Fawlty Towers

Basil Fawlty:
Polly, what's that smell?

Polly:
Flowers, I just got them from the garden.

Basil Fawlty:
Well, what are you stinking the place up with those for? What's happened to the plastic ones?

Polly:
Being ironed.

Basil Fawlty:
You'll have to forgive him. He's from Barcelona.

Basil Fawlty:
Right, well I'll go and have a lie down then. No I won't; I'll go and hit some guests.

Basil Fawlty:
Manuel will show you to your rooms - if you're lucky.

Sybil Fawlty:
[on the phone] I know... I know... I know... Oh, I know!

Basil Fawlty:
Then why is she telling you?

Basil Fawlty:
Your *name*, please, could I have your name?

Lord Melbury:
Melbury. [the phone rings; Basil picks it up]

Basil Fawlty:
[to Melbury] One second please. [to phone] Hello?... Ah, yes Mr O'Reilly, well it's perfectly simple. When I asked you to build me a wall I was rather hoping that instead of just dumping the bricks in a pile you might have found time to cement them together... you know, one on top of another, in the traditional fashion. [to Melbury, testily] Could you fill it in, please? [to phone] Oh, splendid! Ah, yes, but *when*, Mr O'Reilly? [to Melbury, who is having difficulty with the register] there - there! [to phone] Yes, but when? Yes, yes... ah!... the flu! [to Melbury] *Both* names, please. [to phone] Yes, I should have guessed, Mr. O'Reilly that and the potato famine I suppose...

Lord Melbury:
I beg your pardon?

Basil Fawlty:
Would you put *both* your names, please?... [to phone] Well, will you give me a *date*?

Lord Melbury:
Er... I only use one.

Basil Fawlty:
[with a withering look] You don't have a first name?

Lord Melbury:
No, I am *Lord* Melbury, so I simply sign myself "Melbury". [there is a long, long pause]

Basil Fawlty:
[to phone] Go away. [puts phone down]... I'm *so* sorry to have kept you waiting, your lordship... I *do* apologize, *please* forgive me. Now, was there something, is there something, anything, I can do for you? Anything at all?

Basil Fawlty:
Coming my little piranha fish.

Basil Fawlty:
[about Sybil's laugh] Sounds like somebody machine-gunning a seal.

Basil Fawlty:
We have a Spanish porter at the moment, he's from Barcelona. It'd be quicker to train an *ape*!

Basil Fawlty:
[to Manuel] Stupidissimo! Continental cretin!

[Basil has accidentally set off the burglar alarm during the fire drill, guests start walking out of the building thinking it's the fire alarm, but Basil stops them all in the lobby]

Mrs. Wilson:
Oh I thought that was the drill.

Basil Fawlty:
Yes there is, at twelve o'clock.

Mrs. Wilson:
But, it is twelve o'clock.

Basil Fawlty:
Well not quite.

[to guests that try to leave]

Basil Fawlty:
Excuse me!

Mrs. Wilson:
Well, I make it twelve o'clock.

Basil Fawlty:
[to guests] Im afraid that wasn't the...

Mrs. Wilson:
What time do you make it, Major?

Basil Fawlty:
[annoyed] Look...

Major Gowen:
Burglars about, I think.

Basil Fawlty:
Look, it doesn't matter what time he makes it, it hasn't started yet.

Mrs. Sharp:
What?

Basil Fawlty:
It hasn't started yet!

Mrs. Sharp:
But, that was the bell wasn't it?

Basil Fawlty:
No!

Mrs. Wilson:
He means the *drill* hasn't started yet.

Mr. Sharp:
What drill? We didn't hear a drill.

Basil Fawlty:
[trying to explain] No, no no no, look, look - that was the burglar alarm.

Major Gowen:
See!

Mrs. Wilson:
The burglar alarm?

Basil Fawlty:
Yes!

Mrs. Wilson:
Are there burglars?

Major Gowen:
Evidently!

Basil Fawlty:
[increasingly annoyed] No! Look, what's the matter with you all? It's perfectly simple: we have the fire drill when I ring the fire bell- That wasn't the fire bell!

Mr. Sharp:
Well, how are we supposed to know that wasn't the fire bell?

Basil Fawlty:
Because, it doesn't sound like the fire bell.

All guests at once:
It did.

Basil Fawlty:
It didn't!

Basil Fawlty:
So this Finnish floozy is your karate teacher is she?

Terry:
Well. It's a sort of karate isn't it?

Miss Gatsby:
And don't do anything *we* wouldn't do!

Basil Fawlty:
Oh, just a little breathing, surely.

Basil Fawlty:
Where's Sybil?

Manuel:
?Que?

Basil Fawlty:
Where's Sybil?

Manuel:
Where's... the bill?

Basil Fawlty:
No, not a bill! I own the place!

Basil Fawlty:
Next contestant, Mrs. Sybil Fawlty from Torquay. Specialist subject - the bleeding obvious.

Basil Fawlty:
Don't be alarmed, it's only my wife laughing.

Basil Fawlty:
Do you remember when we were first *manacled* together? We used to laugh quite a lot.

Sybil Fawlty:
Yes, but not at the same time, Basil.

Basil Fawlty:
[to Sybil, while having dinner] Why don't you have another vat of wine, dear?

Manuel:
I know nothing.

[Basil has been listening to classical music in the office instead of typing the lunch menu or hanging a picture in the lobby]

Sybil Fawlty:
You could've had them both done by now if you hadn't spent the whole morning skulking in there, listening to that racket.

Basil Fawlty:
"Racket?" That's *Brahms*! Brahms's third racket!

[Basil has been distracted from getting drinks for several guests for a very long time]

Mr. Wareing:
A GIN AND ORANGE! A LEMON SQUASH! AND A SCOTCH AND WATER, PLEASE!

Basil Fawlty:
[nice and then nasty] Hello, Lord Melbury - BASTARRRDDD!

Basil Fawlty:
[chasing after Sir Richard Morris, who is leaving] Where are you going? Where are you going?

Sir Richard Morris:
We're leaving!

Basil Fawlty:
Oh, don't - please stay - you'll like it here.

Sir Richard Morris:
I've never been to such a place in my life!

[they drive off]

Basil Fawlty:
[yelling after them] You snobs! You stupid... stuck-up... toffee-nosed... half-witted... upper-class piles of... pus!

Basil Fawlty:
[seeing Manual with three trays] Manuel.

Manuel:
?Si?

Basil Fawlty:
[speaking slowly] There is too much butter on those trays.

Manuel:
?Que?

Basil Fawlty:
There is too much butter... on... those... trays.

Manuel:
No. No, no, senor. Not... not "on... those... trays"... No, sir.

Manuel:
[counting the trays instructively] "Uno, dos, tres".

Danny Brown:
[with a strong London accent] Hello! Got a room?

Basil Fawlty:
I beg your pardon?

Danny Brown:
Got a room for tonight, mate?

Basil Fawlty:
I shall have to see, sir. A single?

Danny Brown:
Yeah. No, make it a double. I feel lucky today.

Basil Fawlty:
Thank you, dear. Thank you so much. I don't know where I'd be without you - Land of the Living, probably.

Basil Fawlty:
Your NAME, please. Could I have your name?

Lord Melbury:
Melbury.

[the phone rings; Basil picks it up]

Basil Fawlty:
[to Melbury] One second, please.

Basil Fawlty:
[to phone] Hello?... Ah, yes, Mr. O'Reilly. Well, it's perfectly simple. Ah, when I asked you to build me a wall, I was rather hoping that instead of just, uh, dumping the bricks in a pile you might have found time to cement them together, you know, one on top of the other in the traditional fashion.

Basil Fawlty:
[to Melbury, testily] Could you fill it in, please?

Basil Fawlty:
[to phone] Oh, splendid! Ah, yes-yes-yes, ah, but WHEN, Mr O'Reilly?

Basil Fawlty:
[to Melbury, who is having difficulty with the register] There-there-there!

Basil Fawlty:
[to phone] Yes-yes-yes, but when? Yes, yes... yes, yes... ah!... the flu! Yes.

Basil Fawlty:
[to Melbury] BOTH names, please.

Basil Fawlty:
[to phone] Yes, I should have guessed, Mr. O'Reilly. That and the potato famine I suppose.

Lord Melbury:
I beg your pardon?

Basil Fawlty:
Would you put BOTH your names, please?

Basil Fawlty:
[to phone] Well, will you give me a DATE?

Lord Melbury:
Er... I only use one.

Basil Fawlty:
[with a withering look] You don't have a first name?

Lord Melbury:
No, I am Lord Melbury, so I simply sign "Melbury".

[there is a long, long pause]

Basil Fawlty:
[to phone] Go away.

Basil Fawlty:
[puts phone down] I'm SO sorry to have kept you waiting, your lordship. I DO apologize. Please, please, accept my forgiveness. Now, is there something, ah, something, anything, that I can do for you? Anything at all?

[Basil finds someone going through the food in the kitchen]

Basil Fawlty:
Sybil, may I introduce the gentleman who's just opened the self-service department here. Mr...?

Mr. Carnegie:
Carnegie.

Basil Fawlty:
Mr. Carnegie, the scavenger gourmet from...?

Mr. Carnegie:
The Public Health department.

[Manuel wants to keep his pet rat]

Manuel:
[to Sybil] Mrs. Fawlty, please understand: If he go, I go.

Basil Fawlty:
Well, goodbye.

Mr. Carnegie:
I think these premises do not come up to the standard required by this authority. Unless appropriate steps are taken instantly, I shall have no alternative but to prosecute or recommend closure to the appropriate committee of the council, uh, specifically: The lack of proper cleaning routines, dirty and greasy filters, greasy and encrusted deep fat fryer, dirty, cracked and stained food preparation surfaces, dirty, cracked and missing wall and floor tiles, dirty, marked and stained utensils, dirty and greasy interior surfaces of the ventilator hood...

Basil Fawlty:
Yes, about the deep fat fryer...

Mr. Carnegie:
...inadequate temperature control and storage of dangerous foodstuffs, storage of cooked and raw meat in same trays, storage of raw meat above confectionery with consequent dripping of meat juices onto cream products, refrigerator seals loose and cracked, ice box undefrosted, and refrigerator overstocked...

