Rimmer walks down the corridor towards the sleeping quarters. He is mumbling to himself.

Rimmer: Where is that smelly, smeggy lump of slobbiness now?

He walks into the sleeping quarters. It's pitch dark.

Rimmer: (angrily) Lister, are you in here? Lights!

The lights flick on and Rimmer jumps back in shock. Lister is sitting on Rimmer's bunk wearing a green flowery, frilly dress. A baby's bonnet is stretched over his head, covering up his dreadlocks. He looks ridiculous. On his hand is a familiar furry penguin glove-puppet, Mr Flibble.

Rimmer: (shocked) Uh... Lister? What... are you doing, exactly?
Lister: (in a monotone) I'm waiting for the magic broomstick.
Rimmer: (slowly) The magic broomstick.
Lister: The magic broomstick that goes to the land of fairy floss.
Rimmer: Right. (he is backing out the door imperceptibly) Lister, are you by any chance, perhaps, a teeny weeny bit drunk?
Lister: I was feeling bad before. But I'm alright now. (he turns to Mr Flibble) Mr Flibble made me better.
Rimmer: Ah. Of course he did.
Lister: Where are you going? Don't you want to see the land of fairy floss?
Rimmer: (nervous, squeaky voice) Uh... no. I might have to pass you up on that. Sorry.
Lister: I don't think so. The troll people said you might try to escape. We can't have that. It wouldn't please them. (His eyes start to glow red and he emits a strange howling noise)
Rimmer: Aaah!
Rimmer turns and scampers off down the corridor.

Rimmer runs breathlessly into the cockpit, where Cat and Kryten are sitting.

Rimmer: Lister's gone nuts!
Cat: What?
Rimmer: He's gone mad! He's gibbering something about troll people and the land of fairy floss!
Cat: Sounds like you after extra-strength holo-whiskey. He's probably drunk.
Rimmer: No, you idiot! He's completely flipped! He tried to use some kind of hex vision on me!
Cat: Hex vision? Wasn't that what happened to you after you got that virus from Dr What's-her-face?
Kryten: It sounds like the holo-virus has somehow been breeding and mutating on our ship, and is now harmful to humans. I suggest we try to seal off the doors to the crew's quarters.
Rimmer: It's too late, he could be anywhere by now! Holly, can you track him?
Holly (on screen): I'm picking up movement in the cargo bay corridor.
Rimmer: Seal off all the doors leading from that corridor!
Holly: Alright. Keep your hair on. (pause) It's done.
Rimmer: (relaxing) Thank god. Did you get him?
Holly: He's still in the corridor. I can bring it up on screen. (her image is replaced with that of a black and white flickering monitor image, showing a corridor. Lister is sitting cross-legged on the ground, seemingly in the middle of a deep conversation with Mr Flibble, who is nodding his 'head'/hand in agreement.)

Rimmer: Good... now what.
Kryten: I suggest we try to sedate him, and see if we can produce some kind of anti-virus. It may not be so far evolved that there is no cure for humans.
Cat: What if it is?

Kryten doesn't answer, but just gives them both a very worried look.

Kryten, Cat and Rimmer are creeping down a darkened corridor. Kryten is holding a very large tranquilizer gun that looks like it should normally be used on elephants.

Kryten: This should do the trick. There's enough tranquilizer in here to put him to sleep for a month.
Rimmer: A plan that works for everyone.

They reach the closed cargo bay doors.

Kryten: Holly, open the doors. (he turns to the others.) I suggest you find convenient hiding places, sirs. This virus may be lethal to both of you.

They scuttle off into the shadows and the doors open. Kryten walks into the deserted corridor.

Kryten: Holly?
Holly (over speaker): Um, there seems to be a problem.
Kryten: He's gone.
Holly: Yes, that's the problem.
Kryten: Well where is he now?
Holly: I don't know, I can't find him anywhere. Not getting any readable life signs.
Kryten: Ah. The virus seems to be evolving quickly.
Rimmer: What? You mean we can't detect him on radar now either?
Kryten: No.
Cat: So what are we gonna do?
Kryten: Don't worry sirs, I have a plan.

Kryten, Cat and Rimmer are crouched in the corridor peering around the corner, where a steaming hot tray of chicken vindaloo has been placed strategically in the middle of the floor.

Rimmer: This was your plan. Lure him out with chicken vindaloo.
Kryten: Yes, sir.
Rimmer: Kryten, he'd have to have less brains than a clinically deranged mollusc to fall for that. (He pauses, and then shakes his head) Sorry, I forget it's Lister we're talking about.
Cat: This is crazy. There's no way this is gonna work!
Kryten: Well I'm sorry sirs, it was the best plan I could think of at the time.
Rimmer: (hissing) Shh, be quiet, here he comes!

They duck back out of sight behind the corner. Lister, still wearing that insanely cheerful floral dress, walks up the corridor and spots the tray of food. He points Mr Flibble at it. Mr Flibble whispers in his ear.
He looks around suspiciously, then down at the food. His eyes light up and he points his hex vision at the vindaloo, which starts to bubble and hiss.

Rimmer: (whispering) He's not taking the bait Kryten, shoot him now!

Kryten leans out from behind the wall and fires. The dart smacks into Lister's neck, his eyes fly wide open and he claws at it. Slowly his struggles grow weaker and he sinks to the floor in an ungainly heap. Mr Flibble slides off his hand of his own accord and scuttles off up the corridor.

The others don't notice the absence of Mr Flibble, as Kryten and Cat unfold a stretcher and put Lister onto it.