Fawlty Towers
The Big Bang
(Christmas Episode)
Written by Steven de la Salle
Hotel Sign Anagram: SWEATY LOT
Christmas Eve
Mid-afternoon
Basil's hovering about reception, eagerly with a hint of impatience. He glances at his watch and paces up and down - waiting.
A large Christmas tree brushes its star on the ceiling and decorations brighten up the walls.
Santa Claus stumbles into reception, swaying a little. Then he belches - grossly.
BASIL: Good afternoon. You're a bit early! (laughs to himself).
Santa leans on counter and burps again.
BASIL: Where did you park them?
SANTA: (slurring) Who?
BASIL: Your transport.
SANTA: I came on the bus. (Hiccups).
BASIL: So you've mis-SLEIGH-ed them? Ha-ha-ha!
Santa helps himself to a mince pie from the stand on the desk.
BASIL: Do help yourself, Santa.
Santa scoffs away, merrily.
BASIL: How's Rudolph, anyway?
SANTA: (spitting bits of mince pie) What?!
BASIL: Your chief sleigh-puller!
SANTA: Errr...
BASIL: You do know the real reason for his bright red nose, don't you?
Santa continues scoffing.
BASIL: He drinks too much. Raging alcoholic. It's a clear sign. A dead giveaway. Downs it by the bucketload I reckon.
Santa helps himself to another mince pie.
BASIL: Mrs Claus not feeding you these days? (Pauses). I suppose it's...
SANTA: These are good. Got any butter?
Telephone rings.
BASIL: Ah, do excuse me. (Lifts receiver). (To phone): Hello, Fawlty Towers. Ummm... Yes... Excellent! Excellent! HOW LONG?!! Ummm...Plugs? What the... Ears... No, no, no. That's fine. No problem at all. (Checks his watch again). Just after four, you say. Okay okay. Thank you. Thank you so much. (Hangs up).
SANTA: The missus?
BASIL: (Whilst in thought) Umm, no. Just a "little" delivery I'm expecting. A bit of a surprise, so to speak.
SANTA: For the wife?
BASIL: For everybody!
SANTA: Oh! (Pauses). Mine left me. Years ago. Long story. (Another pause). A giant sack of spuds!
BASIL: (Confused) What?!
SANTA: The last present I bought her. Ungrateful cow.
BASIL: Perhaps you should've peeled them! Ha!
SANTA: At least my boy made good use of them.
Basil looks puzzled.
SANTA: Bloody spud gun! Bits of tatty ended up everywhere. Even in my beard!
Basil laughs - forced - while staring at his now "white" beard!
SANTA: Anyhow, I've got a room booked.
BASIL: Oh yes, of course. I remember. I mean, I did book you, after all! Ha! (Puzzled again) May I ask why you're dressed this way so early? Gifts for Guests hour isn't until tomorrow.
SANTA: Saves me lugging it about. You can't take much on the buses, not at busy periods.
BASIL: But...
Major enters reception.
MAJOR: Evening, Fawlty.
BASIL: Afternoon, Major.
MAJOR: Did he come down the chimney?
BASIL: Through the main doors, I think, Major.
MAJOR: I must say, he's a trifle early.
SANTA: I'm a guest!
BASIL: He's got himself changed in plenty of time. Punctuality is a great British trait. You've been put in room 22. It's a single. (Hinting) With a bath! Any luggage at all, Santa?
SANTA: Nah. Only what I'm carrying on me! Ha!
Santa helps himself to another mince pie.
Basil rings the bell.
In dashes Manuel.
BASIL: Show Santa Claus up to Room 22, will you.
MANUEL: Que?
BASIL: Room TWEN-TEE-TOO!
MANUEL: Arhhh, it's Farter Christmas!
BASIL: He will be after all those mince pies.
MANUEL: I put my stocking out already! (Laughs) I hope in morning it is fully filled!
BASIL: Yes. Thank you, Manuel. (Pauses). (To Santa): He's from Barcelona!
MAJOR: Loner? No, no, no. I've seen him with people before. His umm, err, what do you call them...? His friends.
Santa - bewildered - follows Manuel up the stairs.
MAJOR: Opening up yet, Fawlty?
BASIL: Well... Oh well. It is Christmas, after all. Usual is it?
Basil walks into bar area. Major follows.
Polly hurries into reception looking for Mr Fawlty.
Two guests exit through the front doors.
