by John Cleese
Mr. White: Yes.
Polly: It’s lovely, isn’t it.
Mrs. White: Yes.
Polly: Did you enjoy your breakfast?
Mr. White: Oh, yes, thank you, yes, yes. Excuse me . . . do you think we could just go inside and get our . . .
Polly: Not really.
Mr. White: Pardon?
Polly: Well, it’s being cleaned at the moment. Mr. Fawlty’s doing it . . .
Mrs. White: But we want to get our things.
Mr. White: Yes, we’re going out, you see.
Polly: Oh, well, it’ll only take a couple of minutes.
Mrs. White: I’m sorry, we’re a little late. (she moves to take the door handle)
Polly: Excuse me . . . Mr. Fawlty! (she knocks) Mr. Fawlty!!!
Basil’s voice: All clear?
Polly: Er . . . Mr. Fawlty . . .
Basil’s voice: Anybody about?
Polly: Mr. and Mrs. White want to come into their room.
Basil’s voice: Ooooh, no! Wait a minute. (a pause, then the door opens a crack) Hallo.
Mr. White: Can we come in?
Basil: Er . . .
Polly: I was just explaining you were finishing the room.
Basil: Yes, won’t be five minutes.
Mr. White: Well, could you finish it later?
From inside, Manuel groans and there is a heavy thump.
Basil (to Manuel): Pick up that ashtray, will you Manuel, please. (to the Whites) Could we do it later?
Mrs. White: When we’ve got our things.
Polly: Well, it’ll only be a couple of minutes.
Mr. White: Look, Fawlty, we want our things.
Basil: Oh, right, yes, thank you so much. (he disappears, closes the door and bolts it)
Mr. White: He’s locked it!
Polly: Well, that’s just a precaution.
Mr. White (banging on the door): Have you locked this?
Basil’s voice: Only slightly.
Mr. White (banging): Will you let us in.
Basil’s voice: In a minute.
In the bedroom, Basil and Manuel are putting Miss Tibbs into the wardrobe.
Basil: Get the coats . . . get the coats . . .
Outside the room the Whites are waiting.
Mrs. White: What’s going on?
Polly: Well, he’s a bit of a perfectionist.
In the bedroom, Basil unbolts the door.
Basil: Readyyyyy!
The Whites come in. Manuel is holding two coats. Basil is polishing the wardrobe with his handkerchief.
Mr. White: What’s been going on in here?
Basil: Well, we tried rearranging the furniture but it didn’t really work. Manuel has your coats.
Manuel gives them their coats. They look around suspiciously. They are about to leave when a moan is heard. They stop. Manuel starts singing loudly. Polly joins in. The Whites stare at Manuel.
Basil: It’s all right. He’s from Barcelona.
The moaning is heard again. Polly simulates pain.
Polly: Ooooh!
Mrs. White: What’s that noise?
Polly: Oh, just my back.
Mrs. White: No, that moaning.
A loud moan from the wardrobe. Basil goes to the window and looks out.
Basil: Oh yes. That’s odd.
Mr. White: No, no, it’s coming from the cupboard.
Basil listens. Another moan.
Basil: Well, we’ll get some oil. (more noise) Have a nice day.
Mrs. White: There’s someone in there.
Basil: What?
Mr. White: Yes, listen.
Basil: No, no. no. (shrieking and hammering starts) Good Lord, so there is!
Mrs. White: Let them out!!
Basil: Good idea. Right . . . well . . . um . . .
Mr. White: Well, go on.
Basil: Yes, we’re going to. It’s the next thing on the list. If you do get a chance to see the museum it’s well . . .
Mr. White: Open it. Now. Now!
Basil: All right, yes, right. Oh, it’s locked. Damn.
Mr. White: Where’s the key?
Basil: Yes, where is the key? Do you have any idea, Polly, Manuel . . . ?
Polly: I expect we’ve left it downstairs somewhere.
Manuel: Qué?
Basil: Where’s the key?
Manuel: . . . In your pocket.
Basil: No it isn’t.
Manuel: Yes it is.
Basil: No, no, it’s not.
Manuel: Si. Look, look! (despite Basil’s attempts to stop him, he reaches in Basil’s pocket and produces the key) Look!
Basil: Oh, well done, Manuel. Thank you very much. Thank you. Right, well, we’ve got it now.
Mr. White: Give it to me. I’ll do it.
