Fawlty Feb: Day Twenty Five

Let me introduce Basil the Rat...

Manuel: I say to man in shop, "is rat". He say, "No, no, is special kind of hamster. Is Filigree Siberian hamster". Only one in shop. He make special price, only five pound.

Basil: (calmly) Have you ever heard of the bubonic plague, Manuel? It was very popular here at one time. A lot of pedigree hamsters came over on ships from Siberia... (he takes the cage)

Manuel: What are you doing?

Basil: I'm sorry, Manuel, this is a rat.

Manuel: No, no, is hamster.

Basil: Is not hamster. Hamsters are small and cuddly. Cuddle this, you'd never play the guitar again.

Fawlty Feb: Day Twenty Four

Ever wondered how the Nazis got started?

Basil: This is typical, absolutely typical... of the kind of... (shouting) ARSE I have to put up with from you people. You ponce in here expecting to be waited on hand and foot, well I'm trying to run a hotel here. Have you any idea of how much there is to do? Do you ever think of that? Of course not, you're all too busy sticking your noses into every corner, poking around for things to complain about, aren't you. Well, let me tell you something - this is exactly how Nazi Germany started, you know. A lot of layabouts with nothing better to do than to cause trouble. Well I've had fifteen years of pandering to please the likes of you and I've had enough. I've had it. Come on, pack your bags and get out!

Basil does make a mountain out of a molehill... I mean the poor man just wanted a Waldorf Salad.

Fawlty Feb: Day Twenty Three

Drum roll please... yes, it's time for Waldorf Salad.

Basil: I have looked. There's no celery, there's no grapes... walnuts! That's a laugh, easier to find a packet of sliced hippopotamus in suitcase sauce than a walnut in this bloody kitchen. (he looks in the fridge)

Sybil: Now, we've got apples (holding up some)

Basil: Oh, terrific! Let's celebrate. We'll have an apple party. Everybody brings his own apple and stuffs it down somebody's throat.

Sybil: Basil, I'll find everything. Just go and get a bottle of Volnay.

Basil: What's a waldorf, anyway - a walnut that's gone off?

Sybil: It's the hotel, Basil. The Waldorf Hotel. In New York.

Basil: (struck with an idea) Wait, wait.

Sybil: (warningly) Basil.

Basil: (going into the dining room) Everything all right?

Mrs Hamilton: Yes thank you.

Mr Hamilton: Never been better.

Basil: Oh good. Um... by the way. I wonder... have you by any chance ever tried a Ritz salad?

Mr Hamilton: A Ritz salad?

Basil: Yes - it's a traditional old English... thing. It's apples, grapefruit and potatoes in a mayonnaise sauce.

Mr Hamilton: No, don't think I ever tried that.

Basil: Ah!

Mr Hamilton: Don't think I ever will, either.

There's lots more but I'm tired now so you'll just have to look it up or watch the episode if you want to relive all the glory of Waldorf Salad. Good night.

Fawlty Feb: Day Twenty Two

Lost in translation.

Mr Hamilton: A scotch and water and screwdriver, please.

Basil: Um... and for you, madam?

Mrs Hamilton: The screwdriver's for me.

Basil: I see... um... would you like it now or after your meal?

Mrs Hamilton: Well, now, please.

Basil: There's nothing I can put right?

Mrs Hamilton: What?

Basil: Absolutely. So it's one scotch and one screwdriver.

Mr Hamilton: I think I'll join you. (to Basil) Make that two screwdrivers, will you?

Basil: You'd like a screwdriver as well?

Mr Hamilton: You got it.

Basil: Fine. So it's one scotch and you each need a screwdriver.

Mr Hamilton: No, no, no. Forget the scotch. Two screwdrivers.

Basil: I understand. And you'll leave the drinks.

Mr Hamilton: What?

Basil: Nothing to drink.

Mr Hamilton: What do you mean? 'Nothing to drink'?

Basil: Well you can't drink your screwdrivers, can you. Ha ha.

Mr Hamilton: What else would you suggest that we do with them?

Mrs Hamilton: Vodka and orange juice.

Basil: Ah, certainly madam.

Mr Hamilton: Make that two. And forget about the screwdrivers.

Basil: You're sure?

Mr Hamilton: We can manage without them.

