A Real Fawlty Towers

This Fawlty Towers proudly offers "No tan lines."

One of the first British comedies I came to love was “Fawlty Towers.”  This wasn’t a whirlwind romance on my part, as it took me some time to understand the TV show.  It didn’t help that, back in those days, you could only see all twelve episodes by buying four VHS videotapes, each of which cost $20.  But gradually I collected them, until I had the final set.  As I grew more familiar with the stories, and the characters, I came to love them.

Sure, sometimes the plots seemed over-the-top, comedy-wise, but all the characters came across as real and vibrant.  Basil Fawlty, who owned and ran the little hotel, believed that excellence in all areas should be strived for, and expected his guests to feel the same.  His wife, the ever patient Sybil, understood his concern, but felt he should relax his expectations of others, and accept them for who they were.  Polly, their waitress and housekeeper, was hardworking, loyal, and tolerant.  And then there was her fellow staff member, Manuel, who strived to better himself through working in a foreign country and learning English.  He might have been naïve, but he saw his situation as a glass half-full, grateful for everything he received, and as a result, (nearly) always happy.

Some might see Basil as intolerant, but it's easy to judge others, or brand them with simplistic labels.  Basil accepts the character foibles of his older, long-term residents, namely Major Gowen, Miss Tebbs, and Miss Gatsby, even if he sometimes tries to hide them from those he regards as their social betters.  He believes that the incompetent contractor, Mr. O’Reilly, will eventually complete building and repair jobs at a professional level, if only he continues to entrust him with his work.  He refuses to relinquish the beliefs he was raised with, particularly the belief that the aristocracy should be held above reproach.  When Sybil and Polly try to convince him that the guest posing as Lord Melbury is a fraud, Basil refuses to accept their accusations until they show him conclusive proof: that the valuables “Lord Melbury” has locked in the hotel safe are actually two bricks. 

Basil Fawlty may not be perfect, but in many ways he’s like us.  He sets high standards for himself and others, and expects all of us to strive to achieve them.  He refuses to relinquish his dreams, even when others in a similar position would have given up running the hotel, and opted for divorce rather than continue working at a dysfunctional relationship with Sybil.  Sure, he could benefit from a little loosening up in his expectations of others.  Sure, he might be more at peace with the world if he could “go with the flow,” and allow each person to act as he or she saw fit.  But if we’re honest, I think all of us see ourselves as works in progress, rather than having achieved some sort of individual perfection.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, one of the things I had to try when we visited England this year was kipper.  One of the reasons was because I had seen characters in British Comedies eating kippers so often.  As it happened, one of the first VHS tapes I purchased contained the episode “The Kipper and the Corpse.”  In this episode, Basil takes kippers, along with the rest of the man’s breakfast, up to a second floor guestroom.  Unfortunately, he doesn’t realize that the man has died during the night, and when he learns of the man’s death, he initially believes the kippers were off and the man died of food poisoning.  Hijinks ensue as he tries, in various ways, to hide the kippers, as well as the dead man, from everyone else staying in his hotel.  Above all, he can’t allow this one regrettable incident to sully his hotel’s reputation!

The other day, we happened across a real Fawlty Towers.  No, this one isn’t located in Torquay, England, but in Cocoa Beach, Florida.  I don’t know who the manager is, or if the staff operate a restaurant.  If they serve food, I’m guessing that they don’t have kippers on the menu.  But from the looks of it, whoever runs the hotel is definitely looser than Basil Fawlty in his expectations of others.  It seems like a place where a guest can really “go with the flow,” and act as he or she sees fit. 

Whether that’s a good thing or not, I’ll let you make your own judgments. 

Dragon Dave

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The Kipper and the Corpse

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The Kipper and the Corpse

In the “Fawlty Towers” episode “The Kipper and the Corpse,” Basil Fawlty delivers breakfast to one of his lodgers.  As the man is still in bed, propped up against the headboard, Basil sets the tray on the man’s lap.  Caught up in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice the man’s complete lack of response.  When his waitress Polly subsequently visits the room, she returns to report that the man is dead.  Basil, who had previously noticed the expired date on the empty kippers packaging, fears that he’s just poisoned his lodger.  He rushes up to the room, grabs the kippers off the tray, and then is forced to hide in the wardrobe when his wife brings in a doctor to confirm Polly’s prognosis.

On our recent vacation in England, the staff at our hotel in Thirsk brought us such generous portions of food that I hesitated to ask about the kippers on the breakfast menu.  Yet, ever since watching that episode two decades ago, I had been curious about kippers.  Every time a character on another English TV program ate kippers for breakfast, my curiosity increased.  I faced a conundrum.  They listed kippers on the menu, but my taste for fish usually doesn't extend beyond the basic varieties that come battered and fried.  Still, one morning I plucked up my courage.  

Our server apologized: he could not bring me “just a small one to try,” as they were all the same size.  Nevertheless, he seemed anxious to serve me one.  I dug into the rest of my breakfast, and hoped that I wouldn’t take one bite of the kipper and find the taste so disagreeable that I couldn’t eat any more.

"I'm sorry, sir.  We don't serve small kippers."

When the kipper arrived, it was larger than those depicted in the show.  While its head had been removed, the entire skeletal structure remained.  I discovered that if one worked carefully, one could lift the spine out of the fish, and some of the bones came out with it.  But many more remained.  Kipper bones resemble cat whiskers: they’re thin and pliable, and I hadn’t brought my reading glasses to breakfast.  After removing all I could find, I ate several bites, only to crunch thin bones that eluded my efforts and clung to the inside of my throat.  Still, I enjoyed the strong but pleasant flavor, so I worked away on each bite, and then raised the fork to eye level.  With the morning light streaming in through the restaurant windows, I found more bones I had not spotted at plate-level.

During this, the rest of my food was growing cold, my eyes were fatigued from so much squinting, and my wife’s stomach seemed slightly upset.  She pulled the kipper plate over and went to work, separating flesh from bone while I returned to the rest of my food.  At intervals, she scooped sorted-through fish onto my plate.  I still raised each forkful up to eyelevel for a final test, but her diligent work sped my progress through the rest of the meal.  Still, I hadn’t intended to make her do my work, and wondered what the other diners thought of a man who needed his wife to cut up his fish for him.

Having enjoyed the kipper, the next morning I brought down my reading glasses and ordered another.  But time still hurtled by, if anything faster than the day before.  Meanwhile, my wife was just sitting there.  Again, her stomach seemed unsettled.  So after awhile, I let her perform the initial surgery while I worked at the rest of my breakfast.

The next day, I opted for a kipper-free breakfast.  My wife’s appetite returned, and she suffered no more stomach upset during the rest of our vacation.  While I enjoyed their flavor, and am glad to have finally sated my curiosity, I think I’ll steer clear of kippers in the future.  Not only do they take too long to eat, but even if they’re not past their sell-by date, they still seem to make one of us sick.

James Gilbert, who oversaw the pilot and first season of “Last of the Summer Wine,” initially rejected “Fawlty Towers,” declaring it “a disaster.”  Gilbert’s instincts served him well in assessing Summer Wine’s potential: the series would continue production for thirty-eight years.  Perhaps he also had a point about “Fawlty Towers,” as John Cleese and Connie Booth decided to abandon the show after making a mere twelve episodes.  Still, the British Film Institute wouldn't agree, as it's named “Fawlty Towers” the best British comedy of all time. 

Remembering my wife’s rather fishy stomach problems,

Dragon Dave

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Last of the Summer Wine: Part 1

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“Fawlty Towers” TV series

A real life Fawlty Towers motel you may want to visit.  (Or…perhaps not?)