Don’t mention satire, Basil

Scene: The reception area of a quaint, seaside hotel. Outside, a Morris Marina draws up in a cloud of oil smoke – and a lanky man in a houndstooth jacket and jaunty cravat emerges. On his way in, he passes a pipe-smoking old differ.

Basil: Morning, Major!

Major: Warning? What warning? I never heard the air-raid siren! Oh! global warming! Is there a tsunami coming?

Sybil: Basil, I’ve told you not wind up the major. We don’t want him having a heart attack on the premises. The bloody NHS is so busy with Covid-19, we’d have to stuff him in the coal shed if he snuffs it…

Basil: How on earth did we civilise half the world and win the Battle of Britain with duffers like the major around?

Sybil: Basil – did you not read the directive from the Thought Ministry about being careful about narratives which might offend? And you have been told not to use the C word…

Basil: Oh Colonialism? I’m not stupid, for goodness sake, Sybil! That word went out of fashion years ago – except for that harpie in Cape Town, Helen with the bloody German surname…

Sybil: Basil! Don’t you pay any attention? Didn’t you notice that the Thought Ministry ordered UK TV with withdraw our episode on “Don’t mention the war!” Well I did tell you at the time, Basil, that it was offensive to our colleagues in the European Union.

Basil: That’s why I voted for Brexit! I don’t need these crappy Krauts, with their beautiful efficient cars trying to conquer us again! Why can’t we still have a Morris Minor, which falls apart when you look at it? What’s wrong with a reminder of fine British craftsmanship, I say!

Manuel: Mista Fawlty! Mista Fawlty!

Basil: What is it, you pathetic little … Oh bol-locks, what’s the correct word? … person? Can’t find any bulls to run away from, is it? Or do you want all of your Premiership players back? You can bloody well have them!

Manuel: Thee newthpapers are here. You say hi must tell hugh when they come…Basil (looking at newspapers on table): Where’s the bloody Sunday Independent from South Africa? What else am I going to use to line the parrot’s cage? Stupid bloody bird of Sybil’s anyway. Polly wants a kick up the backside!

Polly (the housemaid enters in fetching apron and shapely legs): Did you call, Mr Fawlty?

Basil: No I didn’t call girl … har har! You’d make quite a nice call girl. With buns like that, you should work in a bakery…

Sybil: Basil, stop being a pig. Did you not read the new government tourist industry policy on Sexual Harassment in the Workplace?

Basil: Bloody interfering civil servant martinets! Can a man not have a bit of fun any more?

Sybil: That’s why we also get The Guardian, dear. I think you need to get in touch with your feminine side, acknowledge your privilege and learn a bit more about global warming and think about veganism. Wasn’t that Greta Thunberg such a lovey girl? If only we could have had a child like that, Basil…

Basil: How, Sybil? Immaculate bloody conception? I haven’t had my leg over for so long I’m even starting to look at the bloody waiter. Damn – my parents should never have sent me to a private boarding school!

Sybil: Calm down, Basil! You never know who might be watching…

Basil: Well they can bloody well sod off! I just want to say…..

WE APOLOGISE FOR THE INTERRRUPTION This programme has been cancelled. Basil Fawlty has been sent to a re-education camp.

Brendan Seery

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