way gets a napalm enema!
Cat: I think everybody's right, except me, so just forget I spoke, all right?
Rimmer: Erm, I think we're all beginning to lose sight of the real issue here, which is, what are we going to call ourselves? And I think it comes down to a choice between "The League Against Salivating Monsters" or, my own personal preference, which is "The Committee for the Liberation and Integration of Terrifying Organisms and their Rehabilitation Into Society." Erm, one drawback with that - the abbreviation is CLITORIS.
Lister: Look, it needs killing! If that means I have to sacrifice my life in some stupid pointless way, then all the better!
Kryten: Yes! Why not? I mean, even if it doesn't work, it'll still be a laugh!
Lister: Right, so let's just cut all of this business and get on with it! Last one alive's a wet ponce. Who's with me?
Rimmer: Well, the car stickers aren't ready until Thursday, but sometimes one just has to act spontaneously. People, let's go.
Cat: Hey, I'm coming, too. Maybe I can bum some money off him.
Kryten: Maybe if I hand you guys over, it'll let me go.

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