Goits, Gits, Gimps and Gimboids of all ages, gather round as we celebrate the 30th Anniversary of Red Dwarf.

A scouse poet, an impressionist with big nostrils, a dancer and a stand up comedian who spends his entire time sitting down, live (and die) in a spaceship while being obscenely rude to each other and not meeting aliens.

So, if you’re a white-hatted ponce, a 6-breasted Quagaar warrior woman, or even if you look something like a roast chicken, then order yourself some blackcurrant cordial with blancmange and two creams and a sugar and reminisce with us about the day that Frankenstein didn’t go to Fiji.

If that made any sense at all, I worry abut you.