Polly looks about nervously - then ventures into the bar.
POLLY: Ahhh, Mr Fawlty.
BASIL: (Pouring Major's drink) I'll be with you in a moment, Polly.
Nobody else is currently in the bar room.
POLLY: Mr Fawlty, it's rather urgent.
BASIL: (Hurriedly) Yes, yes, I'm coming.
POLLY: It's the sprouts.
BASIL: Sprouts?
POLLY: And, the parsnips.
Basil looks lost.
POLLY: The bulk veg you ordered. On the cheap. Remember?
BASIL: (Sharply) What about it?
POLLY: Chef's tried them.
BASIL: And? And?
POLLY: Well, they're a bit dodgy.
BASIL: Dodgy?
POLLY: They do things.
BASIL: Things? What kind of things?
POLLY: Down below.
BASIL: I... I...
POLLY: Come with me, I'll show you.
They shoot off.
In the kitchen
Polly pinches her nose upon entering.
Basil coughs.
Chef blows off - rudely!
CHEF: It's polluting the atmosphere!
Basil coughs again.
CHEF: An' I've only 'ad one of each.
POLLY: They're dangerous!
BASIL: Danger (cough) ous? What nonsense.
CHEF: My bottom's pretty sore, but blimey, the blimmin' STINK!
BASIL: What the...
Manuel enters and wobbles due to the extreme pong.
MANUEL: You want air freshener?
BASIL: No! (Slaps Manuel on top of head). What's the matter with you all? Just, just open the doors and windows - FULLY!
CHEF: As wide as possible.
POLLY: Yes, but what about the...
BASIL: (Staring at a pot on the hob full of sprouts. And a tray beside it crammed with parsnips.) Errr, did you cook all these, Terry, this afternoon?
CHEF: Yeah, just now.
BASIL: Why? Are you planning on serving them up, tonight, you know, for dinner?
CHEF: No, Mr Fawlty. I just thought I'd try a few. Cos they came with a kind of "warning."
BASIL: A few, 'aye. And what do you mean, they come with a warning? They're vegetables, not hand grenades!
CHEF: May as well be! Here, look... (He shows Basil the sack labels).
BASIL: (Reading label) Oh. Oh. Ohhh. So?
POLLY: Mr Fawlty, they're deadly!
MANUEL: I feel giddy.
POLLY: (Pointing to the air) you can see for yourself.
BASIL: Rubbish!
CHEF: It's true, Mr Fawlty. And my tummy has been rumbling terribly.
BASIL: That's probably the extra-hot Vindaloo you devoured last night. Spicy muck.
Chef shoots off, clutching his stomach.
POLLY: We can't serve these. Not to the guests.
BASIL: What rubbish. There's nothing wrong with them. Manuel - eat one. Of each.
MANUEL: Que?
BASIL: (Doing an eating action) Eat. One. Of. E-e-each!
MANUEL: No no no. I'm no hungry.
POLLY: Why don't you try them, Mr Fawlty.
BASIL: Me?
POLLY: Yes!
BASIL (Cautiously) Oh, very well.
Basil anxiously hand-picks a parsnip from the tray and bites into it, carefully.
BASIL: Mmmmm (pretending to enjoy it).
Then he takes a sprout from the pot.
BASIL: Mmmmm. (Chewing merrily) See, there's absolutely nothing wrong with them. In fact, they taste delicious! Yum yum! And a real bargain at £2.50 a sack!
Polly and Manuel stare at Basil in anticipation.
BASIL: (His face turning a bit "problematic" ) trust me; Fawlty Towers' Christmas Getaway is going to be a huge success! I have a very unique feeling!
Basil suddenly leaves the kitchen - quickly - looking distressed!
Lobby reception
Basil waits, anxiously.
He checks his watch: It's 4:05 p.m.
Polly enters reception.
POLLY: Mrs Fawlty not back yet?
BASIL: (Daydreaming) Huh?
POLLY: Still Christmas shopping?
BASIL: Oh, yes; probably. Well, hope...
A (plain, dirty) van pulls up in the car park, with screechy brakes.
BASIL: (Cheerfully) Ahhh...
POLLY wander off up stairs.
Basil greets two delivery men at the entrance who are carrying a huge - very long - parcel.
MAN 1: Mr Fawlty?
BASIL: (Rubbing hands excitedly) That's me.
MAN 2: Sorry we're a touch late. Bleedin' accident. A wheelchair collided with a go-kart.