Basil: All right, I will, I will! (he opens the wardrobe door and Miss Tibbs emerges gibbering and crying; Polly comforts her) Now, I’ve warned you about this before! You can hide in your own cupboard but not in other people’s! (behind him the wardrobe door opens slightly and an arm flops out; Basil turns to the Whites) I’m sorry about this, you can’t really blame her. She doesn’t have much in her life, she has to make her own entertainment.
Polly (seeing the arm): She has trouble with her arm. That’s why she goes in the cupboard.
Basil: Exactly.
Mrs. White: Are you feeling better?
Polly: Her arm gets stuck there!
Basil: It’s always happening to her.
Miss Tibbs (crying): He’s dead!
Basil: Yes, it’s her husband. She hasn’t got over it. Died thirty years ago . . .
Polly (shouting): She doesn’t mean any arm!!
Basil glances back and sees the arm.
Miss Tibbs: In the cupboard!!
Basil: No more today, you’ve had enough. (suddenly points to the other side of the room by the door) Oh my God, look at that!
The Whites look. Basil runs to the door and starts stamping on something. Polly nips across, flings the arm in the wardrobe and shuts the door. She returns to Miss Tibbs. Manuel stares at Basil, thinks he’s got the point of what Basil’s doing and starts Spanish dancing. Basil picks up an imaginary dead spider and throws it away. Manuel is still dancing.
Basil: Thank you, Manuel. That’s enough. (to the Whites) Anything else we can do for you?
Miss Tibbs’ bedroom. Miss Tibbs is on her bed. Sybil is making some tea.
Miss Tibbs: Oh, it was so horrible, Mrs. Fawlty, you’ve no idea.
Sybil: Oh, I know.
Miss Tibbs: It was pitch black in there . . . and that thing . . . with its hand . . .
Sybil: Oh, I know. (gives Miss Tibbs the tea) Now you have a little rest and try to think of something else.
Miss Tibbs: But anything could have happened.
Sybil: Well, he was dead, dear.
Miss Tibbs: A man is a man, Mrs. Fawlty.
Sybil (slightly thrown): Oh, I know . . .
Miss Tibbs: I shall speak to him about it.
Sybil: Speak to him?
Miss Tibbs: To Mr. Fawlty. We’re his oldest residents . . .
Sybil: Well, have a little rest first.
Miss Tibbs: Frightening me like that. I shall speak to him.
Sybil: Have a word with him in a little while when you’re feeling better. (she leaves)
In the lobby, the Whites are standing by the reception desk. Mr. White is on the phone.
Mr. White: I see; thank you. (rings off; to Mrs. White) It’s all right, dear—they’ve got rooms at the Seaview.
Mrs. White: Tonight?
Mr. White: Yes.
Mrs. White: Well, let’s have a look at it.
Mr. White: And if that’s no good we’ll try the one up by the prophylactic emporium.
They leave by the main door. Polly’s head appears round the bottom of the stairs.
Polly: OK.
Basil and Manuel hurry down the stairs carrying Mr. Leeman, and into the office. The Major, coming from the bar, sees them. They put
the body on the swivel chair. The Major comes into the office carrying his newspaper.
The Major: Morning, Fawlty.
Basil: Ah, hello, Major.
The Major: Any sign of the papers?
Basil: Well, you’ve got it, Major.
The Major: Have I? So I have, yes. Oh, I say, I say Fawlty . . . (indicating Mr. Leeman) he doesn’t look quite the ticket.
Basil: Major, don’t say anything to anybody, but he’s dead.
The Major: Ah! . . . Shot, was he?
Basil: No, no, no. Died in his sleep.
The Major: In his sleep? Ah, well, you’re off your guard, you see.
Basil: Yes.
The Major: Fawlty . . . I shouldn’t let him lie around here, you know.
Basil: No, no, the undertakers are coming to get him.
The Major: Ah! ’Cos they attract the flies, you see. (he moves off)
Basil goes out into the lobby. Dr. Price has just come out of the dining room.
Dr. Price: Look, I’ve been waiting in there.
Basil: What?
Dr. Price: I haven’t had any breakfast yet.
Basil: Oh, right. Sorry. Coming, coming . . . (he hurries towards the kitchen)
Dr. Price (to himself): It’s only sausages. (he goes into the dining room)
The kitchen. Basil rushes over to the fridge and gets some sausages out. In the background, Miss Tibbs goes to the reception desk and sounds the bell.