Basil Fawlty:
Yes, say no more.

Mr. Carnegie:
...um, food handling routines suspect, evidence of smoking in food preparation area, dirty and grubby food handling overalls, lack of wash hand basin - which you gave us a verbal assurance you'll have installed at our last visit six months ago - and two dead pigeons in the water tank.

Basil Fawlty:
Otherwise O.K.?

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

Sybil Fawlty:
[about Manuel's rat] Perhaps it would be simplest to have him put to S-L-E-E-P.

Basil Fawlty:
Who? Him or the rat? Might get a discount if we have them both done.

Manuel:
'Spleep'?

Basil Fawlty:
Do sit down, Mr. Carnegie.

Sybil Fawlty:
He just has, Basil.

Mr. Carnegie:
On a plate of veal.

Basil Fawlty:
Has it put you off?

Mr. Carnegie:
What?

Basil Fawlty:
Has it put you off the veal, at all?

Mr. Carnegie:
Well, I'm not eating THAT one if THAT'S what you mean!

Ronald:
Don't shush me!

Basil Fawlty:
Well, I'm sorry, but th-th-th-the veal is, in fact, off. Well, it was never really on, quite honestly - that's a misprint.

Ronald:
A misprint?

Basil Fawlty:
Yes, it should say um... eel.

Ronald:
Eel Escalope?

[Terry is examining a piece of possibly-poisoned veal the cat had been chewing on]

Terry:
Right! Now, how's the cat?

Basil Fawlty:
[Incredulously] How's the c...? How's the cat? We're about to take the life of a public health inspector and you want to know "how's the cat"? IT'S GONE TO LONDON TO SEE THE QUEEN! What're we going to do?

Polly:
[bringing in the cat] He's fine!

Terry:
Great!

Basil Fawlty:
[leaping about hysterically] HOORAY! HOORAY! THE CAT LIVES! THE CAT LIVES! LONG LIVE THE CAT! What are we going to DO?

Terry:
Mr. Fawlty - if the cat is all right, that means that slice is all right.

Ronald:
[looking up at Basil who towers a foot above him] You know something? You're getting my dander up, you grotty little man!

Basil Fawlty:
Well, of course it's a rat. You have rats in Spain, don't you - or did Franco have them all shot?

Basil Fawlty:
I'll put an ad in the papers: "Wanted, kind home for enormous savage rodent. Answers to the name of Sybil."

Basil Fawlty:
Manuel... my wife informs me that you're... depressed. Let me tell you something. Depression is a very bad thing. It's like a virus. If you don't stamp on it, it spreads throughout the mind, and then one day you wake up in the morning and you... you can't face life any more!

Sybil Fawlty:
And then you open a hotel.

[the Major is in the bar with a rifle, stalking a rat. Basil is behind him, unaware of what the Major is doing]

Basil Fawlty:
Do you need any help, Major?

Major Gowen:
Don't move!

[Points the rifle at Basil]

Major Gowen:
...Vermin

[Basil mishears and rolls eyes]

Basil Fawlty:
We haven't got any this week, Major.

Major Gowen:
Hm?

Basil Fawlty:
No Germans staying this week, Major.

[Polly struggles to keep Mr. Carnegie, the health inspector, from learning of Manuel's pet rat, Basil - named after Basil Fawlty - running loose in the hotel]

Manuel:
The Major try to kill Basil!

Sybil Fawlty:
Kill BASIL?

Manuel:
No, not Mr. Fawlty. I mean Basil, my little...

Polly:
[suddenly, before Manuel can say 'Rat' in front of the health inspector] RATATOUILLE!

Mr. Carnegie:
Basil the little...

Polly:
Ratatouille. The chef calls the ratatouille 'Basil' because he puts quite a lot of basil in it.

Manuel:
He put Basil in the ratatouille?

Polly:
Yes!

Manuel:
ARGGGHHHHHHHH!

[Manuel runs off to the kitchen screaming, Polly following]

Sybil Fawlty:
[charmingly to Mr. Carnegie] He's from Barcelona.

[Polly, with a piece of cheese, is looking for Basil the Rat under a table]

Polly:
Basil. Basil? Cheesies! Basil...

Basil Fawlty:
[coming up behind her] Yes?

[Polly bangs her head beneath the table]

Basil Fawlty:
Here I am.

Polly:
[coming out from under the table] Oh, Mr. Fawlty I...

Basil Fawlty:
[taking the cheese] Oh, that's for me, is it? Thank you.

Polly:
[as he eats it] Shall I get you some more? There's plenty...

Basil Fawlty:
He's called "Basil," is he? Don't play dumb with me. I trusted you. You're responsible for this!

[Last lines:
as Manuel drags the fainted Basil across the room in the background]

Sybil Fawlty:
I'm afraid it's started to rain again.

Sybil Fawlty:
I cannot abide cruelty to living creatures.

Basil Fawlty:
Well I'm a creature, you can abide it to me!

Sybil Fawlty:
You're not living.

Sybil Fawlty:
They all said, at one time or another, how on Earth did the two of us ever get together. "Black magic," my mother says.

Basil Fawlty:
Well, she'd know, wouldn't she? Her and that cat.

Mr. Carnegie:
The only "gourmets" you'll find scavenging in THIS kitchen will be Kamikaze ones.

Basil Fawlty:
Can't we get you on Mastermind, Sybil? Next contestant: Mrs. Sybil Fawlty from Torquay. Specialist subject - the bleeding obvious.

Terry:
What the eye don't see, the chef gets away with.

Ronald:
Look, I was just trying to give an order to your waiter and he walked away while I was doing it.

Basil Fawlty:
Hm?

Ronald:
Well, he wasn't paying attention at all.

Basil Fawlty:
I'm so sorry. What were you saying?

Ronald:
The waiter wasn't listening when I was giving him our order. He seemed more interested in my fianc?e's legs.

Basil Fawlty:
Really? May I?

[Basil and Manuel look intently under the table in the area of his fianc?e's legs]

Terry:
I HAVEN'T MADE ANY BLEEDIN' RATATOUILLE!

Major Gowen:
But they spread disease, Fawlty! He was sitting there, on that table! Eating the nuts, if you please!

Basil Fawlty:
[to himself] He's really gone this time...

Major Gowen:
[measuring the length with his hands] It was like that, about that size.

Major Gowen:
[widens the length] That with a tail.

Basil Fawlty:
[confused] I'm sorry? What did you say it was?

Major Gowen:
Vermin. A dirty rat!

[Basil, having had his money mistaken for Mrs. Richards' lost money, becomes delirious with glee when her vase arrives along with her missing money, which Basil now claims to replace his original money]

Basil Fawlty:
[seeing Mrs. Richards enter] Hello, Mrs. Richards, how lovely to see...

Basil Fawlty:
[gasps] Your beautiful vase that you bought yesterday has just arrived. Now, remind me: the money that you have there - is it yours or mine?

Mrs. Richards:
I told you. It's mine.

Basil Fawlty:
Your absolutely sure?

Mrs. Richards:
Yes. I am.

Basil Fawlty:
But you're still ten pounds short?

Mrs. Richards:
Yes.

Basil Fawlty:
Ah, Polly, uh, give Mrs. Richards this, would you?

[hands Polly a banknote which she gives to Mrs Richards]

Mrs. Richards:
[seeing the money in Basil's hand] What's that?

Basil Fawlty:
This is MINE!

[Mrs. Richards comes downstairs for lavatory paper; Polly thinks she wants writing paper]

Mrs. Richards:
Girl, there's no paper in my room. Why don't you check these things? That's what you're being paid for, isn't it?

Polly:
We don't put it in the rooms.

Mrs. Richards:
What?

Polly:
Well, we keep it in the lounge.

Mrs. Richards:
[aghast] In the lounge?

Polly:
I'll get you some. Do you want plain ones or ones with our address on it?

Mrs. Richards:
Address on it?

Polly:
How many sheets? Well, how many are you going to use?

Mrs. Richards:
Manager!

Mrs. Richards:
[Scolding Polly for not revealing where her eyeglasses were located] Are you blind? They were on my head all the whole time, didn't you see?

Polly:
Yes!

Mrs. Richards:
Didn't God give you eyes?

Polly:
Yes, but I don't use 'em 'cause it wears the batteries out.

Major Gowen:
Going to have a flutter, Fawlty?

Basil Fawlty:
No. No, no, no, no, no.

Sybil Fawlty:
No, Basil doesn't bet anymore. Do you, dear?

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

Sybil Fawlty:
And we don't want it opened up again, do we Basil?

Basil Fawlty:
No, YOU don't, dear.

Manuel:
[after Manuel loses Basil's money by "knowing nothing"] See, I know nothing!

Basil Fawlty:
I'm gonna sell you to a vivisectionist!

Mrs. Richards:
Are you the manager?

Basil Fawlty:
I am the owner, madam.

Mrs. Richards:
What?

Basil Fawlty:
I am the owner.

Mrs. Richards:
I want to speak to the manager.

Basil Fawlty:
I am the manager, too.

Mrs. Richards:
What?

Basil Fawlty:
I am the manager as well.

Manuel:
Manajer, he manajer.

[Basil smacks him]

Mrs. Richards:
Oh, you're Watt!

Basil Fawlty:
I'm the manager!

Mrs. Richards:
What?

Basil Fawlty:
I'm the manager!

Mrs. Richards:
Yes, I know, you've just told me. What's the matter with you?

Basil Fawlty:
Could you verify that, Major?

Major Gowen:
What? Well, what, old boy?

Basil Fawlty:
The-the-the... the money I gave you last night? Oh, you know, "for my wife's present." You remember, I gave it to you just before you went to the theater.

Major Gowen:
The theater?

Basil Fawlty:
Well, yes... You-you-you-you remember! Hm? Hm?

Basil Fawlty:
[sotto] The money I won on the horse.

Major Gowen:
A horse?

Mrs. Richards:
What are you whispering? What are you saying?

Major Gowen:
He says he won it on a horse.

