In a far away universe, in another dimension, in another time zone and most likely a new and exciting plane of reality, Ace Rimmer shot Van Gogh in the penis, disabling him and triumphing yet again before the authorities even got a chance to pull out the 'cuffs.
Eh, well, that's what was supposed to happen anyway...
What actually happened was Ace shooting wildly in the direction of Van Gogh's love spuds, and instead shooting him in the ear. Gogh screamed like a banshee- as did Ace. You see, the thing was, Ace wasn't terribly good at saving the world. He was quite crap to be completely honest.
There was Van Gogh, who, in this universe, in this dimension, in this time zone and this plane of reality- was a drug dealer in China. So, Ace decided to save the day, and stop the gangland boss instead of letting the authorities handle the situation. (The authorities in this plane of reality consisting of actual llamas that wear nightgowns as part of their uniform, Ace always wondered about the nightgowns, but thought of it rude to ask.)
The reason why Ace failed, yet again, was because he was one of many other 'Ace' Rimmers'. It's a legacy. It's a destiny. And as far as this particular Rimmer was concerned, it was a curse. An extremely bad curse as it goes. This Arnold J. Rimmer was a buffoon. It's that simple.
Back on the Red Dwarf, Rimmer was a lowly Second Technician, with all the charm and charisma of a public louse. When he, along with Kryten, The Cat and Lister lost the Dwarf, and ended up stranded in deep space on the tiny shuttle Starbug, things weren't much better. He was dead, you see. Brought back as a hologram to keep Lister sane- but hey, that's for another time.
Things started to look up for Rimmer when a creature named Legion gave him a 'Hard Light Bee' which meant that now Rimmer could touch, feel, eat, and with the added bonus of being indestructible. He was pretty damn pleased. He was still dead, yes, but at least now he could get out the puncture repair kit and have a bit of fun.
Then things started to take an interesting turn for Rimmer. Ace was back. He was dying. He'd met Ace on a previous occasion, apparently he was from another dimension, he was another Arnold J. Rimmer, and the only thing that separated them both from their completely different lives was one decision- just one! 'Ace' got the long straw, while Rimmer got the straw that was the size of a flea. That's how tiny his straw was.
In the end, Lister, the man that made a common tramp look like Prince Charles, persuaded Rimmer to take on the legacy that was Ace Rimmer. Lister convinced The Cat and Kryten that the burnt-out light bee that was actually Ace, was their Rimmer- and that was that. Rimmer was now yet another Ace Rimmer, and was expected to explore countless galaxies, solving trouble, and saving the day. It was okay to begin with, but now it was just boring, especially when you're not very good at it.
Van Gogh clutched his ear, and wailed in agony. He started cursing at Rimmer.
"You may want to watch your foul mouth you disgusting piece of rectum!" Rimmer sneered as he started walking over to Gogh, who was now sobbing like a new born baby.
"You're a bastard Ace!" screamed Gogh, "A bloody bastard!"
"And don't you forget it, laddy!" said Rimmer, just before he tripped over a can of paint. (Gogh was a drug dealer, but he liked to paint masterpieces in his spare time.) Rimmer flew across the floor like a bowling ball and then fell out of the window. His trousers caught onto the ledge of the window, and Rimmer hung limply fifteen floors up from the pavement. He was in deep smeg and he knew it.