Basil: As you wish, sir.

And because we're running out of Fawlty Feb days, I'm going to throw in an extra one today. No extra charge.

On Harold Robbins (not that awful Harold Robinson).

Basil: Oh, of course, yes. My wife likes Harold Robbins. After a hard day's slaving under the hair-dryer she needs to unwind with a few aimless thrills.

Sybil: Basil! (she exists into the kitchen)

Basil: Have you ever read any? It really is the most awful American... well, not American, but trans-Atlantic tripe. A sort of pornographic muzak. Still, it keeps my wife off the streets.

Fawlty Feb: Day Twenty-One

On coping...

Sybil: I'm talking to Mr Libson, Basil.

Basil: Good. Well, that's a help.

Sybil: I'm sure you can cope.

Basil: Oh, yes, I can cope. Coping's easy. Not pureeing your loved ones, that's the difficult part.

Amen to that, Basil!

Fawlty Feb: Day Twenty

Not everyone is Gordon Ramsay, you know!

Miss Gurke: Er... excuse me.

Sybil: Yes?

Miss Gurke: I'm sorry, but do you think we could cancel our fruit salads?

Sybil: Well, it's a little tricky, Chef's just opened the tin.

Fawlty Feb: Day Nineteen

It's hard to get customer service just right, isn't it.

Sybil: I've had it up to here with you.

Basil: What, dear?

Sybil: You never get it right, do you. You're either crawling all over them licking their boots, or spitting poison like some benzedrine puff-adder. (she goes into the office)

Basil: (to himself) Just trying to enjoy myself.

Fawlty Feb: Day Eighteen

Fancy a quick read?

Mrs Abbott: Do you have a guide to Torquay?

Basil: A guide... um... oh, dear, I think we're out of them again.

Mr Johnson: (to Mrs Abbott) Do you want to look at this one? I got it in the town.

Mrs Abbott: Oh, thanks... What's on in Torquay.

Mr Johnson: Yes, it's one of the world's shortest books. (they laugh)

Basil: What?

Mr Johnson: One of the world's shortest books... like "The Wit of Margaret Thatcher" or "Great English Lovers".

Fawlty Feb: Day Seventeen

And so we bid a fond farewell to Mrs Richards and her communication problems and have a short visit with The Psychiatrist.

From: The Psychiatrist (the second episode of the second series, broadcast 26 February, 1979)

Sybil: Seventy-seven! Isn't that amazing... old people are wonderful when they have so much life, aren't they? Gives us all hope, doesn't it.

Mr Johnsons: Mmmm...

Sybil: My mother... on the other hand... is a little bit of a trial really... you know, it's all right when they have the life force, but mother, well, she's got more of the death force really... she's a worrier...

Mr Johnson: (to phone) No, it's all right, I'll hold.

Sybil: She has these, well, morbid fears they are, really... vans is one... rats, doorknobs, birds, heights, open spaces... confined spaces. It's very difficult getting the space right for her really, you know...

Mr Johnson (nodding, not much interested) Mmmmm...

Sybil: Footballs, bicycles, cows... and she's always on about men following her... I don't know what she thinks they're going to do to her... vomit on her, Basil says...

Mr Johnson: (to phone) Can I leave my number, he can call me back...

Sybil: And death.

It'd be quicker to make a list of the things she's not afraid of.

Fawlty Feb: Day Sixteen

Have we been missing Manuel? I have.

Basil: The money! The money! Do you remember?... Manuel. Manuel. Come here. Manuel... you remember I had some money yesterday. (Manuel looks suspicious; Basil whispers) The money I won on the horse.

Manuel: Ah! Si...

Basil: Tell Mrs Richards. Tell her I had the money yesterday.

Manuel: (with pride) Ahem. I know nothing.

Basil: What?

Manuel: I know nothing.

Basil: No, no.

Manuel: Nothing.

Basil: No, no, forget that.

Manuel: I forget everything. I know nothing.

Basil: No, you can tell her. You can tell her.

Manuel: No, I cannot.

Basil: Yes, yes, tell her, tell her, please, please, tell her, tell her... I'll kill you if you don't.

Manuel: (runs his finger along his throat and winks at Basil) No, I know nothing. (to Mrs Richards) I am from Barcelona. (Manuel leaves)

Wouldn't you love a T-shirt which states "I AM FROM BARCELONA"? It just explains everything.