Mrs. Richards:
Won it on a horse!

Basil Fawlty:
It doesn't matter. Do you remember me giving it to you?

[Looking confused]

Basil Fawlty:
[Desperate] Oh, think, please, think!

Major Gowen:
[Thinking hard for a moment] What was the question again?

Sybil Fawlty:
If I find out the money on that horse was yours, you know what I'll do, Basil.

Basil Fawlty:
You'll have to sew 'em back on first.

Sybil Fawlty:
You seem very jolly, Basil.

Basil Fawlty:
Hm?

Sybil Fawlty:
You seem very jolly.

Basil Fawlty:
Jolly?

Sybil Fawlty:
Yes, jolly. Sort of happy.

Basil Fawlty:
[with feigned reminiscence] Oh, happy. Yes, I remember that. No, not that I noticed, dear. Well, I'll report it if it happens, though.

Sybil Fawlty:
Well, you look happy to me, Basil.

Basil Fawlty:
No, I'm not, dear.

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

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

Basil Fawlty:
A satisfied customer. We should have him stuffed.

Basil Fawlty:
Tie's a bit bright, isn't it, Major?

Major Gowen:
What?

Basil Fawlty:
For a memorial service?

Major Gowen:
Why... I didn't like the chap.

Mrs. Richards:
[to Polly, acidly] Isn't there anyone else who could help me? Really! This is the most appalling service I've ever...

Polly:
What a good idea. Manuel? Could you lend Mrs. Richards your assistance in connection with her reservation?

[Manuel looks around, confused]

Mrs. Richards:
[to Manuel] Now, I 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 make sure I have it.

Manuel:
Que?

Mrs. Richards:
What?

Manuel:
Que?

Mrs. Richards:
Kay?

Manuel:
Si.

Mrs. Richards:
Sea?

[Manuel nods]

Mrs. Richards:
Kay, sea? Kay sea? What are you trying to say?

Manuel:
No. No, no, no. Que... what.

Mrs. Richards:
Kay Watt?

Manuel:
Si, que: what.

Mrs. Richards:
C.K. Watt?

Manuel:
Yes!

Mrs. Richards:
Who is C. K. Watt?

Manuel:
Que?

Mrs. Richards:
Is he the manager, Mr. Watt?

Manuel:
Oh, manajer!

Mrs. Richards:
He is?

Manuel:
Ah, Mister Fawlty!

Mrs. Richards:
What?

Manuel:
Fawlty!

Mrs. Richards:
What are you talking about, you silly little man?

Mrs. Richards:
[to Polly] What is going on here? I ask him for my room and he tells me the manager is a Mr. Watt, aged forty.

Manuel:
No, no, no, no. FAWLTY!

Mrs. Richards:
He's faulty? What's wrong with him?

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

Mrs. Richards:
The manager's from Barcelona?

Manuel:
No, no, no, he's from-a Swanage.

Polly:
And you're in 22.

Mrs. Richards:
What?

Polly:
You're in Room 22. Manuel, take these cases up to 22, will you?

Mrs. Richards:
Now listen to me: I booked a room with a bath. When I book a room with a bath, I expect to get a bath.

Basil Fawlty:
[indicating] You've got a bath!

Mrs. Richards:
I am not paying seven pounds, twenty pence per night, plus V.A.T., for a room without a bath.

Basil Fawlty:
[opening the bathroom door] There is your bath!

Mrs. Richards:
[looking at it] You call that a bath? It's not big enough to drown a mouse. It's disgraceful.

Basil Fawlty:
I wish you were a mouse.

Mrs. Richards:
And another thing. I asked for a room with a view.

Basil Fawlty:
[to Manuel then back to Mrs. Richard] Deaf, mad AND blind. Uh, this is the view as far as I can remember, madam. Yes. Yes, this is it.

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

Basil Fawlty:
[going to window, indicating] Well, that is Torquay, ma'am.

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

Basil Fawlty:
Well, may I ask what you were expecting to see out of a Torquay hotel bedroom window? Sydney Opera House, perhaps? The Hanging Gardens of Babylon? Herds of wildebeasts swinging majestically...

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

Basil Fawlty:
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 Fawlty:
Well, may I suggest that you move to a hotel closer to the sea...

Basil Fawlty:
[sotto]... or preferably in it?

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

Basil Fawlty:
Why? Because Krakatoa's not erupting at the moment?

Mrs. Richards:
No, because the room is cold, the bath is too small, the view is invisible, and the radio doesn't work.

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

Mrs. Richards:
What?

Basil Fawlty:
[crossing over to it] I'll see if I can't fix it, you scabby old bat!

[He turns it on, loudly; it works fine; Manuel plugs his ears]

Basil Fawlty:
I think we got something then!

Mrs. Richards:
What?

Basil Fawlty:
[loudly] I think we got something then!

Mrs. Richards:
[looking at Manuel with his fingers in his ears] What ARE you doing?

Manuel:
Que?

Basil Fawlty:
[after smacking Manuel's head] Madam, don't think me rude, but, may I ask, do you by any chance have a hearing aid?

Mrs. Richards:
A what?

Basil Fawlty:
A HEARING AID!

Mrs. Richards:
Yes, I do have a hearing aid.

Basil Fawlty:
Would you like me to get it mended?

Mrs. Richards:
Mended? It's working perfectly all right.

Basil Fawlty:
No, it isn't.

Mrs. Richards:
I haven't got it turned on at the moment.

Basil Fawlty:
Why not?

Mrs. Richards:
The battery runs down.

Manuel:
Ah, your horse. It win! It win!

Basil Fawlty:
[wanting him to keep quiet about his gambling venture] Shhh-shh-shh, Manuel. You - know - nothing.

Manuel:
You ALWAYS say, Mr. Fawlty, but I learn.

Basil Fawlty:
What?

Manuel:
I learn. I learn.

Basil Fawlty:
No-no-no-no-no.

Manuel:
I get better.

Basil Fawlty:
No-no. No-no, you don't understand.

Manuel:
I do.

Basil Fawlty:
No, you don't.

Manuel:
Hey, I do understand that!

Basil Fawlty:
Shhh-shh-shh-shh-shh. You know nothing... about... the horse.

Manuel:
[parroting] I know "nothing... about... the horse."

Basil Fawlty:
Yes.

Manuel:
Ah. Which horse?

Basil Fawlty:
What?

Manuel:
Which horse I know nothing?

Basil Fawlty:
My horse, nitwit!

Manuel:
Your horse - Nitwit.

Basil Fawlty:
No-no-no. Dragonfly.

Manuel:
It won!

Basil Fawlty:
Yes, I know!

Manuel:
I know it won, too!

Basil Fawlty:
What?

Manuel:
I put money on for you. You give me money; I go to betting shop.

Basil Fawlty:
Yes, I know, I know, I know.

Manuel:
Then why you say I know nothing?

Basil Fawlty:
[desperately] Look, look, look, you know the horse?

Manuel:
Uh, Nitwit or Dragonfly?

Basil Fawlty:
Dragonfly! There isn't a horse called Nit... YOU'RE the Nitwit!

Manuel:
What is Witnit?

Basil Fawlty:
It doesn't matter. Look, it doesn't matter. Oh, I can spend the rest of my life having this conversation. Now, please, please, try to understand before one of us dies.

Manuel:
I try.

Basil Fawlty:
You're going to forget everything you know about Nitwit.

Manuel:
No, no. Dragonfly.

Basil Fawlty:
Dragonfly!

[Basil is mouthing words to Mrs. Richards, so she is forced to turn up her hearing aid as high as it will go]

Sybil Fawlty:
[quietly] Basil, don't! Don't!

[Basil is still mouthing words]

Mrs. Richards:
Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. I haven't got it turned up enough.

Sybil Fawlty:
[shouting] Basil!

Basil Fawlty:
[at full volume now, right into Mrs. Richards' face] I SAID... WE SHOULD GO...!

Mrs. Richards:
[jumps back with a shock, hitting her head on the shelf] Oh! Oh, my head! My head!

Basil Fawlty:
Has it come away?

Mrs. Richards:
Oh!

Sybil Fawlty:
[to Mrs. Richards as she elbows Basil] Did you bang your head?

Mrs. Richards:
Yes, yes!

Sybil Fawlty:
Oh dear, let me have a look.

Basil Fawlty:
You'd better go and lie down before something ELSE happens.

Sybil Fawlty:
Shut up, Basil!

Mrs. Richards:
Why don't you call the police?

Sybil Fawlty:
Well, we will, the moment we've searched the rooms.

Mrs. Richards:
[as she exits] My money's been taken!

Sybil Fawlty:
Yes, yes, I know. Try not to speak.

Basil Fawlty:
[picking up a particle] Is this a piece of your brain?

Sybil Fawlty:
[kicks Basil in the shin; he sinks into chair] Shut up, Basil.

Mrs. Richards:
Eighty-five pounds.

Sybil Fawlty:
[to Mrs. Richards] Take my arm.

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

Basil Fawlty:
"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 Fawlty:
[calling to Mrs. Richards as she to her room after being injured] Are you sure you can manage?

Basil Fawlty:
And if you give us any more trouble, I shall visit you in the small hours and put a bat up your nightdress.

Sybil Fawlty:
Basil!

Basil Fawlty:
Well, that was fun, wasn't it dear, the odd moment like that? It's almost worth staying alive for, isn't it? It's nice to share a moment like that, isn't it, dear? It's what marriage is all about. I know - I read it on the back of a matchbox.

Sybil Fawlty:
[annoyed] Basil, sometimes...

Basil Fawlty:
[putting an arm around Sybil] Seriously, Sybil, do you remember, when we were first manacled together, we used to laugh quite a lot?

Sybil Fawlty:
[she pushes him off and exits] Yes, but not at the same time, Basil.

Basil Fawlty:
[to himself] Ah, that's true. That was a warning all right, I guess? Should have spotted that, shouldn't I? Zhoom! What was that? That was your life, Mate! Oh, that was quick. Do I get another? Sorry, Mate. That's your lot.

Sybil Fawlty:
[returning] Basil.

