Fawlty Towers, Series 2

Mrs. Richards:
What is going on here? I ask him for my room, and he tells me the manager's a "Mr Watt," 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.

Mrs. Richards:
The manager's from Barcelona?

Manuel:
No, no. He's from, er, Swanage.

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:
(confused) 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:
[goes into the bathroom] There is your bath.

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

Basil:
[quietly] I wish you were a mouse, I'd show you...

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

Basil:
[quietly to Manuel] Deaf, mad and blind. [Goes to the window] Yes, this is the view as I remember it, yes, yes, this is it.

Mrs. Richards:
When I pay for a room with 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 expected to see out of a Torquay hotel bedroom window? Sydney Opera House, perhaps? The Hanging Gardens of Babylon? Herds of wildebeest 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, then, may I suggest you move to a hotel nearer the sea? [mutters] Or preferably in it.

Mrs Richards:
Now listen to me. I am not satisfied. However, I have decided to stay. But 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. [mutters] You don't.

Mrs Richards:
What?

Basil:
I'll see if I can fix it [mutters] you scabby old bat. (walks over to the radio and turns it up loud, then turns it off)

Basil:
Madam, may I ask do you have a hearing aid?

Mrs Richards:
What?

Basil:
[shouting] A hearing aid!

Mrs Richards:
Yes I do have a hearing aid!

Basil:
Would you like me to get it mended?

Mrs Richards:
Mended? It's working perfectly fine.

Basil:
No it isn't!

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

Basil:
Why not?

Mrs Richards:
The battery runs out. Now what sort of reduction are you prepared to give me on this room?

Basil:
[whispering] 60% if you turn it on.

Mrs Richards:
What?!

Basil:
My wife handles all such matters, she'll be delighted to discuss it with you.

Mrs Richards:
I shall speak to her after lunch.

Basil:
(muttering) you heard that all right didn't you...

Miss Tibbs and Gatsby:
Good afternoon.

Mrs Richards:
First they give me a room without a bath, then there's no lavatory paper. [goes to the reception desk and starts banging the bell]

Miss Tibbs and Gatsby:
Oohh

Miss Gatsby:
Would you like some of ours?

Miss Tibbs:
We keep an extra supply

Miss Gatsby:
Yes, would you like some of ours?

Mrs Richards:
Hello! [Polly comes out of the office] 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:
Well we don't put it in the rooms

Mrs Richards:
What?

Polly:
We keep it in the lounge

Mrs Richards:
[shocked] In the Lounge?!

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

Mrs Richards:
[still shocked] Address on it?!

Polly:
How many sheets? [Mrs Richards looks appalled] Well how many are you going to use?

Mrs Richards:
[banging the desk bell] Manager!

Polly:
Just enough for one? Tell me!

Mrs Richards:
Manager! Manager!

Mrs Richards:
[To Polly, after looking everywhere for her glasses] Are you blind? They were on my head! Didn't you see them?

Polly:
Yes!

Mrs Richards:
Didn't God give you eyes?

Polly:
Yes, but I don't use them, because it wears the batteries out!

Mrs Richards:
[Leaving the room] I can get down stairs 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:
[to Mrs Richards] Are you sure you can manage?

Basil:
If you give us any more trouble I shall visit you in the small hours and put a bat up your nightdress!

Basil:
He gets paid for sticking his nose-

Sybil:
Oh, Basil-

Basil:
No, I'm going to have my say! Into people's private... um... details. Well, just speaking for myself, I don't want a total stranger nosing about in my private parts- details!

Sybil:
You're only single once.

Basil:
Twice can be arranged!

Psychiatrist:
There's enough material there for an entire conference.

Terry:
Mr. Fawlty, take it easy.

Basil:
Now listen here. I don't pay you to tell me to take it easy. I pay you to take it easy, I mean I pay you to tell you to take it easy.

