Series 1: Future Echoes

"Morning, Lister. How's life in hippy heaven, you pregnant, babboon-bellied space beatnik? Ahh, what's the plan for today? Slobbing in the morning followed by slobbing in the afternoon, then a little snooze before your main evening slob? Gah! You're a disgrace to the species!"

"I didn't get a haircut to look good! This is a haircut designed for action, not poncing around in! Maybe a bit severe. A bit too green beret. But you are how you look, and I look... like a complete and total tit!"

"If you had two people coming for a job, and one of them was dead, which one would you pick?"

"Even better! Switch me on, switch me off! Like I'm some battery-powered sex aid."

"I know it's true, modo. I have taken the astro-navigation exam. Nine times! Ten if you count the time I had my spasm."

"Fine! Well, if you have any more problems with 'nothing' and 'things that don't matter' just scream out my name hysterically and I'll come pelting down the corridor!"

"Holly, I'd like to send an internal memo. Black border. Begins, 'To Dave Lister, condolences on your passing away.' What's that poem? 'Now weary traveller, rest your head, because just like me, you're utterly dead.'"

"You goit! No, you goit! You're all goits! I'm surrounded by goits! Holly, you're a goit!"

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