Basil Fawlty:
[to himself] Back to the world of dreams.

Basil Fawlty:
[to Sybil] Yes, dear?

Basil Fawlty:
[Frantically typing at a typewriter] He's out! He's flat out! So Andr?'s, uh...

Sybil Fawlty:
Who is?

Basil Fawlty:
What!

Sybil Fawlty:
Who ls out?

Basil Fawlty:
Kurt! Who do you think, Henry Kissinger?

Sybil Fawlty:
What do you mean 'Out'?

Basil Fawlty:
He's *Drunk*!

Sybil Fawlty:
Drunk?

Basil Fawlty:
Drunk! Soused! Potted! Inebriated! Got it?

Sybil Fawlty:
I don't believe it.

Basil Fawlty:
[Still typing frantically] Neither do I. Perhaps it's a dream.

[Smacks his head three times on desk]

Basil Fawlty:
No, it's not a dream; we're stuck with it. Right!

[Basil's car won't start]

Basil Fawlty:
START! Start, you vicious bastard! Come on! Oh, my God! I'm warning you, if you don't start...! I'll count to three: 1... 2... 3, right, that's it! I've had enough!

[Gets out]

Basil Fawlty:
You treaded on just once too often! Right! Well, don't say I haven't warned you! I've laid it on the line for you time and time again! Right! So, this is it! I'm gonna give you a damn good thrashing!

Basil Fawlty:
So, uh, this is your new menu.

Colonel Hall:
[reading] Duck with orange; duck with cherries; duck surprise.

Mrs. Hall:
What's duck surprise?

Basil Fawlty:
Er... that's duck without orange or cherries.

Colonel Hall:
I mean, is this all there is - duck?

Basil Fawlty:
Umm... yes... done, of course, in three extremely different ways.

Colonel Hall:
And what do you do if you don't like duck?

Basil Fawlty:
Ah, well, if you don't like duck, uhhh, you're rather stuck.

Basil Fawlty:
[indicating Sybil] This - Basil's wife.

Basil Fawlty:
[indicating himself] This - Basil. This - smack on head.

[smacks Manuel on the head]

[Basil learns of Kurt's crush on Manuel]

Basil Fawlty:
I should never have hired a Frenchman.

Polly:
He's Greek, Mr. Fawlty.

Basil Fawlty:
Greek?

Polly:
Of course.

Basil Fawlty:
Well, that's even worse. I mean, they invented it.

Sybil Fawlty:
Are you still here, Basil?

Basil Fawlty:
No, I went a couple minutes ago, dear, but I expect I'll be back shortly.

Colonel Hall:
[ordering drinks] Two small and dry.

Basil Fawlty:
[taking it as a disparaging remark against Mrs. Hall] Oh, I wouldn't say that.

Colonel Hall:
What?

Basil Fawlty:
I don't know...

Colonel Hall:
Two small dry sherries!

Basil Fawlty:
Where's Sybil?

Manuel:
?Que?

Basil Fawlty:
Where's Sy-bil?

Manuel:
Where's... the bill?

Basil Fawlty:
No, no, not a bill! I own the place!

Sybil Fawlty:
Are you going to do the car?

Basil Fawlty:
In a moment, my little piranha fish.

Basil Fawlty:
[to Sybil, while having dinner] Well, I better go and have a word with the guests. Why don't you have another vat of wine, dear?

Basil Fawlty:
[overseeing dinner service, he approaches a table where the Heaths are eating] Good evening. Everything to your satisfaction?

Mr. Heath:
Oh...

Mrs. Hall:
Well, uh...

Master Heath:
[cutting in] I don't like the chips.

Basil Fawlty:
Sorry.

Master Heath:
The chips are awful.

Basil Fawlty:
Oh, dear. What's, uh, what's wrong with them, then?

Master Heath:
They're the wrong shape and they're just awful.

Mrs. Hall:
I'm afraid he gets everything cooked the way he likes it at home.

Basil Fawlty:
Ah, does he, does he?

Master Heath:
Yes, I do, and it's better than this pig's garbage.

Mrs. Hall:
Now, Ronald!

Master Heath:
[to Basil] These eggs look like YOU laid them.

Mrs. Hall:
Ronald!

Mr. Heath:
[to Ronald] Now look-look-look here, old chap...

Mrs. Hall:
[severely to Mr. Heath] Shut up! Leave him alone!

Mrs. Hall:
[sweetly to Basil] He's very clever... rather highly strung.

Basil Fawlty:
[forcing himself to smile] Yes... Yes, he should be.

Master Heath:
[to Basil] Haven't you got any PROPER chips?

Basil Fawlty:
Well, these ARE proper French-fried potatoes. You see, the chef IS Continental.

Master Heath:
Couldn't you get an English one?

Mrs. Heath:
Why don't you eat just one or two, dear?

Master Heath:
They're the wrong SHAPE.

Basil Fawlty:
Oh, dear... What shape you usually have? Mickey Mouse shape? Smarties shape? Amphibious landing-craft shape? Poke-in-the-eye shape?

Master Heath:
God, you're dumb.

Mrs. Heath:
Oh, now.

Basil Fawlty:
[gritting his teeth] Is there something we can get you instead, SONNY?

Master Heath:
I'd like some bread and salad cream.

Basil Fawlty:
To eat? Well, there's the bread, and there's the mayonnaise.

Master Heath:
I said "salad cream", stupid.

Basil Fawlty:
We don't HAVE any salad cream. The chef made this freshly this morning.

Master Heath:
What a dump!

Mr. Heath:
Th-h-h-h-h-h-h-his is very good.

Mrs. Heath:
[firmly] He likes salad cream.

Master Heath:
That's PUKE, that is.

Basil Fawlty:
Well, at least it's FRESH puke!

Mrs. Heath:
Might I ask why you don't have proper salad cream. I mean, most restaurants...

Basil Fawlty:
Well, the, uh, the chef usually buys it only on special occassions. You know, Gourmet Nights and so on, but, um, when he's got the bottle - OH! - he's genius with it. He can unscrew the cap like Robert Currie. It's a treat to watch, and then - ptptptpt! - right in the plate. Never on the walls. Magic. Mind you, he's a wizard with a tin opener, too. He's got a Pulizer Prize for that. He can out 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. I mean, you never know when Henry Kissenger is gonna drop in, do you?

Sybil Fawlty:
[a party of four cancels its dinner reservation] One of them's ill

Basil Fawlty:
Well, let's hope it's nothing trivial.

Sybil Fawlty:
[with only four people attending the grand opening of Gourmet Night] I should never have let you write that advert. Fancy putting "no riff-raff."

Polly:
[trying to clue Basil unto a problem while in front of his guests] It's Kurt.

Basil Fawlty:
Yes?

Polly:
He's POTTED... the shimps.

Basil Fawlty:
What?

Polly:
He's POTTED... the shimps.

Basil Fawlty:
Shrimps? We're not having shrimps tonight, Polly. Now, if you would...

Polly:
He's SOUSED... the herrings.

Basil Fawlty:
What're you on about?

Polly:
He's PICKED the onions and he's SMASHED the eggs IN HIS CUPS, UNDER THE TABLE.

Basil Fawlty:
I'm so sorry. He's from Barcelona.

Colonel Hall:
Waitress.

Polly:
Yes?

Colonel Hall:
There's a hair in my mousse.

Polly:
Well, don't talk too loud. Everybody will want one.

Colonel Hall:
WHAT?

Sybil Fawlty:
Can I help?

Basil Fawlty:
Yes. Go and kill yourself!

[Fawlty's car breaks down again]

Basil Fawlty:
START! Start, you vicious bastard! Come on! Oh my God! I'm warning you - if you don't start! I'll count to three! One... two... three - right! That's it! I've had enough! You've tried it on just once too often! Right! Well, don't say I hadn't warned you! I've laid it on the line for you time and time again! Right! Well, this is it! I'm gonna give you a DAMN GOOD THRASHING!

[Fawlty runs off, then comes back and starts furiously beating the car with a tree branch]

Basil Fawlty:
Duck's off, sorry!

Basil Fawlty:
I'll ruin you... you'll never waitress in Torquay again!

Manuel:
[helping Basil improvise an excuse for his wife's absence at their anniversary party] Is surprise party?

Basil Fawlty:
Yes!

Manuel:
She no here.

Basil Fawlty:
Right.

Manuel:
That is surprise!

Sybil Fawlty:
You don't have to worry about Polly forgetting anything important, Basil.

Basil Fawlty:
Don't I?

Sybil Fawlty:
No, you don't.

Basil Fawlty:
Oh, good. How splendid.

Sybil Fawlty:
No, SHE doesn't forget things.

Basil Fawlty:
Doesn't she?

Sybil Fawlty:
Well, can you remember the last time she did?

Basil Fawlty:
No, I can't, but then my memory isn't very good.

Sybil Fawlty:
You can say that again.

Basil Fawlty:
Can I, dear? Oh, thank you.

Basil Fawlty:
[clears throat] I've forgotten what it was.

Basil Fawlty:
Do I detect the smell of burning martyr?

Roger:
Did you hear that? I said "Syb ill."

Basil Fawlty:
Yes?

Roger:
Wha', chu got it?

Basil Fawlty:
No, no, no, I'm fine.

Roger:
[explaining] No, no, no. Well, I call her... I call her "Syb," right? So "Syb - ill." "Bas - well."

Manuel:
"MAN - well!"

Virginia:
Has the doctor been in?

Roger:
No, but the dentist's had a good look.

Basil Fawlty:
Look, it's... look it's... it's perfectly Sybil. Simple's not well. She's lost her throat and her voice hurts.

Manuel:
[to the workman, two of whom are clean-shaven] Please, which one is man with beard?

Polly:
Don't panic!

Basil Fawlty:
[shouting] WHAT ELSE IS THERE TO DO?

Basil Fawlty:
Oh, good morning, Major. I'm so sorry, I'm afraid the dining room door seems to have disappeared.

Major Gowen:
Oh yes, oh yes, so it has! It used to be there!

Basil Fawlty:
Yes, well, I was silly enough to leave the hotel for a few minutes, and...