Miss Tibbs: Mr. Fawlty, I want a word with you, please.
She rings the bell again. Basil closes the door to the lobby and starts frying the sausages. Then he goes into the dining room, where Dr. Price is sitting at his table.
Basil: Sorry about the delay, doctor. Normal service has been resumed as soon as possible, ha ha ha. (a scream is heard from the direction of the office) . . . More coffee? (another scream) Tea? Tea? (Dr. Price looks at him, puzzled) I’ll turn the radio down.
He goes into the kitchen, then rushes across the lobby to the office. Miss Tibbs is lying flat out on the floor; Mr. Leeman’s arm is swinging slightly.
Basil: Oh! (Manuel and Sybil appear at the door)
Manuel: Miss Tibbs.
Sybil: Oh no.
Basil: Would you believe it?
Sybil: What d’you put him there for?
Basil: Well, he wouldn’t fit in the safe and all the drawers were full. Come on, Manuel. (they start carrying the body out) Wonderful, isn’t it? Our guests. They give us trouble even when they’re dead.
Sybil: Where are you taking him?
Basil: Kitchen.
They hurry off towards the kitchen with the body, but Miss Gatsby appears down the stairs.
Sybil: Polly.
Polly (diverting Miss Gatsby): Just a moment.
Basil and Manuel swerve out of the main doors to avoid Miss Gatsby. Outside they see the Whites about to drive off. Mrs. White sees them and nudges her husband.
Basil: Hallo!
Mr. White looks at them. Polly appears and waves. They all disappear inside. The Whites drive off and there is the sound of a car crash.
In the lobby, Basil and Manuel hurry back in with the body. Polly picks up the sheets and towels from the floor and waves them towards the kitchen; but the dining-room door opens and Mrs. Chase appears carrying a moribund poopie which emits occasional dying noises. She goes upstairs, passing Basil and Manuel who stand there helplessly with the body.
Mrs. Chase: He’s seriously ill.
Basil: Oh dear.
Mrs. Chase: Well don’t just stand there. Call a vet!
Basil: Right.
Mrs. Chase: He’s been poisoned.
She disappears upstairs. The three stare after her, then jerk into action. They hustle the body into the kitchen, which is filled with smoke.
Basil: On the table! On the table! (they put the body down on the table) Open the back door.
Manuel does so. Polly dumps the sheets and towels into a large laundry basket which is by the door, then goes into the lobby. Basil grabs the cremated sausages off the stove. Dr. Price looks in from the dining room.
Basil (showing him the sausages): Sorry about them. Bit overdone, I’m afraid. We’ll send ’em down to the crematorium.
Dr. Price (staring at the body): What in the . . . !!!???
Basil: Oh.
Dr. Price: You can’t keep a dead body in here, where there’s food.
Basil: Can’t we?
Dr. Price: Of course not.
Basil: Oh, right, OK. Sorry. Manuel!
They lift the body again.
Manuel: Where? Where?
Basil: Put it there, in the basket.
They put the body into the laundry basket.
Dr. Price: Not in here . . . not in the kitchen.
Basil: Oh, right.
In the lobby, the Whites are coming in through the main doors. Mrs. White is badly shaken. Mr. White is holding a handkerchief to his head. They go upstairs as Basil and Manuel carry the basket out and dump it in front of the hatstand, which is against the wall between the kitchen and dining-room doors. Basil does not see the Whites, but notices a new visitor, Mr. Ingrams, standing at the reception desk.
Basil: Sybil!
In the bar, Sybil is sitting with a very shaky Miss Tibbs.
Sybil (calling): I’m looking after Miss Tibbs, Basil. (to Miss Tibbs) How are you feeling, dear? (Miss Tibbs just stares fixedly ahead)
In the lobby.
Basil (to Mr. Ingrams): Won’t be two minutes. (he hurries back into the kitchen)
In the kitchen, Dr. Price is waiting for him.
Basil: Sorry about that. (he hurries towards the sausages)
Dr. Price: Wash your hands first, please.
Basil: Oh, right.
Dr. Price: And make sure this area is scrubbed before any more food is prepared in here.
Basil: Absolutely.
Dr. Price: Sausages excepted. You may cook them immediately. I’ll take the risk.
Basil: But of course. Tout de suite.
Dr. Price goes back into the dining room, where Manuel is clearing away his table. Dr. Price puts his hands on the tablecloth just as Manuel tries to remove it.
