Written by John Cleese and Connie Booth.

A Touch of Class

[Classical music is playing in the background. Basil is putting up a picture. Sybil walks in.]

Sybil: Don't forget the menu.

Basil: I beg your pardon?

Sybil: Don't forget the menu.

Basil: I thought you said you want— Right! I'll do the menu!

[puts down the picture, walks over to a typewriter and sits down.]

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

Basil: Racket? That's Brahms! Brahms' Third Racket!

Basil: Hello, Fawlty Towers. Ah, yes, Mr. O'Reilly. Well, it's quite simple. When I asked you to build me a wall, I was rather thinking that instead of just dumping the bricks down in a pile, you might find time to cement them together one on top of the other in the usual fashion. [to Melbury] Could you fill it in, please? [to O'Reilly] Oh, splendid! Yes, but when, Mr. O'Reilly? [to Melbury] There. There. [to O'Reilly] Yes, but when? Ah, I see: the flu. [to Melbury] Both names, please. [to O'Reilly] Yes, I should have guessed, Mr. O'Reilly; that and the potato famine, I suppose.

Melbury: I'm sorry?

Basil: Could you put both your names please? [to O'Reilly] Well, can you give me a date?

Melbury: I only use one.

Basil: You don't have a first name?

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

Basil: [to O'Reilly] Go away. [hangs up] So sorry to have kept you waiting, your lordship. I do apologise.

The Builders

Sybil: O'Reilly, I have seen more intelligent creatures than you lying on their backs at the bottoms of ponds. I have seen better organized creatures than you running round farmyards with their heads cut off. Now take your belongings and get out. I never want to see you or any of your men in my hotel again.

Basil: Ah, hello, Mr. O'Reilly. How are you? Oh sorry, nearly forgot: Basil Fawlty, remember? The poor sod you do jobs for. So how are things your end? Ah, splendid. Now how would you like to hear how things are my end? Oh, well, up to your usual standard I think the odd hole in the wall, the odd door missing; but nothing you can't be sued for.

The Wedding Party

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

Major Gowen: "How To Murder Your Wife"?

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

Basil: Always reminds me of somebody machine-gunning a seal.

Major Gowen: The heat?

Basil: No, no. My wife's laugh.

Basil: [about Sybil's laughter] Please don't alarm yourself, it's only my wife laughing. I'm afraid her local finishing school was bombed.

Mrs. Peignoir: [shocked] Oh dear!

Basil: No, no, not really. Just a thought. Well now, what can I get you?

Mrs. Peignoir: Do you have any Ricard?

Basil: [confused] I'm sorry?

Mrs. Peignoir: Any Ricard?

Basil: [unsure what Ricard is, he pretends to check the bar] uh, we're just out of it, I think...

The Hotel Inspectors

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

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

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

Sybil: Co-operation? That's a laugh. The day you co-operate, you'll be in a wooden box.

Gourmet Night

Basil: He's drunk!

Sybil: Drunk?

Basil: Drunk. Soused. Potted. Inebriated. Got it?

Sybil: I can't believe this!

Basil: I don't, either. Maybe it's a dream. [pounds his head on the desk several times, sits up, looks around.] Nope, it's not a dream. We're stuck with it.

Basil: [yelling at his car] Come on! Come on! 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! [leaving the car, he starts yelling at it] I've had enough of this! You've tried it on 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! Well, this is it! I'm going to give you a damn good thrashing! [he leaves the frame, returns holding a branch and starts thrashing the car over the bonnet]

The Germans

Basil: Listen, don't mention the war! I mentioned it once, but I think I got away with it all right. [returns to the Germans] So! It's all forgotten now, and let's hear no more about it. So, that's two egg mayonnaise, a prawn Goebbels, a Hermann Goering, and four Colditz salads.

Basil: Is there something wrong?

Elder Herr: Will you stop talking about the war?!

Basil: Me! You started it!

Elder Herr: We did not start it!

Basil: Yes you did — you invaded Poland.

Communication Problems

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.

Basil: 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: What?

Basil: Nothing.

Mrs Richards: Anyway, listen. I am not satisfied. Nevertheless, 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.

The Psychiatrist

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!

Waldorf Salad

Mr. Hamilton: What I'm suggesting 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!

The Kipper and the Corpse

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.

The Anniversary

[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: Yes?

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.

Basil the Rat

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.