Major Gowen:
Yes, well, well, these things happen, you know.

Major Gowen:
[looking around lobby] Now, I wonder where it's got to.

[Looks at the Major in disbelief]

Major Gowen:
Oh well, don't worry, it's bound to turn up.

Basil Fawlty:
[on the phone with O'Reilly] So, next week's definite then, is it? Oh, good. Well, that'll be nice, won't it? I mean, we've waited for that wall about as long as Hadrian.

[pause]

Basil Fawlty:
No-no, Hadrian. The emperor Hadrian. He had a wall... It doesn't matter. I'll explain next week. Thank you so much. Goodbye.

O'Reilly:
The trouble with you, Mr. Fawlty, is that you worry too much. You keep it up like this and you'll have a stroke before 50. Stone dead you'll be.

Basil Fawlty:
Suits me.

Manuel:
Ah... Hello, men!

Lurphy - workman #1:
Good day, now.

Manuel:
Eh, you are men!

Lurphy - workman #1:
You... What?

Manuel:
You're men!

Lurphy - workman #1:
Are you tryin' to be funny?

Manuel:
Huh?

Lurphy - workman #1:
I said, are you tryin' to be funny?

Kerr - workman #3:
Not here, sport, not here.

Manuel:
You are men with Orelly!

Jones - workman #2:
What?

Manuel:
You Orelly men!

Lurphy - workman #1:
What does that mean?

Manuel:
You Orelly!

Lurphy - workman #1:
[angry] You watch it!

Manuel:
Where Orelly?

Jones - workman #2:
What's he goin' on about?

Kerr - workman #3:
He means O'Reilly.

Lurphy - workman #1:
Wha...! Oh, yes! Dat's right, yeah. We are "Orelly men."

Lurphy - workman #1:
[to the other workmen under his breath] Thick as a plank.

Sybil Fawlty:
[exasperated] O'Reilly, I have seen more intelligent creatures than you lying on their backs at the bottom of ponds! I've seen better organized creatures than you running 'round farmyards with their heads cut off! Now collect your things and GET OUT! [Strikes O'Riley on his rear with her umbrella, prompting him into crawling away from her] I never want to see you or any of your men in my hotel again!

[Basil is raving at Polly about the remodeling fiasco]

Polly:
Well, it's not my fault!

Basil Fawlty:
You fell asleep and it's not your fault?

Polly:
He forgot to wake me!

Basil Fawlty:
WHO forgot to wake you?

Polly:
[pause] It IS my fault.

Basil Fawlty:
[shouts] MANUEL! I KNEW IT! MANUEL!

Manuel:
[to garden gnome] No room 16. No room 16. No, no pay, no Room 16!

Basil Fawlty:
[to Polly] Oh, I see, it's my fault, is it? Oh, of course, there I was, thinking it was your fault because you had been left in charge, or Manuel's fault for not waking you, and all the time it was MY fault. Oh, it's so obvious now. I've seen the light! Well, I must be punished then, mustn't I?

[spanking himself]

Basil Fawlty:
You're a naughty boy, Fawlty!

Sybil Fawlty:
Good morning, Major.

Major Gowen:
Very well, thank you.

Sybil Fawlty:
And you're going to wear that jacket, are you?

Basil Fawlty:
Yes, I am, thank you, dear, yes.

Sybil Fawlty:
You just haven't a clue, have you?

Basil Fawlty:
You wouldn't understand, dear. It's called style.

Basil Fawlty:
[Over the phone] Now, look here, O'Reilly, I want my dining room door put back in and this other one taken away by 100, do you understand? No, no, no, I don't want to debate about it. If you're not over here in 20 minutes with my door, I shall come over there and insert a large garden gnome in you. Good day.

O'Reilly:
Well, let me tell you, if the good lord meant us to worry, he would'a given us things to worry about.

Basil Fawlty:
He has - My wife! She will be back here in 4 hours and she can kill a man at 10 paces with one blow off her tongue. How am I supposed not to worry?

O'Reilly:
I'm tellin' you, if the good lord...

Basil Fawlty:
...Is mentioned once more, I shall move you closer to him. [Desperately] Now, PLEASE...

Sybil Fawlty:
[Noticing her garden gnome on the front desk] Oh, Basil?

Basil Fawlty:
Yes, dear?

Sybil Fawlty:
What is THAT doing here?

Basil Fawlty:
It's your garden gnome, dear. Isn't it nice?

Sybil Fawlty:
Well, don't you think it would be better in the garden?

Basil Fawlty:
Yes, dear. Good idea.

Sybil Fawlty:
Oh, no-no-no, Basil. Put him back. On second thought I think I'll leave him in charge. I'm sure he's cheap and he'll certainly be better at it than you are.

Basil Fawlty:
Now while we're away - gone - clean the windows.

[Manuel looks very confused]

Basil Fawlty:
Oh, look... Cuando nosotoros somos... away. What's "away" in Spanish?

Manuel:
Eh...?

Basil Fawlty:
You know, away, AWAY!

Manuel:
Oh, si si!

Basil Fawlty:
[grabbing Manuel before he scurries away] No, not you! While we're away, CLEAN the windows!

Manuel:
Green?

Basil Fawlty:
No, no, look. Clean...

[Pulls handkerchief from pocket, puts it in Manuels hand and makes a cleaning motion]

Basil Fawlty:
...the windows! Clean...

Manuel:
[still not comprehending but parroting Basil]... clean... clean...

Basil Fawlty:
...the windows.

[exasperated, Basil picks up Manuel and carries him under his arm into the dining room]

Manuel:
AHH!

Major Gowen:
[as the two pass] Morning, Fawlty!

Basil Fawlty:
[carrying Manuel] Morning Major!

Major Gowen:
[setting Manuel down and forcing him to clean the windows] The windows, see? Look. Clean the windows!

Manuel:
[finally getting it] Si! Comprendo, comprendo.

Basil Fawlty:
[to a nurse] Don't touch me! I don't know where you've been!

Basil Fawlty:
Is there something wrong?

German Guest:
Will you stop talking about the war?

Basil Fawlty:
Me? You started it.

German Guest:
We did not!

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

[Basil in hospital, having suffered a concussion, regain consciousness]

Basil Fawlty:
[to nurse, a little groggily] My God, you're ugly, aren't you?

Sybil Fawlty:
Basil?

Sister:
I'll... I'll get the doctor.

Basil Fawlty:
You need a plastic surgeon, dear, not a doctor.

Basil Fawlty:
Well, I'll just get your hors d'oeuvres.

Basil Fawlty:
[German accent] Hors d'oeuvres... vich must be obeyed at all times vitout qvestion!

Basil Fawlty:
[two guests are speaking to Basil in German] Oh, German. I'm sorry, I THOUGHT there was something wrong with you.

Basil Fawlty:
Listen, don't mention the war. I mentioned it once, but I think I got away with it all right.

[Basil answers the phone which interrupts him hanging his moose head on the wall]

Basil Fawlty:
[Answers the phone call from his wife] Yes. Fawlty Towers, hello?

[pause]

Basil Fawlty:
I was just doing it, you stupid woman. I just put it down, to come here and be reminded by you to do what I'm already doin'. I mean, what is the point in reminding me to do what I'm already doing? I mean, what is the bloody point? I'm doing it, aren't I?

[pause]

Basil Fawlty:
Yes, yes, I picked it up... Yes... No, no, I haven't had a chance yet... I've been at it solidly ever since I got back. Yes, I will... Yes... No, I haven't yet, but I will... Yes, yes, yes, I know it is... Yes, I'll try and get it cleared up... Anything else? I mean, would you like the hotel moved a bit to the left?

[after explaining to everyone about the fire drill moments away]

Basil Fawlty:
Splendid. Well, now that's settled, we'll have the fire drill, which will commence in exactly 30 seconds from now. Thank you so much.

[Everyone stands still]

Basil Fawlty:
What are you doing? I mean, are you just gonna stand there?

Mr. Sharp:
Well, what do you suggest?

Basil Fawlty:
Well, couldn't one or two of you go in the bar and a few in the dining room... I mean, use your imagination?

Mr. Sharp:
Why?

Basil Fawlty:
Well, this is supposed to be a fire drill.

Mr. Sharp:
There's only a few seconds.

Basil Fawlty:
...Right, right. Well, stay where you are because, obviously, if there was a fire, you'd all be standing down here like this in the lobby, wouldn't you? I mean, why do we bother? We should let you all burn.

[Raving on about the fire extinguisher that he fired into his own face]

Basil Fawlty:
Do you know what that fire extinguisher did? It exploded in my face. I mean, what is the point of a fire extinguisher? It sits there for months, and when you actually have a fire - when you actually need the bloody thing - it blows your head off! I mean, what is happening to this country? It's bloody Wilson!

[Sybil asks Basil to get her blue bed-jacket from the drawers. He picks up a pink top]

Basil Fawlty:
This one?

Sybil Fawlty:
That's not blue.

Basil Fawlty:
Well, it's got blue things on it.

Sybil Fawlty:
They're flowers, and I didn't ask for the one with the flowers, did I?

Basil Fawlty:
No, you didn't, quite right. No, I only picked that one up to annoy you, actually.

German Guest:
Can we help you?

Basil Fawlty:
Oh, you speak English.

German Guest:
Of course.

Basil Fawlty:
Ah, wonderful! WUNDERBAR! Ahh! Please allow me to introduce myself, I am the owner of Fawlty Towers. And may I welcome your war... your war... you wall... you all... 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... AHH! Er... trespassers will be tied up with piano wire... SORRY, SORRY!

[the phone rings]

Basil Fawlty:
[picking up the phone; his wife is at the other end of the line] Hello, Fawlty Towers.

[pause]

Basil Fawlty:
[annoyed] Oh, what is it now? Can't you leave me in peace?

[Basil's constant mention of World War II has reduced a German girl to tears, so he decides to cheer her up with a Hitler imitation]

Basil Fawlty:
Look, she'll love it! She's German!

[Basil almost holds a finger underneath his nose]

Polly Shearman:
[recognizing what's to come, with horror] NO, Mr. Fawlty!

