Fashion Sense
I've written this as a script, as it's easier. You'll have to supply the voices yourself; my computer doesn't like the word 'yeh'. I considered using the 'comma in the air' routine, but it's a bit tricky. Sorry, Serethiel.
Cookies for anyone who can guess which orang-utan is most likely to beat Lister in an election.
Directions for use:
1) Read
2) Enjoy (optional)
3) REVIEW
Disclaimer: ARGH! Are you thick, or what? I HAVE THE INVENTIVE POWER OF A LEMON. (Sereth, if you're reading this, DON'T think back to our fourth-year English lessons and that ingenious piece of alliteration we all found so amusing NOT.)
(Cat and Rimmer are in the sleeping quarters. Cat does his 'laundry' while Rimmer sorts his stamp collection. Lister walks in wearing a T-shirt saying: WORLD'S BIGGEST SLOB.)
Lister: Hey guys, what do you think?
Rimmer: Well done Listie, you dressed yourself!
Lister: The T-shirt, you smeg head!
Rimmer: (After a pause) I hate it.
Cat: Man, if your dress sense gets any worse, I'll have to beat myself up just for looking at you.
(Lister looks disappointed.)
Rimmer: It's not even correctly punctuated.
Lister: Eh? Yeah it is, look – an apostrophe, right there!
Rimmer: Oh, that! I thought it was a curry stain.
Lister: Well, I like it.
Cat: Where the hell did you get it?
Lister: Found it in an old locker.
Rimmer: I find it hard to believe that something so obviously designed for you fell into the possession of someone who was, in comparison, a gentleman.
Lister: You don't even know who they are!
Rimmer: Lister, if you and an orang-utan were running for prime minister, the ape would get my vote any day.
Holly: I'll say one thing for the T-shirt: when it comes to stating the obvious, I've clearly got some competition.
Cat: No offence, buddy, but I've trodden in more fashionable things.
Lister: Alright, alright, there's no need to be rude!
Rimmer: Rude? May I remind you which of those among us wipes his mouth on other people's clothing?
Lister: Once!
Rimmer: Maybe so, but I've washed that shirt so often half of it's dissolved and I still can't get the stain off.
(Kryten walks in.)
Kryten: Good morning, sirs! Ah, Mr. Lister, sir. I see you have a new T-shirt.
Lister: Yeah, do you like it?
Kryten: Like it? Sir, as far as it is possible for me to dislike anything, I hate it. How anyone could have designed something so tasteless is beyond me. I advise you to get rid of it before you embarrass yourself.
(Lister takes a bottle of tomato ketchup out of his pillow case and squirts some into his mouth. Most misses and goes onto his T-shirt.)
Rimmer: Too late.