The Complete Fawlty Towers

by John Cleese

  Sybil (appearing from nowhere): What is going on, Basil?

  Basil: Hello, dear!

  Sybil: Well?

  Basil (jiggling the chair very slightly): Is that better, Mr. Hutchison?

  Hutchison: What?

  Basil: Is that better?

  Hutchison: Thank you, yes . . .

  Basil: Oh good. Well that’s sorted out then. Good.

  Sybil: Is there something wrong?

  Hutchison: Yes, there is, yes . . . I have been given an erroneous dish.

  Sybil: Thank you, Basil, I’ll deal with this . . . thank you, Polly . . . (Basil walks innocently away) Now, Mr. Hutchison.

  Hutchison: Now, you see, I did order the omelette in the first place, but then I changed my mind.

  Sybil: I see. Well I’ll just go in the kitchen and find out what happened.

  Hutchison: Thank you.

  She heads for the kitchen. Meanwhile Basil is looking at the sideboard; the bottle has gone. He looks round and sees Manuel.

  Basil: Manuel!

  Manuel (running up): Si?

  Basil (indicating sideboard): The bottle.

  Manuel: Er . . . Yes!

  Basil: Where is it?

  Manuel: Qué?

  Basil: . . . donde es . . . ?

  Manuel: Oh, I take it. (indicates kitchen) I take it. I take it.

  Basil (beckoning gently): Come here. (takes a spoon from the bowl Manuel is carrying) You’re a waste of space. (raps him on the head with the spoon and hustles him into kitchen)

  Sybil (coming in from kitchen with some pâté): There we are, Mr. Hutchison.

  Hutchison: No, no, no! Just a moment, please!

  Sybil: Yes?

  Hutchison: I did not order that.

  Sybil: You didn’t?

  Hutchison: I did not.

  Sybil: I’m sorry, there’s an order for pâté for this table.

  Hutchison: Oh dear me, things do seem to be going wrong today, don’t they.

  Basil (coming back with another bottle): Hallo, Sybil, taking care of things, are you?

  Sybil: Yes, thank you Basil.

  Basil: Good . . . (to Hutchison) Everything all right, then?

  Hutchison: Well it appears that . . .

  Sybil: We’re just sorting it out, thank you Basil.

  Basil: That’s funny . . . you didn’t order ‘pâté maison’, did you, Mr. Hutchison?

  Hutchison: No I did not, I ordered . . .

  Basil: Well, I’ll leave you to deal with it, dear.

  He goes to Mr. Walt’s table and starts uncorking the bottle. He has done so when he notices another bottle open on the table.

  Basil: How did you do that?

  Walt: What?

  Basil (indicating Walt’s bottle): Where did you get it?

  Walt: Where did I get it?

  Basil: That’s right! I mean, how did you get it?

  Walt: The waiter opened it for me.

  Basil: The waiter opened it for you!!??

  Walt: . . . Yes!

  Manuel, unaware of recent developments, arrives with Walt’s pâté.

  Basil: I’ve told you about him, haven’t I!

  Manuel starts to leave. Basil jabs him in the rear with the corkscrew. He leaves more rapidly. Meanwhile Polly is delivering a lamb casserole to Mr. Hutchison.

  Hutchison: Oh, no, no!! For goodness sake . . .

  Basil (running up): What is it, what is it?!!

  Hutchison: I did not order a lamb casserole!

  Basil: No, he didn’t, he did not order one, Polly, so why . . . has . . . he . . . got . . . one?

  Polly: Because Mrs. Fawlty told me to give him one.

  Basil: I know how she feels.

  Polly: I’ve got an order for one for this table.

  Basil: Who took the order?

  Polly (valiantly): . . . I don’t know.

  Basil: . . . Manuel!!

  Hutchison: I mean, look, how can it be so difficult to get a cheese salad?

  Basil: . . . You want to run the place?

  Hutchison: No no, I . . .

  Basil: Right, well shut up then.

  Hutchison: I beg your pardon?!

  Polly: I’ll get you a cheese salad, Mr. Hutchison.

  Basil (to Polly): And don’t listen to anyone . . . just get him a cheese salad.

  Manuel appears.

  Manuel: Si? (Basil hits him; he retires)

  Hutchison: Excuse me!! I’ve changed my mind . . . (rising) I do not want the cheese salad. I wish to cancel it. I am not used to being spoken to like that, Mr. Fawlty, and I’ve no wish to continue my luncheon.