MAN 1: Poxy road rage!
BASIL: Ah, no problem! You're here now.
MAN 1: Where do ya want it, mate?
BASIL: Ahh; just in here please. (He guides them inside - up the stairs and to the store-cupboard).
Parcel is delivered.
The two men puff and pant and Basil offers them a mince pie each on their way out.
MAN 2: Ta.
MAN 1 hesitates/waits for a "financial" tip!
Basil stares at them and finally twigs.
BASIL: Oh... Yes... Of course... (Hands over a note from his wallet.)
MAN 1: Merry Christmas!
MAN 2: An' a 'Appy New Year!
BASIL: Yes. Same to you. Thank you VERY much! (Under his breath): Money-grabbing bastards!
The men leave.
A"tipsy" guest "spins" into reception.
TIPSY GUEST: 'Scuse me, Mister. The barman in there is playin' up. He don't know what a snakebite is. Reckons it's sumfin' to do with a python in a shop, or sumfin'!
BASIL: Alright, alright...
Basil leads the guest back into the bar.
BASIL: (to Manuel) Give that to me. (An empty pint glass.)
MANUEL: No, I do it.
BASIL: You don't know how.
MANUEL: I do, I do.
BASIL: You're useless. A waste of DNA.
MANUEL: Man wanted snake. I tell him, pet store for the snake.
BASIL: No!
MANUEL: Yes!
BASIL: No! No! No! (He pours/shows how to pour a snakebite).
MANUEL: Oarrr...
BASIL: Snakebite - half lager, half cider. Easy peasy nose-a-squeezy! (Squeezes Manuel's nose.)
MANUEL: Ooo, I see, I see.
Tipsy guest hisses at Manuel in fun. Then does a "fangs" gesture with his right hand.
Sybil enters lobby carrying lots of bulging carrier bags.
SYBIL: (Loudly) BASIL! BASIL!
Guests trickle down the stairs into bar area and vice-versa.
Basil returns to lobby.
BASIL: Hello, Dear.
SYBIL: These bags are heavy, Basil.
BASIL: Of course, of course. (He takes bags from Sybil). (Sarcastically) closing down sale, was it? They can't have any stock left now, I mean...
SYBIL: (in hope) everything been running smoothly since I've been gone, I take it?
BASIL: As smooth as a snake's behind, my money splashing princess. And its middle. Ha ha!
SYBIL: Are the menus typed up and ready?
BASIL: Yes, yes they are. The guests are currently enjoying drinks and Manuel is serving them "delightfully."
SYBIL: It's a miracle! Well, I suppose it is Christmas...
New scene
Evening.
Laughter fills the air.
Chef is busy cooking and guests are seated in the dining room.
Basil is wearing a tinsel "hat" - as is Polly, Manuel and Chef. Some guests are too!
Food is being served to tables by Polly and Manuel and Basil is "supervising."
BASIL: (to a table of guests) I trust the king prawn balls are to your satisfaction.
GUEST: (nodding) Very nice, thank you.
BASIL: And the wine? Going down a treat, I hope...
GUEST: It's beautiful!
Basil - looking a bit smug - wanders round the room.
Miss Tibbs and Miss Gatsby are enjoying their grub, as is Major.
MAJOR: Japanese food, 'aye Fawlty?
BASIL: Chinese actually, Major.
MISS TIBBS/MISS GATSBY (TOGETHER): We love ours!
Basil smiles at them and strolls into the kitchen.
In kitchen - Basil claps his hands.
BASIL: Well done, Terry. They're really enjoying themselves out there. A 5-star review in the Michelin Guide is in the bag!
Terry smiles.
Sybil enters kitchen.
SYBIL: Basil!
BASIL: Yes, my little dandelion.
SYBIL: Santa's stuck.
BASIL: (jokingly) Not in the chimney, I hope!
SYBIL: On the toilet.
BASIL: The toilet?!
SYBIL: Literally.
Sybil leads Basil towards the problem...
As Basil reaches the stairway a very merry male guest approaches him.
GUEST: Are you the boss?
BASIL: Umm, yes. Yes I am.
GUEST: (Offers his hand. As Basil attempts to shake it, he whips it away - bursting into laughter!) Got ya! Ha! Len's the name, fun's the game. Do you liker limerick?
BASIL: I've never been to Ireland, actually.