Basil Fawlty:
What?

Polly Shearman:
Do Jimmy Cagney instead!

Basil Fawlty:
What?

Polly Shearman:
Jimmy Cagney!

Basil Fawlty:
Jimmy Cagney?

Polly Shearman:
You know! "You dirty rat!"

Basil Fawlty:
I can't do Jimmy Cagney!

Polly Shearman:
Oh, please try! "I'm gonna get you..."

Basil Fawlty:
Shut up!

Basil Fawlty:
[to the Germans] Here, watch. Who's this then?

[He holds a finger underneath his nose and shouts in mock German, which makes the German girl cry even more]

Basil Fawlty:
OK, I'll do the funny walk!

[Basil goose-steps into the lobby and back, all the while chanting in mock German]

Manuel:
[practicing his English while cleaning behind and beneath the front desk] How are you, sir? You see, I speak English well. I learn it from a book... Hello... I am English... Helloooo...

[Manuel continues as Major walks into the room]

Manuel:
[unseen] How are you, sir?... I can speak English.

[Major looks at the moose head on the desk, thinking it's talking to him, and turns away astonished]

Manuel:
[popping up for a moment and spotting the major] Ah, hello, Major. How are you today?

[Manuel returns beneath the front desk]

Major Gowen:
[Major turns to look nervously at the moose head, not spotting Manuel] Well, buh, buh, buh, I-I-I'm fine, thank you.

Manuel:
[back to reciting is lessons] Is a beautiful day today.

Major Gowen:
Is it? Oh-oh-oh, yes, yes, I suppose it is.

Manuel:
Yes, I can speak English... I learned it from a book.

Major Gowen:
Did you? Did you really?

Manuel:
Ohh, he hit me on the head.

Major Gowen:
No! You hit HIM on the head. You naughty moose!

German Guest:
How ever did they win?

Sybil Fawlty:
And DO try and find time to get the moose's head up.

Basil Fawlty:
Ohh...

Sybil Fawlty:
It's been sitting there for two weeks, Basil.

Basil Fawlty:
Yes, yes, yes.

Sybil Fawlty:
I don't know why you bought it.

Basil Fawlty:
It will lend the lobby a certain ambiance, Sybil. It has a touch of style about it.

Sybil Fawlty:
It's got a touch of mange about it.

Basil Fawlty:
That is not so.

Sybil Fawlty:
It's got things living in it, Basil. It's nasty.

Basil Fawlty:
It is not nasty. It is superb.

Sybil Fawlty:
I'm not going to argue with you, Basil, just get it up out of the way. I don't want to snag any more cardis on it.

Nurse:
You still here?

Basil Fawlty:
[glancing underneath his chair] Apparently.

Nurse:
The doctor's coming.

Basil Fawlty:
My God, a doctor? I mean, here in the hospital? Whatever can we do?

Nurse:
You can leave!

Basil Fawlty:
Why DO they call you sister? Is it a term of endearment?

Sybil Fawlty:
I am actually about to undergo an operation, Basil.

Basil Fawlty:
Oh, yes. How is the old toenail? Still growing in, hmm? Still burrowing its way down to the bone? Still macheteing its way through the nerve, aye? Nasty old nail!

Basil Fawlty:
Look, uh, go and get me a hammer.

Manuel:
Uh, como?

Basil Fawlty:
Hammer.

Manuel:
Hammer, oh... Oh, hamma sandwich!

Basil Fawlty:
Oh, do I have to go through this every time? Look, a HAMMER.

Manuel:
My hamster?

Basil Fawlty:
No, not your hamster. How could I knock a nail in with your hamster? Well... I could try, no, it doesn't... No, I'll get it. You come here and tidy. You know - tidy?

Manuel:
Oh, tidy. Si.

Basil Fawlty:
[walking away] Yes, I'll get hkhammer and hkhit you on the hkhead with it hkhard.

Basil Fawlty:
Polly, what's that smell?

Polly Shearman:
Flowers. I just got them from the garden.

Basil Fawlty:
Well, what are you stinking the place up with those for? What's happened to the plastic ones?

Polly Shearman:
Being ironed.

[Basil has accidentally set off the burglar alarm during the fire drill, guests start walking out of the building thinking it's the fire alarm, but Basil stops them all in the lobby]

Mrs. Wilson:
Oh, I thought there was a drill.

Basil Fawlty:
Yes, there is, at twelve o'clock, but not yet.

Mrs. Wilson:
But, it IS twelve o'clock.

Basil Fawlty:
Well not quite, thank you.

Basil Fawlty:
[to other guests trying to leave] Excuse me!

Mrs. Sharp:
Yes.

Mrs. Wilson:
Well, I make it twelve o'clock.

Basil Fawlty:
[to guests] I'm afraid that wasn't the...

Mrs. Wilson:
What time do you make it, Major?

Basil Fawlty:
[annoyed] Look...

Major Gowen:
Burglars about, I think.

Basil Fawlty:
Look, it doesn't matter what time he makes it, it hasn't started yet.

Mrs. Sharp:
What?

Basil Fawlty:
It hasn't started yet!

Mrs. Sharp:
But, that was the bell, wasn't it?

Basil Fawlty:
No!

Mrs. Wilson:
He means "the drill" hasn't started yet.

Mr. Sharp:
What drill? We didn't hear a drill.

Basil Fawlty:
[trying to explain] No, no-no-no, look, look - that was the burglar alarm.

Major Gowen:
See!

Mrs. Wilson:
The burglar alarm?

Basil Fawlty:
Yes!

Mrs. Wilson:
Are there burglars?

Major Gowen:
Evidently!

Basil Fawlty:
[increasingly annoyed] No! Look, what's the matter with you all? It's perfectly simple: We have the fire drill when I ring the fire bell. That wasn't the fire bell! Right?

Mr. Sharp:
Mr. Sharp: Well, how are we supposed to know that wasn't the fire bell?

Basil Fawlty:
Because, it doesn't sound like the fire bell.

All guests at once:
It did.

Basil Fawlty:
It didn't!

Basil Fawlty:
[to Polly] Idle hands get in the way of the Devil's work, Polly.

Major Gowen:
I must have been keen on her because I took her to see India.

Basil Fawlty:
India?

Major Gowen:
At The Oval.

Basil Fawlty:
Fire. F-f-fire. Fa fa fa fire! FIRE!

Basil Fawlty:
[nailing the moose head to the wall] There, tell the Tyrant Queen her cardies are safe forever. Mr Moose is up. It's done, done, done!

Polly Shearman:
It's up.

[the moose head falls off and hits Basil on the head in the process]

Polly Shearman:
It's down again.

Mr. Hutchinson:
How do you do?

Polly:
How do you do?

Mr. Hutchinson:
Wait a minute a minute, we've met before, I think.

Polly:
Yes, I served you at breakfast.

Mr. Hutchinson:
Oh, yes, and you spilled the grapefruit juice, didn't you, you naughty girl?

Polly:
And you moved the glass, didn't you?

Mr. Hutchinson:
Now listen, there's a documentary on BBC2 this evening about "Squawking Bird", the leader of the Blackfoot Indians in the late 1860s. Now this starts at 8.45 and goes on for approximately three-quarters of an hour.

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

Mr. Hutchinson:
Indeed I am. Yes, now, is it possible for me to reserve the BBC2 channel for the duration of this televisual feast?

Basil Fawlty:
Why don't you talk properly?

[being moved to another table a second time]

Mr. Walt:
Look, I did ask the waiter!

Basil Fawlty:
Well, he's hopeless, isn't he? Might as well ask the cat.

Basil Fawlty:
I mean, where are the pens? I mean, what... Would you believe it! I mean, there are no pens here. I mean, this is supposed to be a hotel.

[sybil shakes a box]

Basil Fawlty:
Well, what are they doing in there?

Sybil Fawlty:
I put them there.

Basil Fawlty:
Why?

Sybil Fawlty:
Just sign there, Mr. Walt. Because you're always losing them, Basil.

Basil Fawlty:
I am NOT always losing them. People TAKE them.

Sybil Fawlty:
Well, they don't take them from me.

Basil Fawlty:
They wouldn't dare. Well, I'm sorry I didn't guess that you'd suddenly done that after twelve years, dear. I'm afraid my psychic powers must be a little bit below par this morning. There we are.

Sybil Fawlty:
Don't be silly, Basil. It's written there quite clearly on the top of the box.

Basil Fawlty:
Pens? It looks more like "Bens" to me.

Sybil Fawlty:
Well, WHEN Ben comes, you can give it to him.

Basil Fawlty:
Manuel.

Manuel:
Ah, si?

Basil Fawlty:
The bottle.

Manuel:
Uh... yes.

Basil Fawlty:
Where is it?

Manuel:
Qu??

Basil Fawlty:
Donde es...

Manuel:
Oh, I take it. I take it, I take it.

Basil Fawlty:
Come here.

Manuel:
Qu?.

Basil Fawlty:
You're a waste of space.

[Basil thwacks him on the forehead with a spoon]

Basil Fawlty:
It's all right! He's only choking!

[Basil, after finding out about Mr. Hutchinson's real job]

Basil Fawlty:
[softly] Spoons, hey?

Mr. Hutchinson:
What?

Basil Fawlty:
SSPTHOONS!

Mr. Hutchinson:
Yeah, well, I thought it said Boff.

Basil Fawlty:
Of course.

Mr. Hutchinson:
Yes, and I thought that Boff was a locale, you see, a name of a district, you see, 'cause that 'P' looks like a 'B.'

Basil Fawlty:
No, it doesn't.

Mr. Hutchinson:
Yes, it does. The little loop on the bottom of it...

Basil Fawlty:
[snatching the diagram and showing it to Walt] Excuse me - would you say that was a 'P' or a 'B'?

Mr. Walt:
Er...

Basil Fawlty:
There, does it say Boff or does it say Poff?

Mr. Walt:
Well, I...

Basil Fawlty:
There, there! It's a 'P', isn't it?

Mr. Walt:
[unwillingly] I suppose so.

Basil Fawlty:
P. Off.

Mr. Walt:
I beg your pardon?