  Basil (realising he went a bridge too far): I do apologize if what I said just now seemed a trifle . . . brusque.

  Hutchison: Brusque? It was rude, Mr. Fawlty. I said . . . rude!

  Basil: Well, I’m deeply sorry if it came over like that. I mean, nothing could have been further from my mind . . .

  Hutchison: You told me to shut up!

  Polly (brilliantly): No, no. He told me to shut up.

  Hutchison (to Polly): You what? He said it to me.

  Basil: Ah, no, I was looking at you but I was talking to Polly. (still looking at Hutchison) Wasn’t I, Polly?

  Polly (straight to Hutchison): Oh, yes.

  Basil (still to Hutchison): Ah! Did you notice then . . . that I was looking at you but talking to her?

  Hutchison: What?

  Polly (looking at Basil): You see, he was looking at you but talking to me. (to Basil) Wasn’t he?

  Basil (to Polly): Wasn’t I?

  Hutchison (not sure where to look): What?

  Polly (to Hutchison): So you weren’t being rude, were you Mr. Fawlty?

  Basil (to Polly): Absolutely not. You see?

  Hutchison (to Basil): . . . Me?

  Basil (to Hutchison): Yes.

  Hutchison (to Basil): Well, if you say shut up to somebody, that’s the one you want to shut up, isn’t it?

  Polly (to Basil): Not necessarily.

  Basil (to Hutchison): . . . I’m sorry, were you talking to me?

  Hutchison (to Basil): Yes.

  Polly (to Basil): I beg your pardon.

  A pause. Hutchison has now been successfully confused.

  Basil (to Hutchison): There! You see how easily these misunderstandings occur.

  Hutchison: Er . . . yes, I do . . .

  Basil: So . . . one cheese salad then please, Polly.

  Polly (to Basil): Certainly, Mr. Hutchison. (leaves)

  Basil: And if there’s anything else please don’t hesitate to ask.

  Hutchison (after looking round for a moment to see if he is being addressed): Yes, thank you.

  Basil moves away. Manuel creeps up on Walt and removes his empty plate.

  Walt (jumping): Aaah!

  Basil (to Manuel): What are you doing? (to Walt) I’m so sorry. He’s from Barcelona. I trust your pâté was satisfactory?

  Walt: Yes, yes, thank you.

  Basil: Oh, good, good. The chef buys it himself, you know.

  Walt: Buys it?

  Basil: Oh, insists on it. I imagine the Cortonne complemented it delightfully.

  Walt: Yes. It’s very good.

  Basil: Ah! Excellent.

  Walt: More like a ’66 really.

  Basil: Is it?

  Walt: Well, lots of body.

  Basil (picking up the bottle and expertly gauging its weight): Quite right. It’s always a pleasure to find someone who appreciates the boudoir of the grape. I’m afraid most of the people we get in here don’t know a Bordeaux from a claret.

  Walt: . . . A Bordeaux is a claret.

  Basil: Oh, a Bordeaux is a claret. But they wouldn’t know that. You obviously drink a lot . . . wine, I mean. Well, not a lot, a fair amount, the right amount for a connoisseur, I mean, that doesn’t mean you’re . . . does it, I mean some people drink it by the crate but that’s not being a connoisseur, that’s just plain sloshed. Oh, a Bordeaux’s one of the clarets all right.

  Walt: One
?

  Manuel creeps in with Walt’s casserole and skulks off.

  Basil (swiftly): You’re down here on business, are you?

  Walt (dismissively): Yes.

  Basil: You’re not in the wine trade by any chance?

  Walt: No we’re not.

  Basil: We’re?

  Walt (anxious to start on his casserole): . . . I am down here on business with a couple of colleagues and we are not in the wine trade.

  Basil: Ah, it’s just that you’re obviously so expert.

  Walt: No . . . I am not expert.

  Basil: Oh, but you are.

  Walt: I’m not.

  Basil: Oh yes you are.

  Walt: I am not an expert!

  Basil (suddenly seizing Walt’s shoulder): Three of you?

  Walt (astonished): What?

  Basil: Three . . . three of you?

  Walt: Yes . . . there are three of us . . . well, the other two aren’t here. They’re staying at another hotel.

  Basil (recovering his wits): Quite! So . . . it’s all all right, is it?

  Walt: . . . What?

  Basil: Well, I mean things in general . . . I mean, the wine’s really good?

  Walt: Yes.

  Basil: And the pâté was all right?

  Walt: Yes, I said so.