Fawlty Feb: Day Fifteen

This was due yesterday, and since it was St Valentine's Day, this is very fitting.

Sybil: (suspiciously) You seem very jolly, Basil.

Basil: Hmmm?

Sybil: You seem very jolly.

Basil: Jolly?

Sybil: Yes, jolly. Sort of... happy.

Basil: Oh, 'happy'. Yes, I remember that. No, not that I noticed, dear. I'll report it if it happens, though.

Sybil: (accusingly) Well, you look happy to me, Basil.

Basil: No, I'm not dear.

Sybil: All this dancing about, singing and rubbing your hands.

Basil: No, just my way of getting through the day, dear. The Samaritans were engaged.

Sybil: I thought maybe you were in love. (laughs)

Basil: Only with you, light of my life.

And a little bit later, with Mrs Richards...

Mrs Richards: I don't need your arm, thank you. I can get down the stairs perfectly well by myself.

Basil: Down the stairs? Oh, well, don't stop when you get to the basement. Keep straight on. Give my regards to the earth's core.

Sybil: Are you sure you can manage?

Basil: And if you give us anymore trouble I shall visit you in the small hours and put a bat up your nightdress. Well, that was fun, wasn't it dear. The odd moment like that, it's almost worth staying alive for, isn't it. (Sybil is poker-faced) It's nice to share a moment like that, isn't it, dear. It's what marriage is all about. I know, it said so on the back of a matchbox.

Sybil: Basil, sometimes...

Basil: (putting a hand on her waist) Seriously, Sybil, do you remember, when we were first... manacled together, we used to laugh quite a lot.

Sybil: (pushing him away) Yes, but not at the same time, Basil.

Basil: That's true. That was a warning, wasn't it. Should have spotted that. Zoom! - what was that? That was your life, mate. That was quick, do I get another? Sorry mate, that's your lot.

Sybil: Basil.

Basil: Back to the world of dreams. Yes dear?

Sybil: (irritated) What are we going to do?

Basil: Give it another fifteen years?

I couldn't have said it better myself, Basil.

Fawlty Feb: Days Thirteen and Fourteen

Why one should never work in customer service... because, damn it, the customer is rarely right and mostly they're just plain bonkers.

Basil: Good morning, madam - can I help you?

Mrs Richards: Are you the manager?

Basil: I am the owner, madam.

Mrs Richards: What?

Basil: I am the owner.

Mrs Richards: I want to speak to the manager.

Basil: I am the manager too.

Mrs Richards: What?

Basil: I am the manager as well.

Manuel: Manaher! Him manaher!

Basil: Shut up!

Mrs Richards: Oh... you're Watt.

Basil: ... I'm the manager.

Mrs Richards: Watt?

Basil: I'm ... the... manager.

Mrs Richards: Yes, I know, you've just told me, what's the matter with you? Now listen to me. I've booked a room with a bath. When I book a room with a bath I expect to get a bath.

Basil: You've got a bath.

Mrs Richards: I'm not paying seven pounds twenty pence per night plus VAT for a room without a bath.

Basil: (opening the bathroom door) There is your bath.

Mrs Richards: You call that a bath? It's not big enough to drown a mouse. It's disgraceful (she moves away to the window).

Basil: (muttering) I wish you were a mouse, I'd show you.

Mrs Richards: (at the window, which has a nice view) And another thing - I asked for a room with a view.

Basil: (to himself) Deaf, mad and blind. (goes to the window) This is the view as far as I can remember, madam. Yes, this is it.

Mrs Richards: When I pay for a view I expect something more interesting than that.

Basil: That is Torquay, madam.

Mrs Richards: Well, it's not good enough.

Basil: Well... may I ask what you were hoping to see out of a Torquay hotel bedroom window? Sydey Opera House perhaps? The Hanging Gardens of Babylon? Herds of wildebeeste sweeping majestically...

Mrs Richards: Don't be silly. I expect to be able to see the sea.

Basil: You can see the sea. It's over there between the land and the sky.

Mrs Richards: I'd need a telescope to see that.

Basil: Well, may I suggest you consider moving to a hotel closer to the sea. Or preferably in it.