GUEST: Ha! Good one, boss! Nah, I mean limericks - the cheeky verse!
Sybil has left sight/gone up stairs.
BASIL: Well, I'm a bit busy at the...
GUEST: There once was a feller called Santa
Who loved glugging that fizzy Fanta.
He just could not stop
And his belly went pop
And bits ended up in Atlanta!
Hahaha! That's a good one, innit!
BASIL: (unimpressed) Marvellous.
GUEST: Limerick Len they call me. I've got a rhyme for every occasion. And pranks galore - that's me. Run my own joke shop - up in Southend, you know.
BASIL: (continuing up the stairs) Really...
Sybil is waiting outside Room 22. She knocks on the door.
'Ooohing' and 'aaahing' noises beam out.
BASIL: What the... (He bangs on the door.) Santa. SANTA! Is everything alright in there?
SANTA: (Calling out) I'm stuck on the loo! My buttocks can't move! (More oohing and aahing).
SYBIL: I've got the key. Can we come in, to help?
SANTA: Aaaah! Oooooh! Yeeeah, get me off this bloody toilet pan! I'm getting pins n needles!
Sybil and Basil enter. They view Santa sitting on the toilet - trousers round his ankles.
SANTA: Welded to it I am.
BASIL: How on earth does one attach their bumcheeks like this?!
SYBIL: We'd better yank him free. It's the only way.
SANTA: Well, be careful. Not too forceful. I don't want my backside shredded. The skin is very sensitive in that area!
Sybil and Basil each grab an arm.
BASIL: After 3. Brace yourself... 1, 2...'
SANTA: Aaah! Oooh!
BASIL: That's better. (He studies the seat, detective-like, and pulls the chain in disgust!) There's some sort of adhesive stuck to the rim.
SANTA: You what?
BASIL: Disgusting!
SANTA: Nothing to do with me!
BASIL: Well, now your bottom's independent again, dinner is being served until 9. Come down when you've unpeeled the gunk from your backside! I'll have the seat de-gunked shortly. Thank you so much.
SANTA: Ta.
SYBIL: Manuel will see to it.
New scene
Back in the dining room
Guests are tucking in, atmosphere is cheery.
Sybil is sipping red wine and chatting to a couple.
Basil is patrolling!
Suddenly -
'AHHHHHH!' (female voice screams!)
Silence beholds.
SCREAMING GUEST: (pointing under her table) What is it?!!
VERY MERRY GUEST (PRANKMAN) sitting with his wife at another table - giggles uncontrollably.
Basil investigates.
A rubber "turd" is visible beneath the table.
Prankman's laughter grows louder.
Basil picks up the turd and sniffs it.
BASIL: It's fake. One of those prank doggy poop thingies.
SCREAMING WOMAN'S HUSBAND: Well who put it there?
PRANKMAN: Sorry, mate. It was me. Just a little joke. Gotta have a laugh. 'A little nonsense every day, keeps the sad bugs well away!' That's my motto.
Screaming woman and husband look unimpressed.
Basil hands it back to Prankman and tuts.
PRANKMAN: There once was a turd on the floor
A real one that stank, for sure.
Then in went a shoe
Right in the dog's poo
Which caused an old fish wife to ROAR!
Ha ha ha! Good one, ain't it...
In waddles Santa, scratching his rear.
BASIL: Arr, Santa, table 6 has been reserved for you.
Santa sits.
BASIL: Here is tonight's menu. Can I get you a drink?
SANTA: I'll have a beer. But none of that canned stuff. Causes havoc with my insides. Burp galore I become.
Basil fetches beer from the kitchen.
The "dangerous" sprouts and parsnips are being peeled by chef in preparation.
BASIL: They look wonderful!
CHEF: On your head be it, Mr Fawlty.
BASIL: Terry, listen, I've tried them both. And they tasted good. Brilliant in fact.
CHEF: And you didn't have any side-effects, like I did?
BASIL: None at all. Apart from...
CHEF: Arrrrr, so you did!
BASIL: A tiny gut rumble is hardly serious. It doesn't require surgical interference. It's just nature's way of saying 'cheers!' Was probably due to those dates anyway. 'Eat Me' they say! Ha! 'Seat Me' they should change that to. Was engaged for almost an hour!
Basil returns with a bottle of beer.
BASIL: So, Santa. Have I been a good boy this year? Will there be plenty of "goodies" in my stocking? (winks.)