  Basil: And the casserole?

  Walt: I haven’t tasted it yet.

  Basil (sniffing the casserole admiringly): Mmmmm!

  Walt: I’ve not been given the chance.

  There is an explosion of complaints from Hutchison.

  Basil (to Walt): Well, I’ll leave you to your meal if I may . . . bon appétit. (he hurtles towards Hutchison)

  Hutchison (fortissimo): Oh, no, come on now, this is quite absurd. I’m sorry, but I do not want an omelette!!

  Manuel: (offering Hutchison an omelette) Is nice!

  Hutchison: I don’t want the bloody thing. I’ve sent it back once!

  Basil (whizzing up): Here, give it to me.

  Hutchison: I fail to see how this sort of thing can happen!

  Basil (tearing up the omelette): There. I’ve torn it up. You’ll never see it again.

  He deposits the remains on the Major’s table. The Major gratefully tucks in.

  Hutchison (still fortissimo): I told you I wanted a cheese salad.

  Polly arrives with it.

  Basil: Thank you, Polly, one cheese salad, there we are, sir. I’m so glad everything is to your satisfaction.

  Hutchison: No it is not! It is absolutely ridiculous! I mean, you are supposed to be running a hotel!

  Basil (admiring the salad): My, that does look good.

  Hutchison: I’ve had the omelette, a prawn cocktail with a bloody silly name . . .

  Basil: Look at that cheddar. Delicious!

  Hutchison: . . . then I had a plate of stew and then the bloody omelette again!

  Basil: Can we keep it down a little?

  Hutchison: I mean, all I wanted was a cheese salad. It wasn’t as though I’d ordered an elephant’s ear on a bun, was it!

  Basil (smiling vainly at Walt): Thank you, thank you so much.

  Hutchison: I mean the whole thing is absolutely ridiculous.

  Basil (pushing him back in his chair): Well, I’m glad we’ve sorted it all out now.

  Hutchison: . . . I mean for a man who’s supposed to be running a hotel, your behaviour is totally . . .

  Basil laughs genially at the other guests and places a hand across Hutchison’s mouth.

  Basil: Well, I’m glad everything’s to your satisfaction now . . .

  Hutchison (muffled): Let me go, let me go . . .

  Basil: Is there anything else at all I can get you, sir?

  Hutchison (struggling): Let me go, I can’t breathe!

  Basil (merrily): Ha ha ha ha ha! (hissing) Shut up, then.

  Hutchison: I can’t breathe!

  Basil: Shut up and I’ll let go.

  Hutchison: You told me to shut up again!

  Basil: Look at that lovely cheese! (Hutchison starts threshing about in search of oxygen; Basil tightens his grip and assures the others) It’s all right, he’s only choking. (Hutchison leaps convulsively; Basil thumps him on the back) Don’t worry . . . bit of cheese went the wrong way. (more convulsions and thumping; Basil beams and slips in a quick rabbit-punch; Hutchison slumps with his face in his salad) Ah, never mind, he’s fainted, poor chap. Manuel! (to Walt) Poor chap! Bit of cheese!

  The Major: Yes, please.

  Basil and Manuel pick up Hutchison and carry him into the lobby.

  Sybil: What’s happened?

  Basil: He fainted, dear.

  Sybil: Fainted?

  Basil: . . . Got a bit of cheese stuck.

  They carry Hutchison into the bar, followed by Sybil.

  Sybil: . . . Basil, you do not faint from getting a bit of cheese stuck.

  Basil: Well, I was giving him a bit of a pat on the back and he sort of . . . moved, just as I was . . .

  Sybil: What have you done, Basil?

  Basil: Nothing, he just moved as I . . .

  Sybil: Oh my God! Call the doctor.

  Basil: Look, I can handle this.

  Sybil: Call the doctor!

  Basil: I can handle it!!

  Sybil: Call the doctor!!

  Basil: Look, I can handle it . . . right, right, I’ll call the doctor, obviously I can’t handle it . . . (he goes into the lobby, muttering) I’m just a great stupid sabre-toothed tart so we’ll let my husband do it. (picks up the phone but sees Walt emerging from the dining room) Ah! . . . I’m so sorry to have left you, I trust you enjoyed your meal?

  Walt (peremptorily): Yes, yes, thank you. I was wondering . . .

  Basil: The casserole was really good, was it?

  Walt: . . . Well, it was adequate.