Mrs Richards: Now listen to me: I'm not satisfied, but I have decided to stay here. However, I shall expect a reduction.

Basil: Why, because Krakatoa's not erupting at the moment?

Mrs Richards: Because the room is cold, the bath is too small, the view is invisible and the radio doesn't work.

Basil: No, the radio works. You don't.

Mrs Richards: What?

Basil: I'll see if I can fix it, you scabby old bat....

Tomorrow, the rest of this delicious scene.

Fawlty Feb: Day Twelve

On the joys of marriage and fire breathing dragons...

The Major: Going to have a flutter, Fawlty

Basil: No-o, no, no...

Sybil: No, Basil doesn't bet any more, Major, do you, dear?

Basil: No, dear, I don't. No, that particular avenue of pleasure has been closed off.

Sybil: (quietish) And we don't want it opened up again, do we, Basil? (she goes into the office)

Basil: No, you don't dear, no. The Great Warning-Off of May the 8th. Good old St George, eh, Major?

The Major: Hmmmm.

Basil: He killed a hideous fire-breathing old dragon, didn't he, Polly?

Polly: Ran it through with a lance, I believe.

Manuel: (running in) Mr Fawlty, Mr Fawlty. Is Mrs... er... room, no like... she want speak to you, is problem.

Basil: (moving off) Ever see my wife making toast Polly? (he mimes breathing on both sides of a slice of bread)

The Major: Why did he kill it, anyway, Fawlty?

Basil: I don't know Major. Better than marrying it (he follows Manuel upstairs)

The Major: Marrying it? Bue didn't have to kill it though, did he? I mean, he could have just not turned up at the church.

Fawlty Feb: Day Eleven

I use this one at work all the time.

(Still with Communication Problems, we'll be here for a while.)

Basil: (to Sybil) A satisfied customer. We should have him stuffed.

Fawlty Feb: Day Ten

Now we arrive in the wonderland which is Communication Problems, the realm of the one and only Mrs Richards... this will take a few Fawlty Feb days. So sit back and enjoy...

From: Communication Problems (the first episode of the second series, broadcast 19 February, 1979)

Mrs Richards: (to Manuel) Now, I've reserved a very quiet room with a bath and a sea view. I specifically asked for a sea view in my written confirmation, so please be sure I have it.

Manuel: Que?

Mrs Richards: ... What?

Manuel: ... Que?

Mrs Richards: K?

Manuel: Si.

Mrs Richards: C? (Manuel nods) KC? (Manuel looks puzzled) KC? What are you trying to say?

Manuel: No, no - Que - what?

Mrs Richards: K - what?

Manuel: Si! Que - what?

Mrs Richards: C. K. Watt?

Manuel: ... Yes.

Mrs Richards: Who is C.K. Watt?

Manuel: Que?

Mrs Richards: Is it the manager, Mr Watt?

Manuel: Oh, manager!

Mrs Richards: He is.

Manuel: Ah... Mr Fawlty.

Mrs Richards: What?

Manuel: Fawlty.

Mrs Richards: What are you talking about you, you silly little man [I often shout this phrase at the radio when listening to 702 ABC talk back]. (turns to Polly, Mr Thurston having gone) What is going on here? I ask him for my room, and he tells me the manager's a Mr Watt and he's aged forty.

Manuel: No. No. Fawlty.

Mrs Richards: Faulty? What's wrong with him?

Polly: It's all right, Mrs Richards. He's from Barcelona.

Shame to stop now but there's more, so much more, from this episode, choc-full of nutty goodness. Stay tuned.

Fawlty Feb: Day Eight and Nine

OK, I'm cheating a little because I'm so strapped for time but also because this is one of the greatest episodes and has so much "stuff" it's surely enough to make up for two days' worth of Fawlty Feb.

From: The Germans (the sixth episode of the first series, broadcast 24 October, 1975)

*A little note for those not familiar with Fawlty Towers, Basil is particularly manic in this scene because he's just released himself from hospital after getting concusion after the moose head fell on him. So his gibbering is more ridiculous and out of control than usual.*

Basil: Right, right, here's the plan. I'll stand there and ask them if they want something to drink before the war... before their lunch... don't mention the war! (He moves in front of the guests, bows, and mimes and eating and drinking)

2nd German: Can we help you?