SANTA: (swigging beer) Depends.
BASIL: On what?
SANTA: On what Mrs Fawlty has wrapped. I didn't buy the flipping things!
New scene
Christmas Morning
Basil and Sybil are standing in the lobby.
BASIL: Merry Christmas, Dear. (He kisses her on the cheek.)
SYBIL: Merry Christmas, Basil.
BASIL: There's a gift under the tree for you.
SYBIL: (Noticing) So there is.
BASIL: Well...
SYBIL: Well what?
BASIL: Did you, umm, by any chance, you know, get me anything, at all?
SYBIL: (brief pause) I did, actually.
Basil grins discreetly.
Sybil fetches a small present from the office.
SYBIL: Here you are.
BASIL: (disappointed) It's rather small.
SYBIL: Good things come in small packages, Basil.
BASIL: Ah, so they do.
SYBIL: Well, not always.
Basil unwraps his present: it's a pair of white underpants.
BASIL: (sarcastic) Just what I wanted! How thoughtful.
SYBIL: Those skidmarked pants can be thrown away now. I'm sick of the sight of them.
BASIL: (quieter) You have the charm and kindness of Sweeney Todd, darling.
SYBIL: Pardon, Basil?
BASIL I said they're charming, how kind of you!
New scene
Guests are in the bar room, waiting for their presents from Santa.
Santa stumbles in - half-cut - with a big sack of gear.
SANTA: (unenthusiastically, with a cough) Ho! Ho! Ho!
PRANKMAN: Merry Christmas, Santa. How's your rump?
Santa glares at him.
PRANKMAN: Glad to see you removed yourself quickly. I didn't wanna say anything last night, but...
SANTA: It was you!
PRANKMAN: Was only Super Glue, mate. Just a bit of a giggle.
SANTA: (to the room) He stuck me to the toilet - with Super Glue! Blimming charming, ain't it!
Some laughs, some gasps emit.
SCREAMING-GUEST: He put excrement under our table.
PRANKMAN: Len's the name, fun's the game!
In strolls Basil.
SANTA: (pointing) It was 'im, Mr Fawlty. He's the toilet tormentor!
PRANKMAN: Look, I'm sorry. It was just a little prank. Your door was ajar, so... It's in my genes, you see. By the way, did you know the world's biggest toilet museum is in Bognor...? Or is it Luton?
BASIL: (uninterested) Ha! Really?! Well... let's crack on with the gifts. Come on, come on, or your turkey will be as dry and tough as a camel's testicle!
MALE GUEST (MR MIDIA): (inhaling deeply) Smell that, Clare.
FEMALE GUEST (MRS MIDIA) (sniffing) Smells like eggs.
MR MIDIA: It's turkey - and... gammon! Delightful!
MRS MIDIA: (sniffing harder) Oh yes! But... no, there's definitely an eggy pong too. Like rotten eggs! And... rotting... flesh! Errrrr! Errrrr! ERRRRRRRRRR!
Noses twitch as the horrible smell grows!
BASIL: (to Clare - apologetically) Are you, are you okay, Mrs Midia?
MRS MIDIA: No! No I'm not. That stink is rank!
BASIL: (sniffing desperately) What the bloody heck is going on?
Prankman tries to conceal his laughter in the corner of the room.
MR MIDIA: Reminds me of our compost heap. Come on, Clare, let's get out of here.
BASIL: Christmas dinner begins at 1. Don't forget.
Other guests evacuate.
BASIL: Where are you all going? The bar is set to open and serve drinks to you all.
Prankman can't conceal his laughter.
BASIL: (noticing) Is this your doing, again?
PRANKMAN: (After a burst of laughter) Sorry, Mr Fawlty. I couldn't resist. Found a spare one in my trouser pocket!
BASIL: Found a what?
PRANKMAN: Cannister of Nose-Pinch Spray! (Reveals the can). Look!
BASIL: Right. Thank you. Thank you so bloody much. (Leaves room, annoyed).
New Scene
Kitchen.
Christmas dinner is being dished up.
BASIL: (to himself) I'll get that twit. Thinks he's funny, does he... (To Terry): Umm, Terry. Table 4- which plates are theirs?
TERRY: (pointing) Those two, Mr Fawlty.
BASIL: Right.
Basil sprinkles laxative powder over plates and grins, smugly.
Dining Room
Polly and Manuel (again with Christmas hats on) serve dinners.
