Lister met his sons before they were born. How many people can say THAT?!
"[Rimmer comes to the table and salutes. Everyone at the table mocks it back]
Rimmer: Ha ha ha ha. Lister, where’s my revision timetable?
Chen: Sir, it’s Saturday night!
Lister: Come on, no one works Saturday night.
Rimmer: You don’t work *any* night. You don’t work any *day*.
Lister: ‘Skive hard, play hard,’ that’s our motto!
Rimmer: Look, I’ve got my engineering re-sit on Monday; I don’t know anything. Where’s my revision timetable?
Lister: Wait, is this the thing in a- in all different colours, with all the subjects divided into study periods and rest periods and self-testin’ times?
Rimmer: It took me seven weeks to make it. I’ve got to cram my whole revision into one night.
Lister: Hang on, this the thing with a note on it, in red, said, “Vital, valuable, urgent! Do not touch on pain of death!”?
Lister: I threw it away.
[laughter around the table]
Rimmer: Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, tee-hee. Where is it?
Lister: Nah, I didn’t. I pinned it up on the wall.
Rimmer: What? Why?
Lister: To dry it out!
Rimmer: What do you mean, “dry it out”?
Lister: Well I spilt a goat vindaloo on it. Don’t worry, it’s a little bit red, but you can read most of it, especially if you scrape the lumps off.
[more laughter at the table]
Rimmer: You spoilt my…! No, I haven’t got time, I’m taking learning drugs and all I’m memorizing is this conversation.
Olaf Petersen: They’re illegal!
Rimmer: [trance-like] “Where’s my revision timetable, Lister?” “It’s Saturday night.” “No one works Saturday night.” “You don’t work any night. You don’t work any day.” “‘Skive hard play hard’ that’s our motto.” “Lister where’d you put my revision timetable?” “It’s Saturday night.” “No one works Saturday night.” “You don’t work any… “"
Series 1, Episode 3. (via smegyeahreddwarf)
Lister, Kryten and the infamous toaster.
Has requested sick leave due to diarrhoea on no less than 900 occasions. Left his previous job as a supermarket trolley attendant after ten years to avoid being tied down to a career. Promotion prospects - zero.
As one might have expected from the infant Lister, he was not so much ‘born’ as ‘found’.
He was discovered in a cardboard box beneath a pool table in the Aigburth Arms public house, Liverpool at approximately six weeks of age.
His finding parents ignored the instructions written on the box that the child’s name was Our Rob or Ross and named him Dave instead.