/johnny
;’)
They also found a pair of underwear no one was claiming.
KRYTEN: Oh my goodness... Oooh... Oh my head... what happened to me? Damage control report. (He pulls a slip of paper from a slot in his chest and reads it.)
"Dehydration Level: 45.
Recall Of Previous Evening: 2.
Embarrasment Factor: 91.
Advised Repair Schedule: Reboot Startup disk, offline for 36 hours, and replace head."
Boy, what an evening.
The others stir and begin reluctantly to wake up.
KRYTEN: Is it just me, or is that cockroach shuffling too loudly?
RIMMER: Kryten, it's called a hangover. Don't panic.
LISTER: On a mining ship, 3 million years into deep space, can someone explain to me where the smeg I got this traffic cone?
CAT: Hey, it's not a good night unless you get a traffic cone. It's the policewoman's helmet and the suspenders I don't understand. (Holds up the offending items.)