Basil Fawlty:
P off! not B. off. Whoever heard of a Bost office?

Sybil Fawlty:
Don't shout at me. I've had a difficult morning.

Basil Fawlty:
Oh, dear, what happened? Did you get entangled in the eiderdown again? Hmm? Not enough cream in your eclair? Or did you have to talk to all your friends for so long that you didn't have time to perm your ears?

Basil Fawlty:
I wish you'd help a bit. You're always refurbishing yourself.

Basil Fawlty:
I would find it a little easier to cope with some of the cretins we get in here, my little nest of vipers, if I got a smidgen of cooperation from you.

Sybil Fawlty:
Cooperation? That's a laugh. The day you cooperate you'll be in a wooden box. I've never heard such rudeness.

Basil Fawlty:
Can we get you something else, Mr. Hutchinson? A tea cosy for your pepper pot, perhaps?

Basil Fawlty:
Manuel will show you to your room - if you're lucky.

Mrs. Chase:
[Manuel is checking the window for a draft that is disturbing Mrs. Chase's dog] We have to be very careful, Mr. Fawlty. He's not very strong.

Basil Fawlty:
Indeed, yes. A rapid movement of air could damage him irreparably! If, um, if only one could keep him in air-tight containers.

Dr. Price:
Look, I'm a doctor. I'm a doctor and I want my sausages!

Mrs. Chase:
[to Manuel] You make sudden movements like that, of course he's going to bite. Don't you have dogs in Calcutta?

Dr. Price:
[Mr. Leeman's cadaver has been put in the kitchen] You can't keep a dead body in here where there's food!

Basil Fawlty:
Can't we?

Dr. Price:
I don't understand. He's been dead for about ten hours.

Basil Fawlty:
Yes, it's so final, isn't it?

Sybil Fawlty:
Basil!

Basil Fawlty:
Well, wouldn't you say it was final, dear? I'd say it was pretty bloody final.

Dr. Price:
Do you mean to tell me you didn't realize this man was dead?

Basil Fawlty:
You know, people don't talk that much in the morning... Oh, look, I'm just delivering a tray, right? If the guest isn't singing "Oh What A Beautiful Morning," I don't immediately think, "Oh there's another snuffed it in the night, another name in the Fawlty Towers Book of Remembrance." I mean, this is a hotel, not the Burma Railway.

Sybil Fawlty:
Basil.

Basil Fawlty:
Well, I mean, it does actually say "Hotel" outside. You know, perhaps I should be more specific: "Hotel for people who have a better than fifty percent chance of making it through the night."

[Mr. Leeman asks for breakfast in bed in the morning; Sybil takes a detailed note of what he'd like to have, but Basil, who doesn't like this special request, can't leave it alone]

Basil Fawlty:
Rosewood... mahogany... teak?

Mr. Leeman:
I beg your pardon.

Basil Fawlty:
What would you like your breakfast tray made out of?

Mr. Leeman:
I don't really mind.

Basil Fawlty:
Are you sure? Fine. Well, you just go down and have a really good night's sleep then. I'm hoping to get a couple of hours later on myself. I'll be up in time to serve you your breakfast in bed. If you could remember to sleep with your mouth open, you won't even have to wake up. I'll just drop in small pieces of lightly buttered kipper when you're breathing in the right direction, if THAT doesn't put you out.

Major Gowen:
Why, I say... I say, Fawlty, he doesn't look, uh... he doesn't look quite the ticket.

Basil Fawlty:
Well, Major, um, don't say anything to anybody, but he's dead.

Major Gowen:
Ah! Shot, was he?

Basil Fawlty:
No, no. No, no. Died in his sleep.

Major Gowen:
In his sleep? Ah, well. You're off your guard, you see!

Miss Abitha Tibbs:
Oh, you're very cheerful this morning, Mr. Fawlty.

Basil Fawlty:
Yes, well, one of the guests has just died.

Basil Fawlty:
Good night!

[Mr. Leeman doesn't answer]

Basil Fawlty:
I said, "Good night!"

Mr. Leeman:
Oh, good night!

Basil Fawlty:
Didn't hurt, did it?

Miss Ursula Tibbs:
[Referring to Mr. Leeman] He's dead!

Basil Fawlty:
Yes, it's her husband. She hasn't got over it. Died thirty years ago.

[In trying to quiet Miss Tibbs panicking over a dead guest, Polly knocks her unconscious]

Basil Fawlty:
Oh, spiffing. Absolutely spiffing. Well done. Two dead, twenty-five to go.

Basil Fawlty:
Are you listening to me? Hello, can... Hello, can anybody hear me? Have I ceased to exist? Have I suddenly become invisible? Sybil, Sybil, Sybil, can you see me?

Sybil Fawlty:
No.

Basil Fawlty:
Oh, good. Well, I'll go and lie down then. No, I won't; I'll go and hit some guests.

Basil Fawlty:
He's stone cold!

Polly Sherman:
Yes.

Basil Fawlty:
Oh, joy!

Basil Fawlty:
It's all right. He's from Barcelona.

Sybil Fawlty:
[finding Mr. Leeman's corpse seated in the office chair] Well, what'd you put him THERE for?

Basil Fawlty:
Well, he wouldn't fit in the safe and all the drawers were full.

Manuel:
Mr. Fawlty, I no want to work here anymore.

[Basil takes breakfast into a guest's bedroom, while ranting about the British Leyland car workers who have gone on strike - yet again. Sitting up in bed, with his head slumped on his chest, is a guest who has died during the night]

Basil Fawlty:
Another car strike. Marvellous, isn't it? The taxpayers pay them millions each year so they can go on strike. It's called socialism. If they don't like making cars, why don't they get themselves another bloody job - designing cathedrals or composing violin concertos. That's it! The British Leyland Concerto - in four movements, all of them slow, with a four-hour tea-break in between.

Sybil Fawlty:
Oh, and one word of advice: If you're going to grope a girl, have the gallantry to stay in the room with her while you're doing it. Mmmm?

Sybil Fawlty:
Do you really imagine, even in your wildest dreams, that a girl like this could possibly be interested in an aging, Brilliantined, stick-insect like you?

Basil Fawlty:
Are you dining here tonight, here in this unfashionable dump?

Mr. Johnson:
I wasn't planning to.

Basil Fawlty:
No, not really your scene is it?

Mr. Johnson:
I thought I'd try somewhere in town. Anywhere you recommend?

Basil Fawlty:
Well, what sort of food were you thinking of... fruit or...?

Mr. Johnson:
Anywhere they do French food?

Basil Fawlty:
Yes, France I believe. They seem to like it there, and the swim would certainly sharpen your appetite. You'd better hurry, the tide leaves in six minutes.

Sybil Fawlty:
It's a relatively new profession, psychiatry, isn't it?

Mrs. Abbott:
Well, Freud started about 1880.

Sybil Fawlty:
Yes, but it's only now we're seeing them on the television.

Sybil Fawlty:
Good evening, Mr. Johnson!

Mr. Johnson:
Evening! Any messages?

Polly:
Um, three, I think.

Sybil Fawlty:
Three! Everybody wants you, don't they?

Mr. Johnson:
[chuckles] I wouldn't say that.

Sybil Fawlty:
Ah, well, you're only single once.

Basil Fawlty:
[calling from office] Twice can be arranged.

Basil Fawlty:
[to Sybil] I'm fed up with you, you rancorous, coiffured old sow. Why don't you syringe the donuts out of your ear and get some sense into the dormant organ you keep hidden in that rat's maze of yours?

Basil Fawlty:
[to a telephone operator, conversing while Sybil converses right next to him on another line] I've been trying to get through to the speaking clock... Well, it's engaged... Well, it's been engaged for ten minutes. How is this possible? My wife isn't talking to it.

Sybil Fawlty:
Old people are wonderful when they have so much life, aren't they? Gives us all hope, doesn't it? My mother on the other hand is a little bit of a trial, really. You know, it's alright when they have the lifeforce but Mother - well she's got more of the deathforce really. She's a worrier. 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. 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.

Sybil Fawlty:
I have had it up to here with you.

Basil Fawlty:
How, dear?

Sybil Fawlty:
You never get it right, do you? You're either crawling all over them, licking their boots, or spitting poison at them like some benzedrine puff adder.

Basil Fawlty:
Just trying to enjoy myself.

Basil Fawlty:
[to the Abbotts] It's rather fascinating your both being doctors. Port for you, Doctor. Because, at one stage I was contemplating becoming a surgeon.

Sybil Fawlty:
[interjecting] A tree surgeon. Ha-ha!

Basil Fawlty:
Thank you, Sybil.

Sybil Fawlty:
Had to give it up. Couldn't stand the sight of sap. Ha!

[the doctors ask how often the Fawltys can get away for a holiday, but Basil, paranoid over one of them being a psychiatrist, thinks their inquiry is about his sex life]

Dr. Abbott:
How often can you and your wife manage it? You don't mind my asking?

Basil Fawlty:
[like a deer in headlights] Not at all. Not at all. About average, since you asked.

Mrs. Abbott:
Average?

Basil Fawlty:
Mm-hm.

Dr. Abbott:
What would be average?

Basil Fawlty:
Well, you tell me. Ha-ha.

Mrs. Abbott:
Well, um... couple of times a year?

Basil Fawlty:
What?

Dr. Abbott:
Once a year? Well, we knew it must be difficult. My wife couldn't see how you could manage it at all.

Basil Fawlty:
[affronted] Well, as you've asked, two or three times a week, actually.

Dr. Abbott:
A week?

Basil Fawlty:
Yes. Pretty normal, isn't it? We're quite normal down here in Torquay, you know.

Basil Fawlty:
We have a Spanish porter we're training for the moment. It'd be quicker to train an APE!

Major Gowen:
I... I... I thought you ought to know!

Basil Fawlty:
What?

Major Gowen:
There's... There's a psychiatrist in the hotel.

Basil Fawlty:
Yes, I know.

Major Gowen:
Oh, you know?

Basil Fawlty:
Yes.

Major Gowen:
Oh! Well, apparently he's... he's dressed up as a guest.

