John Cleese: Basil Fawlty

Waldorf Salad

Basil Fawlty

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?

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 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!

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 puréeing your loved ones, that's the difficult part.

[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 Appétit
[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.

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, you're 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?

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!

Basil Fawlty: Have you by any chance ever tried a Ritz salad?
Mr. Harry Hamilton: Ritz?
Basil Fawlty: Yes, it's a traditional old English thing. It's apples, grapefruit, and potatoes in a mayonnaise sauce.
Mr. Harry Hamilton: No, I don't think I ever tried that. Don't think I ever will, either.

Basil Fawlty: Hello dear, I'm back.
Sybil Fawlty: What do you want, Basil?
Basil Fawlty: A room, please, um, number 12 is free, I think. Now, I'd like breakfast in bed at half-past ten in the morning, please. That's eggs, bacon, sausage, and tomato with a Waldorf salad, all washed down with lashings of hot screwdriver.