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

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

Basil:
This is typical. Absolutely typical... of the kind of... ARSE I have to put up with from you people! You ponce in here, expecting to be handwaited 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 around 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!

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

Basil:
[puzzled] A wal....

Mr. Hamilton:
Waldorf Salad.

Basil:
I think we're just out of Waldorfs.

Basil:
[Sarcastically] Rosewood, Mahogany, Teak?

Mr. Leeman:
I beg your pardon?

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

Mr. Leeman:
I don't really mind

Basil:
Are you sure? Fine! Well, you go and and have a really good night's sleep then, I'm hoping to get a couple hours later on myself but I'll be up in good time to serve you your breakfast in bed. IF YOU CAN 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!

Dr Price:
You mean to tell me you didn't realise this man was dead?

Basil:
Well, people don't talk that much in the morning. 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!

Basil:
Don't tell anyone, but he's dead.

Major Gowen:
Oh. Shot, was he?

Basil:
No, No. Died in his sleep.

Major Gowen:
In his sleep. Well, you're off your guard, you see.

Basil:
I mean, it does say 'hotel' outside. Maybe I should be more precise, 'Hotel for people who have more than 50% chance of making it through the night'!

[After Sybil disappears, Basil is shocked when guests arrive.]

Basil:
They're here! They're here! What do I say?... What am I going to say?

Polly:
Oh... say she's... er... um...

Basil:
She's "er, um" Oh, brilliant! Problem solved. She's "er, um."

Manuel:
It is surprise party.

Basil:
Yes?

Manuel:
She no here.

Basil:
Right?

Manuel:
That is surprise!

Virginia:
There is something very peculiar about all this. I won't stand here while an old friend like Sybil-

Basil:
Look, it's perfectly Sybil. Simple's not well. She lost her throat and her voice hurt. The doctor came and said it was a bit serious. Not a lot; a bit. He went away, she started to puff up, he's coming back later this afternoon, and it's best for her to be on her own. Now what is so peculiar about that?

Roger:
Her driving round in the town.

Terry:
Look: all kitchens are filthy, Mr. Fawlty. In fact, the better the kitchen, the filthier it is. Have you ever read George Orwell's experiences at Maxim's in Paris?

Basil:
No. Do you have a copy? I'll read it out in court!

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

Basil:
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.

Mr. Carnegie:
[Public Health Inspector]... Unless appropriate steps are taken instantly, I shall have no alternative than to prosecute or recommend closure to the appropriate committee of the council. Specifically: Lack of proper cleaning routines, Dirty and greasy filters, Greasy deep fat fryer, Dirty cracked and stained preparation surfaces, Dirty cracked and missing wall and floor tiles, Dirty marked and stained utensils, Dirty greasy and stained interior surfaces ........ storage of cooked and raw meat in same trays, Storage of raw meat above confectioneries with consequent dripping of meat juices on to cream products, Refrigerator seals loose and cracked, Icebox undefrosted, and refrigerator over stocked .... Evidence of smoking in food preparation area, Dirty and grubby food handling overalls, Lack of wash hand basin in which you gave us a verbal assurance you'd have it installed at our last visit six months ago, and two dead pigeons in the water tank.

Basil:
Otherwise, ok?

Sybil:
[Figuring what to do with Manuel's rat] Perhaps we could find a home for him.

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

[The rat's head pokes out of the biscuit tray]

Basil:
[To Mr. Carnegie] W-W-Would you care for a rat, or...?

[Awkward pause]

Basil:
Just the biscuits then, please, Polly.

Polly:
[trying to speak to her boss in code, telling him that the corpse’s arm is sticking out of the wardrobe’s door] She doesn’t mean any arm!!

[Manuel, under the popular misconception that ratatouille is made from real rats, attacks Terry for (supposedly) cooking his "Siberian hamster"]

Manuel:
...You put Basil in the ratatouille! Why? You murderer!! Why you put Basil in the ratatouille!!?

Terry:
I haven't even made any bleeding ratatouille!