The best English sci-fi romp since Douglas Adams’ classic  The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.  When Lister got drunk, he really got drunk. After celebrating his birthday with a Monopoly board pub crawl around London, he came to in a burger bar on one of Saturn’s moons, wearing a lady’s pink crimplene hat, yellow waders, no money and a passport in the name of Emily Berkenstein. Joining the Space Corps seemed like a good idea.  Red Dwarf, a clapped out mining ship, was bound for Earth. But it never made it, leaving Lister as the last member of the human race, three million miles from home and if that weren’t enough, for company he has a computer-generated hologram of his now-deceased anal crew-mate Arnold Rimmer, a space-senile computer, a deranged sanitation mechanoid with an overactive guilt-chip and the best-dressed entity in six universes – a creature descended from his pet cat Frankenstein. On the epic journey home, they’ll break the light barrier, meet Einstein, God and Elvis, have a game of pool using planets for balls, a battle with emotion-thieving mutant parasites  – and discover an alternate plane of Reality.