Basil hovers about - watching, eagerly.
Sybil is chatting to Miss Tibbs/Miss Gatsby.
MAJOR: These sprouts are tasty, old boy. Very grand!
BASIL: Thank you, Major.
Other guests indulge.
Table 4's meals arrive.
Basil grins, cunningly.
In trots Santa.
BASIL: Merry Christmas, Santa. Apologies for earlier's early ending! I trust the guests received their presents in the end...
SANTA: I left them outside their rooms.
BASIL: Yes, yes, so you did. I received mine. What a lovely pair of sweat-busting socks. Just what I've always wanted. Sorry about the eggy stink, by the way.
SANTA: That bloke is a bleeding menace! Should be barred!
BASIL: Don't worry about him. (To Sybil): Did you unwrap your present, Dear. The one, from me, beneath the tree?
SYBIL: Yes, Basil. I did.
BASIL: And?
SYBIL: Thank you. (To old ladies - quieter) It is the thought that counts, I suppose.
BASIL: (Mumbling) Ungrateful old warthog! (Blows a raspberry).
Santa tries to sit down but a couple are seated at his table.
SYBIL: (noticing) Ah, Santa, I do apologise, but Mr and Mrs Wanglecock have been seated here this afternoon. This is table 4. Table 6 has been re-positioned (points to it).
SANTA: Oh, right.
BASIL: (apologetically) I didn't know anything about this, Sybil.
TABLE 4 (PRANKMAN! AND HIS WIFE): Excuse me!
SYBIL: Yes.
PRANKMAN: We ordered the vegetarian option. Not turkey and...
SYBIL: I do apologise, Mr Wanglecock. I'll change it with chef at once. I'm afraid my husband must have got things mixed up. (Offering an empty table) Would you mind sitting here, instead? Can I get you any more drinks?
Basil looks astonished!
SYBIL: Santa, you are to be seated here after all! Turkey and gammon is fine with you, I trust...
SANTA: Yes please, I'm starvin'!
Sybil puts Santa's plate down and takes the "second" table 4 meat dinner - handing it to Basil.
SYBIL: You can have your break now, Basil. Here you are, go and enjoy yourself.
BASIL: (in shock!!) Ummm, no. It's okay.
SYBIL: What?
BASIL: I, errr, I'm not hungry yet. Had a bunch of peanuts and cashews and crisps a short while ago. (Pats belly.)
SYBIL: But, Basil...
BASIL: Why don't you have it instead, Petal!
SYBIL: But...
BASIL: I insist.
Sybil takes the plate into the dining room and Basil smirks.
SYBIL: (surprised/stunned) How thoughtful.
New scene
Guests tuck into their dinners.
"Discreet" trumps break free - strange glances are shared!
SANTA: (sweating in discomfort) I need the bog!
Basil is gutted his plan has gone wrong, but is still joyful that the "other tampered with meal" has gone to Sybil!
Santa hurries off in desperation.
Blow off sounds increase in the dining room as further parsnips and sprouts are gobbled.
Basil is peeved that Prankman and his wife are having a fab time.
BASIL: (to Prankman) Would you care for any seconds?
PRANKMAN: (stuffing his nutroast) This is lovely, Mr Fawlty. These parsnips are terrific! Got any leftover?
BASIL: (grabbing his plate) Certainly! There's plenty more where they come from.
PRANKMAN'S WIFE (MRS WANGLECOCK) None for me, thanks. I'm full! Lovely though!
PRANKMAN: (Calling out) That stuffing was wicked too. Some more of that as well, please!
BASIL: (To himself) I'll give you a stuffing, you twit.
Basil eagerly returns to kitchen and piles up Prankman's plate with seconds (adding lots of laxative)!
SYBIL enters kitchen.
SYBIL: Basil! There's a ginormous cracker in our store cupboard. It's over six foot long!
BASIL: Yes, I know, Dear. I ordered it.
SYBIL: What for?
BASIL: To water the garden with! What do you think? To pull, my mini Einstein! To pull! To bang! To deliver fun to the stuffed faces and bulging bellies in there! (Pointing with head).
Basil re-enters dining room, looking chuffed.
SYBIL: (following) And how much did it cost, Basil?
BASIL: Not very much.
SYBIL: We organised this Christmas Getaway to make a profit. Not to have fun!
BASIL: Yes, Dear, and we will. We will.
SYBIL: And what IS that pong?