  Basil: Oh, quite, yes, exactly, I’m afraid the chef at lunch today is not our regular, but . . . incidentally, I’m sorry about that poor chap choking himself like that.

  Walt: I was wondering if you had a telephone I might use?

  Basil: Oh, please, do use this one. (hands him the receiver) I don’t know how he managed to do it. Ah, here he is. Good. (Hutchison emerges unsteadily from the bar) Ah, Mr. Hutchison! There you are . . . What a frightful shame about that piece of cheese getting stuck in the old windpipe like that. (indicating the bar) Would you like to go in there and discuss it?

  Hutchison: No, I’d prefer to come in here and discuss it.

  Basil (retreating): . . . Oh, fine, I’m afraid it’s a little bit of a mess . . .

  Hutchison comes behind the desk and hits him. Basil disappears below the desk. After a pause he stands up and smiles warmly at Hutchison.

  Basil: Well, that lie-down seems to have done you some good.

  Hutchison hits him again and Basil reels towards Walt’s end of the desk. Hutchison hits him twice more.

  Basil (to Walt): Sorry about this.

  Hutchison hits him a couple more times. He flops out of sight.

  Hutchison: I am not a violent man, Mr. Fawlty.

  Basil’s voice: Yes you are.

  Hutchison: No I’m not! But when I am insulted and then attacked, I would prefer to rely on my own mettle than call the police.

  Basil’s voice: Do you? Do you really?

  Hutchison: Yes, I do, now stand up like a man, come on.

  Basil’s voice: . . . Bit of trouble with the old leg, actually.

  Hutchison: Come on!

  He picks Basil up. Basil has found a stapler. He shows it to Walt.

  Basil: Look what I’ve found!

  Hutchison: I hope I’ve made my point.

  Basil: Absolutely! (to Walt) I’ve been looking for that.

  Hutchison: I would just like to say that this hotel is extremely inefficient and badly run, and that you are a very rude and discourteous man, Mr. Fawlty.

  Basil (happily): Ah ha ha ha ha.

  Hutchison: . . . Did I say something funny, Mr. Fawlty?

  Basil: . . . Well, s
ort of pithy, I suppose.

  Hutchison: Oh really . . . well, here’s the punch line. (he elbows Basil in the stomach; Basil doubles up out of sight) Now I am going to fetch my belongings, and I do not expect to receive a bill. (he goes off upstairs)

  Sybil (comes in, leans aver the desk and looks down at Basil): You’ve handled that, then, have you, Basil?

  Basil’s voice: Yes dear, thank you, leave it to me.

  She goes off. Walt finishes his call.

  Basil (hauling himself into view): Incidentally, I don’t know if you realize, but he’s a regular customer of ours . . . he loves it here, it’s his second home. It’s just that we always have to have this little . . . don’t know why, but he seems to like it.

  Walt: Really?

  Basil: Yes, the only danger is, though, that somebody’s going to think he really isn’t satisfied about something or that the fighting’s real, and tell people. You won’t mention it, will you . . . we’d be delighted to offer you dinner here tonight as our guest, to show our gratitude.

  Walt: . . . What?

  Basil: Dinner tonight . . . would you . . . ?

  Walt (puzzled): No, I can’t tonight, thank you.

  Basil: Tomorrow night?

  Walt: . . . I shall be leaving tomorrow. Sorry.

  Basil: . . . All right. Fifty pounds, then!

  Walt: I beg your pardon?

  Basil: Fifty pounds not to mention it.

  Walt: Fifty pounds?!!

  Basil: . . . Sixty, then! . . . Not to write about it . . . you know, articles, books, letters . . . (taking out his wallet)

  Walt: I’m afraid I really don’t . . .

  Basil (clutching him): Please! Oh please! It’s taken us twelve years to build this place up. If you put this in the book we’re finished.

  Walt: What book?

  Basil: The hotel guide. Oh . . . I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it. (emits a strangled high-pitched whine) Oh, what have I done?

  Walt: Look, I think you’ve got me confused with somebody else. I’m nothing to do with any hotel guide. I’m down here for the Exhibition—we sell outboard motors . . . all right?

  Basil (now sobbing uncontrollably): Outboard motors? . . . You’re not an inspector?

  Walt: No.

  Basil: Not on the side or anything?

  Walt: No.

  Basil (grabbing him): Swear to God.

  Walt: I tell you, I’ve nothing to do with it!

  Basil: Thank you, thank you, oh, thank you so much. I don’t know how I can ever . . . (he suddenly freezes; a pause) Thanks.