Basil: (gives a startled jump) Ah... you speak English.

2nd German: Of course.

Basil: Ah, wonderful. Wunderbar! Ah - please allow me to introduce myself - I am the owner of Fawlty Towers, and may I welcome your war, your wall, you all... and hope that your stay will be a happy one. Now would you like to eat first, or would you like a drink before the war... ning that, er, trespassers will be - er, er - tied up with piano wire ... Sorry! Sorry! (clutches his thigh) Bit of trouble with the old leg ... got a touch of shrapnel in the war... Korean, Korean war, sorry, Korean.

2nd German: Thank you, we will eat now.

Basil: Oh good, please do allow me. May I saw how pleased we are to have some Europeans here now that we are on the Continent...

[...]

Basil: I didn't vote for it myself, quite honestly, but now that we're in I"m determined to make it work, so I'd like to welcome you all to Britain. The plaice is grilled, but that doesn't matter, there's life in the old thing yet... No, wait a minute, I got a bit confused there. Oh yes, the plaice is grilled... in fact the whole room's a bit warm, isnt' it... I"ll open a window, have a look... and the veal chop is done with rosemary... that's funny, I thought she'd gone to Canada... and is delicious and nutritious... in fact it's veally good... veally good?

2nd German: The veal is good?

Basil: Yes, doesn't matter, doesn't matter, never mind.

1st German: May we have two eggs mayonnaise, please?

Basil: Certainly, why not, why not indeed? We are all friends now, eh?

2nd German: (heavily) A prawn cocktail...

Basil: All in the market together, old differences forgotten, and no need at all to mention the war... Sorry! Sorry, what was that again?

2nd German: A prawn cocktail.

Basil: Oh, prawn, that was it. When you said prawn I thought you said war. Oh, the war! Oh yes, completely slipped my mind, yes, I'd forgotten all abot it. Hitler, Himmler, and all that lot, oh yes, completely forgotten it, just like that (snaps his fingers)... Sorry, what was it again?

2nd German: (with some menace) A prawn cocktail...

Basil: Oh yes, Eva Prawn... and Goebbels, too, he's another one I can hardly remember at all.

1st German: And ein pickled herring!

Basil: Herman Goering, yes, yes... and von Ribbentrop, that was another one.

1st German: And four cold meat salads, please.

Basil: Certainly, well, I"ll just get your hors d'oeuvres... hors d'oeuvres vich must be obeyed at all times without question... Sorry! Sorry!

Polly: Mr Fawlty, will you please call your wife immediately?

Basil: Sybil! Sybil! ... she's in the hospital, you silly girl.

Polly: Yes, call here there!

Basil: I can't, I've got too much to do. Listen... (whispers through his teeth) Don't mention the war... I mentioned it once, but I think I got away with all right ... (he returns to his guests) So it's all forgotten now and let's hear no more about it. So that's two eggs mayonnaise, a prawn Goebbels, a Hermann Goering and four Colditz salads... no, wait a moment, I got a bit confused there, sorry... (one of the German ladies has begun to sob) I got a bit confused because everyone keeps mentioning the war, so could you...

The second German, who is comforting the lady, looks up angrily.

Basil: What's the matter?

2nd German: It's all right.

Basil: Is there something wrong?

2nd German: Will you stop talking about the war?

Basil: Me? You started it!

2nd German: We did not start it.

Basil: Yes you did, you invaded Poland...

Fawlty Feb: Day Seven

My favourite... duck surprise. Who can ever forget this wonderful scene?

Basil: Yes. Lucky old bin, I say! So this is your new menu.

Colonel Hall: Duck with orange... duck with cherries... duck surprise?

Mrs Twitchen: What's duck surprise?

Basil: Ah... that's duck without orange or cherries.

Sorry, short and sweet tonight. Good night.

Fawlty Feb: Day Six

Has this kid been taking lessons from my Marianna? Or possibly watching too much Junior Masterchef?

From: Gourmet Night (the fifth episode of the first series, broadcast 17 October, 1975)

Ronald: Haven't you got any proper chips?

Basil: Well these are proper. French Fried Potatoes. You see the chef is Continental.

Ronald: Couldn't you get an English one?

Mrs Heath: (to Ronald) Why don't you eat just one or two, dear?

Ronald: They're the wrong shape.