Basil Fawlty:
Well, he IS a guest, Major.

Major Gowen:
Oh! Well, your guess is as good as mine.

Basil Fawlty:
What in God's game are you... you doing? What did you hit me for?

Sybil Fawlty:
How dare you!

[She slaps his face again]

Sybil Fawlty:
How DARE you!

Basil Fawlty:
Have you gone mad? What's got into you?

Sybil Fawlty:
You really don't know?

Basil Fawlty:
No, I don't!

Sybil Fawlty:
What were you doing up that ladder? Come on.

Basil Fawlty:
I was trying to see the girl!

Sybil Fawlty:
What?

Basil Fawlty:
Is that so strange?

[She slaps him again]

Dr. Abbott:
[to his wife, discussing Basil Fawlty] There's enough there for an entire convention.

Basil Fawlty:
How's Audrey?

Sybil Fawlty:
She's in a terrible state.

Basil Fawlty:
[absently] Ah, good, good.

Basil Fawlty:
[into phone] Hello, Fawlty Titties.

Basil Fawlty:
Did you ever see that film "How To Murder Your Wife"?

Major Gowen:
"How To Murder Your Wife"?

Basil Fawlty:
Yes, awfully good. I saw it six times.

Basil Fawlty:
[about Sybil's laugh] It reminds me of somebody machine-gunning a seal.

Basil Fawlty:
Please, don't alarm yourself. It's only my wife laughing.

Basil Fawlty:
I'm frightfully sorry, but you know what women are like. They've got one brain between the lot of them. Well, not all of them, but some of them have.

Basil Fawlty:
[thinking it's another woman knocking at his locked bedroom door] Go away. My wife will hear us.

Sybil Fawlty:
[on the other side] This IS your wife.

Basil Fawlty:
[angry at Polly] Oh, well, so long as I amuse the staff; I mean, that's all I'm here for!

Mrs. Peignoir:
[asking for coffee with her breakfast] Cafe au lait.

Basil Fawlty:
Cafe what?

Mrs. Peignoir:
Au lait.

Basil Fawlty:
Ah. [thinking she means "Ole," the Spanish word for "Bravo!"] Ole. Quite.

Mr. Hamilton:
What I'm suggesting is that this place is the... the crummiest, shoddiest, worst-run hotel in the whole of Western Europe.

Major Gowen:
No! No, I won't have that! There's a place in Eastbourne.

Mr. Hamilton:
Would you make me a Waldorf Salad?

Basil Fawlty:
[having never heard of it] I beg your pardon?

Mr. Hamilton:
Get me a Waldorf Salad.

Basil Fawlty:
Well, I think we just ran out of Waldorfs!

Mr. Hamilton:
You're gonna stay here, nice and quite, while these people say whether or not they're satisfied. And you move off that spot, Fawlty, I'm gonna bust your ass!

Basil Fawlty:
Everything's bottoms, isn't it?

Mr. Hamilton:
You're the manager, aren't you? You're responsible. So, what're you gonna do about it, huh?

Basil Fawlty:
[Pausing] I'll have a word with him.

Mr. Hamilton:
Have a WORD with him? Man, you've got to TELL 'im. "Lay it on the line!"

Basil Fawlty:
"Lay it on the line."

Mr. Hamilton:
Tell 'im if he doesn't get on the ball, your gonna bust his ass!

Basil Fawlty:
[confused] Bust his...?

Mr. Hamilton:
[impatient] I'll tell 'im!

Basil Fawlty:
No, no, no! I'll tell 'im! Leave it to me! I've got it. I've got it. I've got it. I've got it. I've got it! Bust his...?

Mr. Hamilton:
ASS!

Basil Fawlty:
Oh, that! Right. And, uh, two green salads.

Basil Fawlty:
[after elaborately explaining why he has no ingredients for a Waldorf Salad] So, it makes you think how lucky you are, doesn't it? I mean, here we all are, with all our limbs functioning and, quite frankly, if you've got your health, what else matters?

Mr. Hamilton:
What a bunch of crap!

Mr. Hamilton:
[Arriving in the hotel] What a drive, huh? Everything on the wrong side of the road, the weather... Whaddaya get for livin' in a climate like this, green stamps? It's terrible!

Basil Fawlty:
[to Mrs. Hamilton, unaware she's the man's wife] Sorry about this.

Mr. Hamilton:
Took five hours from London. Couldn't find the freeway, had to take a little back street called the M5!

Basil Fawlty:
[Irate] Well, I'm sorry if it wasn't wide enough for you. A lot of the English cars have steering wheels.

Mr. Hamilton:
They do, do they? You wouldn't think there was room for them inside.

Basil Fawlty:
[to Mrs. Hamilton, discreetly holding his nose] See what I mean?

Mrs. Hamilton:
What?

Basil Fawlty:
Rubbish.

Mrs. Hamilton:
May I introduce my husband?

Mrs. Hamilton:
How long have you been married, Mrs. Fawlty?

Sybil Fawlty:
Oh, since 1485.

Basil Fawlty:
[quietly] This is typical. Absolutely typical... of the kind of...

Basil Fawlty:
[shouting] ARSE I have to put up with from you people! You ponce in here expecting to be hand... waited on hand and foot, while 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 about for things to complain about, aren't you? Well let me tell you something - this is exactly how Nazi Germany started! A lot of layabouts with nothing better to do than to cause trouble! Well, I've had fifteen years of pandering to the likes of you, and I've had enough! I've had it! Come on, pack your bags and get out!

Mrs. Hamilton:
They're packed.

Mr. Hamilton:
Order ten taxis, will ya? I'll pay for 'em!

Basil Fawlty:
Come on! Come on!

hotel guests:
What? What?

Basil Fawlty:
Out! Everybody out! Go on upstairs, pack your bags! Adios! Out!

Mr. Johnston:
But it's raining!

Basil Fawlty:
Well, you should've thought of that before, shouldn't you? Too late now! Come on, out! Rause! Rause! RAUSE!

[Basil is distracted from giving two lamb dishes to Mr. and Mrs. Johnston]

Mr. Johnston:
Are those ours?

Basil Fawlty:
[annoyed voice] Not yet.

[Basil is again distracted from giving two lamb dishes to the Johnstons]

Mr. Johnston:
EXCUSE ME! There are two lambs here!

Basil Fawlty:
I'll have them removed if they're bothering you.

Basil Fawlty:
Walnuts! That's a laugh! Easier to find a packet of sliced hippopotamus in suitcase sauce than a walnut in this bloody kitchen!

Sybil Fawlty:
Now, we've got apples...

Basil Fawlty:
[hysterical] Oh! Terrific! We'll celebrate! We'll have an apple party! Everyone cores his own apple and stuffs them down somebody's throat!

[Basil has taken the lamb dishes out of the kitchen to greet Mrs. Hamilton at reception]

Mr. Johnston:
[Re: Lamb dishes] Finished with them, have you?

Basil Fawlty:
Absolutely. Bon App?tit

[Basil makes rude farting sound]

Mr. Johnston:
[to Mrs. Hamilton] I recommend the SELF-service here. It's excellent.

Basil Fawlty:
That'll be all, thank you.

Mr. Johnston:
What?

Basil Fawlty:
Your lambs will be getting cold, Mr. Johnston.

Mr. Johnston:
Colder!

Basil Fawlty:
If you'd like them warmed up...

Mr. Johnston:
Forget it!

Basil Fawlty:
[after Mr. Johnston returns to the dining room]... you can get your wife to sit on 'em!

Basil Fawlty:
[to Mrs. Hamilton] I'm so sorry for the RUBBISH we get in here.

Mrs. Johnston:
I think those prawns might be a bit off.

Basil Fawlty:
Oh, I don't think so.

Mrs. Johnston:
Well, they do taste rather funny.

Basil Fawlty:
Well, no one else has complained.

Mrs. Johnston:
Well, I really do think they're off.

Basil Fawlty:
But you've eaten half of them.

Mrs. Johnston:
Well, I didn't notice at the start.

Basil Fawlty:
You didn't notice at the start.

Mrs. Johnston:
No, really, it was the sauce. I wasn't sure.

Basil Fawlty:
So you ate half to MAKE sure?

Mr. Johnston:
My wife thinks they're off!

Basil Fawlty:
Well, what am I... Did you want another first course?

Mrs. Johnston:
No, thank you.

Mr. Johnston:
Well, you're sure.

Mrs. Johnston:
No, really. I'll just have the main.

Mr. Johnston:
Well, then, we'll cancel it.

Basil Fawlty:
Cancel it? Oh, deduct it form the bill, is that what you mean?

Mr. Johnston:
I said it was inedible.

Basil Fawlty:
Well, only half of it's inedible, apparently.

Mr. Johnston:
Well, deduct half now and if my wife brings the other half up during the night we'll claim the balance in the morning.

Basil Fawlty:
Oh, yes, I can cope, dear. Coping's easy. Not pur?eing your loved ones, that's the difficult part.

Basil Fawlty:
This Finnish floozy's your karate teacher, is she?

Terry:
Well, it's a sort of karate, isn't it?

Basil Fawlty:
Ah, you'd like freshly SQUEEZED orange juice.

Mr. Hamilton:
As opposed to freshly unscrewed orange juice, yes.

Basil Fawlty:
My wife likes Harold Robbins. After a hard day's slaving under the hairdryer, she needs to unwind with a few aimless thrills.

Mr. Hamilton:
You know somethin', fella? If this was back in the States, I wouldn't board my dog here!

Basil Fawlty:
Fussy, is he? Poodle?

Basil Fawlty:
Well, goodbye, dear. It's been an interesting fifteen years, but all good things must come to an end. I hope you enjoy your new work here: helping to run a hotel. Goodbye, Major. Goodbye, ladies. Give my regards to Polly and Manuel. Bye, dear.

Sybil Fawlty:
You've forgotten your keys, Basil.

Basil Fawlty:
Sorry. Force of habit, I guess. Well, goodbye to the rest of you. I hope you enjoy your stay here. Don't forget: any complaints, just call my wife. Any hour of the day or night, just shout. Bye!