Dr. Price: Leave it.
Manuel: No, I take it.
Dr. Price: Leave it.
Manuel: No, no, is not time, please. (Dr. Price starts moving salt and pepper from an adjoining table) No, no, no, please.
Dr. Price: I’m sitting here.
Manuel: Is no lunch till twelve.
Dr. Price: I’m still having breakfast.
Manuel: . . . Is finished . . . all gone . . . breakfast kaput.
Dr. Price (sitting): I’m having sausages.
Manuel (confiscating the cruet): Is not allowed.
Dr. Price: Put that back. Look, I’m a doctor. I’m a doctor and I want my sausages.
Manuel: I tell you, is finished. Bye-bye, please, bye-bye.
Dr. Price rises, gets salt and mustard from another table. As he returns, Manuel pinches his knife and fork and darts off. There is no other cutlery around.
Dr. Price: Now look.
Manuel: Is finish.
Dr. Price (getting really angry): Give those to me. (pursues Manuel round the room) Come on, come on.
Manuel: No, is no possible.
They circle the table. Basil comes in from the kitchen.
Basil: Is everything all right?
Manuel: He want to eat now.
Dr. Price: I’ve been trying to sit down, he keeps moving things from my table.
Basil: I’m so sorry.
Dr. Price: He doesn’t seem to understand that I haven’t finished breakfast.
Basil: Manuel? Manuel—let me explain. (he pokes Manuel in the eye) You understand? Good. (to Dr. Price) They’ll be with you in just a couple of minutes.
In the lobby, Sybil is checking in a guest, an ordinary businessman.
Sybil: There we are, Mr. Ingrams, number eight. At the top of the stairs on the right. Excuse me not coming wi
th you but one of our guests has been taken ill.
Mr. Ingrams (taking the key): Thank you.
He goes upstairs and Sybil hurries back into the bar. Miss Young, Mr. Xerxes and Mr. Zebedee come in through the main doors. Mr. Zebedee hangs his hat on the hatstand. Basil and Manuel appear from the dining room and go to the laundry basket, not noticing that it is in a slightly different position.
Mr. Xerxes (to Basil): Ah, excuse me.
Basil (lifting the basket with Manuel): In the office.
Miss Young: Excuse me.
Basil: Yes?
Miss Young: We have an appointment with Mr. Leeman. (Basil and Manuel drop the basket) Do you know where he is?
Basil (sitting casually on the basket): . . . Where he is? Um . . .
Miss Young: Would he be in the dining-room? (Basil indicates a negative)
Mr. Xerxes: Might he be in his room?
Basil: Now let me think . . . where is he . . .
Manuel puts his foot on the basket and imitates Basil’s pose of deep thought.
Miss Young: We’ve come to collect him, as we’re taking him to . . .
Basil: I’m sorry?
Miss Young: We’ve come to collect him.
Basil: Oh—you’ve come to collect him.
Miss Young: Yes.
Basil (standing up): Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. (indicating their clothes) Modern dress.
Miss Young: What?
Basil: Your dress is very modern. I didn’t realize women did it.
Miss Young: Did what?
Basil: Ssh. (points down at the basket)
Mr. Zebedee: He’s downstairs?
Basil (quietly): No, no—in the basket.
Mr. Xerxes: . . . I beg your pardon?
Basil: He’s in the basket.
Miss Young: In the basket?
Basil: Yes. (to a passing guest) Hallo.
Mr. Zebedee: What’s . . . what’s he doing in the basket?
Basil (with a minimal shrug): Well . . . not much.
Mr. Xerxes: What are you talking about?
Basil: Don’t you believe me? Look. Look. (he opens the lid a little; they hesitantly look in; he glances round and opens it more; they look in and look at Basil, mystified; he looks at them, looks in the basket, and reacts with horror. Polly comes downstairs) Oh my God! He’s gone! Where is he?
Polly (pointing into the basket): Fresh laundry.
Basil: They’ve taken him!
Basil, Manuel and Polly rush outside. The laundry van is just pulling away.
Basil, Manuel & Polly: Stop, stop . . . wait, wait . . .
They manage to stop the van. Meanwhile, in the dining room Dr. Price is sitting at his table, his arms folded. He catches the scent of something . . . there is smoke coming through the kitchen doors. In the bar, Sybil is sitting with a staring Miss Tibbs. The reception bell sounds.