Basil: Oh dear - what shape do you usually have? Mickey Mouse shape? Smarties shape? Amphibious landing craft shape? Poke in the eye shape?

Ronald: ... God, you're dumb.

Mrs Heath: Oh, now...

Basil: (controlling himself) Is there something we can get you instead, Sonny?

Ronald: I'd like some bread and salad cream.

Basil: ... To eat? Well... (pointing) there's the bread, and there's the mayonnaise.

Ronald: I said salad cream, stupid.

Basil: We don't have any salad cream. The chef made this (indicating the mayonnaise) freshly this morning.

Ronald: What a dump?

Mr Heath: (offering Ronald the mayonnaise) This is very good.

Mrs Heath: (coldly) He likes salad cream.

Ronald: (to Basil) That's puke, that is.

Basil: Well, at least it's fresh puke.

Mrs Heath: (shocked) Oh dear!

Basil: (indignantly) Well, he said it!

Mrs Heath: (loftily) May I ask why you don't have proper salad cream, I mean most restaurants...

Basil: Well, the chef only buys it on special occasions, you know, gourmet nights and so on, but... when he's got a bottle - ah! - he's a genius with it. He can unscrew the cap like Robert Carrier. It's a treat to watch him. (he mimes) And then... right on your plate! None on the walls! Magic! He's a wizard with a tin-opener too. He got a Pulitzer Prize for that. He can have the stuff in the saucepan before you can say haute cuisine. You name it, he'll heat it up and scrape it off the pan for you. Mind you, skill like that isn't picked up overnight. Still, I'll tell him to get some salad cream, you never know when Henry Kissinger is going to drop in, do you.

And on the subject of Gourmet Nights...

Sybil: Andre thinks Thursday nights would be best.

Basil: Thursdays?

Andre: I think so.

Basil: Right. And on the other nights we'll just have a big trough of baked beans and garnish it with a couple of dead dogs.

Mmmm, doesn't that sound yummy?

Fawlty Feb: Day Five

Some people...

From: The Hotel Inspector (the fourth episode of the first series, broadcast 10 October, 1975)

Basil: ... if anybody wants you?

Hutchison: I'll be in the lounge. (goes into the bar)

Basil: (calling after him) Anyone in particular?... I mean, Henry Kissinger?... or just anyone with a big net? (goes into the office, where Sybil sits filing her nails) I don't know what it is about this place... I mean, some of the people we get here...

A little later...

Basil: I'm on the telephone.

Hutchison: Well, you haven't finished dialling yet, have you? (he puts his finger on the receiver rest, cutting Basil off; Basil slams the receiver down; Hutchison gets his finger away just in time) Now listen... there is a documentary tonight on BBC2 on Squawking Bird, the leader of the Blackfoot Indians in the late 1860s. Now this commences at eight forty-five and goes on for approximately three-quarters of an hour.

Basil: I'm sorry, are you talking to me?

Hutchison: Indeed I am, yes. Now, is it possible for me to reserve the BBC2 channel for the duration of this televisual feast?

Basil: Why don't you talk properly.

Hutchison: I bet your pardon?

Basil: No, it isn't.

Hutchison: What?

Basil: It is not possible to reserve the BBC2 channel from the commencement of this televisual feast until the moment of the termination of its ending. Thank you so much.

I'm personally going to try very hard to incorporate the term "televisual feast" into my every day vocabulary.

Fawlty Feb: Day Four

[Better late than never.]

From: The Wedding Party (the third episode of the first series, broadcast 3 October, 1975)

Sybil: Tell them you made a mistake.

Basil: Oh, brilliant. Is that what made Britain great? "I'm so sorry I made a mistake". What have you got for a brain - spongecake?

And while we're on the topic of Australian politics, here's what Basil has to say about women a little later in the same episode. I find it's a little bit more amusing if I insert the words Julia Gillard and Kristina Keneally where he refers to "women" and "my wife". I'm so easily amused.

Basil: I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, but my wife has made a mistake, I don't know how she did it, but she did, she's made a complete pudding of the whole thing as usual, it'll be perfectly all right for you to stay. I've sorted it all out, I'm frightfully sorry but you know what women are like, they've only got one brain between the lot of them, well not all of them but some of them have, particularly my wife...