BASIL: (panicking) Umm... I'll open a window. Are you, by any chance, feeling alright yourself, and not a trifle rough, or anything?
SYBIL: Rough?
BASIL: Do your inside's require sandpapering at all?
SYBIL: I'm feeling fine, Basil.
BASIL: (unimpressed) Oh, good. Good.
Guests start coughing / choking due to the blow-off pongs!
SYBIL: What is that smell?
BASIL: (Mumbling) I bet it's him. Another of his stupid jokes. The Prankster Prat from Southend.
Manuel maniacally sprays air freshener. Polly fixes doors open.
Basil darts off to fetch the cracker!
SYBIL: What's going on, Polly?
POLLY: Oh... I don't know, Mrs Fawlty.
Guests complain about stink as the coughing and choking ceases.
Basil returns in a hurry with his cracker surprise!
BASIL: (Addressing dining room) Good afternoon everybody. I hope you're enjoying your Christmas dinners and here is a little surprise.. well, actually a BIG surprise, from us, to you all.
Excited, guests watch on.
BASIL: This, I think you'll find, is the largest cracker in Torquay!
Giggles emit.
BASIL: Who'd like to pull it?
PRANKMAN: (Suddenly desperate) Not me. I'm, I'm, I'm just popping upstairs...! (Charges off)!
SYBIL: Where's Santa, Basil?
BASIL: Umm... Oh... Never mind. How about you Mrs Midia? Mrs Wanglecock? Major?
MANUEL: I'll do it!
BASIL: Not you!
SYBIL: Why don't we wait a bit longer. Until the guests have finished their dinners. And when Santa's returned...
BASIL: Oh, very well.
SYBIL: Go and have yours now. I've put it under the grill with that cranberry sauce you like.
BASIL: Yes, yes I will. I am rather peckish now. Thank you. Merry Christmas!
New Scene
Basil is sitting in the office, enjoying his meal, wearing a grin!
Sybil enters.
SYBIL: Pleased with yourself, are you?
BASIL: What?
SYBIL: The entire dining room's been evacuated, Basil.
BASIL: Evacuated?
SYBIL: Chef told me.
Basil realises.
BASIL: (trying to change subject) Ahh, I see you're wearing the gift I bought you!
SYBIL is wearing a pair of fluffy red earmuffs with: SNOREQUAKE on one ear and GOODBYE on the other.
SYBIL: If they want their money back - you can deal with them. Their whining is giving me a headache.
BASIL: There was nothing wrong with them, I tell you. (Suddenly) I know how to cheer the miserable old farts back up!
SYBIL: You've caused quite enough fuss for one day, Basil.
BASIL: The Big BANG!
Manuel charges into the office.
MANUEL: Mr Fawlty, Mr Fawlty. There's a problem!
BASIL: Oh, what is it now?
MANUEL: Joke man is stuck.
SYBIL: Stuck?
MANUEL: To the seat.
SYBIL: Stuck to the seat?
MANUEL: I hear him crying from his room. Umm, what he say... 'My bottom is fused to the seat!
BASIL: Fused? Well, it is currently conducting I suppose, but -
SYBIL: Basil! What's going on?
BASIL: (smiling) I got my revenge, Dear. At long last, I am triumphant! I must say, that Super Glue is jolly good stuff! Ha-ha!
All of a sudden, Basil's facial expression changes.
MANUEL: Are you okay, Mr Fawlty?
Basil squeals.
SYBIL: (unsympathetic) You only have yourself to blame. You ordered that cheap veg.
BASIL: (in distress) You don't seem to be troubled by it.
SYBIL: I've not eaten any.
BASIL: But - the plate I gave you...
SYBIL: I didn't fancy it then, so... You've just polished it off.
BASIL: (in alarm/high pitch) No...!!
Off flies a very desperate Basil!
Final scene
Basil remains on the toilet.
BANG!!!!!
Thud!
Screams
"My belly's gurgling!"
Laughter
"I need the lavatory!"
"Me too!"
Help! Help!
SYBIL'S VOICE FROM A DISTANCE:: Basil! Basil!
POLLY'S VOICE: I think he's fainted!
A GUEST'S VOICE: My ears have popped!
SYBIL'S VOICE: Basil! Basil!
MANUEL'S VOICE: Ahhh, lots of little screwdrivers!
Basil - in discomfort - manages to pull a crafty smile!
End.
