George (Twickenham)

Basil Fawlty (Fawlty Towers)

Cybil, we are not here to service the needs of any Tom, Dick or Dirty Harry that choose to drag themselves over from the estates. We have to maintain certain standards you know!

 

We are a public house Basil. The clue is in the name. 'Public'. A paying customer is a paying customer, as long as they have money or working credit cards in their pocket then they are welcome as far as I am concerned. Now take the sign down.

Oh Cybil really. Do you honestly believe that we are helping the business by entertaining oiks, like those over there in the snug! I mean for heavens sake, do you know that they ordered a sharing pitcher,..each!

And that's exactly my point Basil. A fifty pound round. We are not in this business for fun you know.

Oh fun,..'Fun',..yes I remember that. Well, it's just as well isn't it!! Can't say that I remember the last time I had 'Fun' in this place. Oh, no, I tell a lie,……there was that time last week when that cockney wideboy fell into the barbeque and burnt his face. That was fun!

Basil really!..That certainly was not 'fun'! And you won't be laughing when we receive the lawsuit paperwork.

Oh 'lawsuit' Cybil really. You think that someone like that has a lawyer!? He could barely speak,..even before he started drinking. He'll have woken up the next morning and forgotten how he did it. Probably hasn't even looked in a mirror or been to the hospital for treatment.

Well lets hope you're right Basil,..but I wouldn't bank on it. Now, take that sign down!

No. I mean Cybil, just look at those two over by the fruit machine. Gazing at it as if it were a solar eclipse or the Northern Lights. Do you know that they've not said a word to each other for the last half an hour. They've just been transfixed by that goggle box.

Well, what's wrong with that? I mean, when was the last time that WE had a proper conversation Basil?

Um,…….i see what you mean. Well, you 'barking orders' at me aside,…..yes, I guess it must have been quite a while since our last 'tete a tete'. Not talking is not necessarily a bad thing then, when you look at it like that I suppose.

No,..not a bad thing at all. Now take it down.

No,..no I won't.

Take it down! And whilst you're at it, apologise to the couple in the corner. Asking them 'if Essex was closed tonight', before they'd even ordered their drinks, may have amused your poisonous little mind, but it was plain rude. And anyway, I happen to know that they live around the corner!

,……….Listen, my little nest of vipers,.can you not just listen! Because if you did, you'd hear that lot on table 7 my sweet. If you've not heard them so far,..just take a moment to do so. Their chit chat is an absolute delight to overhear I can tell you. It's music to the ears. A damning indictment of modern Britain. If I had a pound for every time they uttered the 'C' word,..we'll, I'd be at least 150 pounds up for the day for sure.

But they're on their eighth round Basil. Look in the till,…it's bursting at the seams already, and it's only 7.30.

Cybil really. It's not all about cash is it. Is that what made Britain great? Talking about association football and about how 'That Peter Andre is a f'ing C,..but I'd f'ing love to f his f'ing ex,..that f'ing Jordan,..I bet she goes like the f'ing clappers!'

They're young Basil. That's how the youth speak thesedays.

Well, not in here they don't! Oh no! Not on my time! I going to tell them to go.

No you're not Basil! It's pay-day for most of the building site workers around here, don't you know,..and they've obviously got loads more money to spend.

Since when did we become hostages to the British pound Cybil? Since when?!

Since the fence in the garden fell down in the storms last week. How else do you suggest we pay for it to be fixed? Luncheon vouchers? The goodwill of friends!? Don't make me laugh.

Oh now Cybil please,……I mean look,……you see that guy over there,..the one with the silly haircut and the tracksuit top? Do you know what he just asked me? He came up, bold as brass,..called me 'his old china',..and asked me 'where the blokes sh itters' were! 'Shi tters'!

Oh Basil really!

It's true. I'm telling you. He swaggered over, mobile phone pasted to his ear, with his trousers halfway down his backside and said, 'Easy my old china,…….where are the blokes s hitters in this f'ing khasi!'

Well,……even if he did Basil. I wager any money that his designer wallet is still bulging in those low slug Levis. Now take the sign down!

No,..no I won't. I won't do it,……

BASIL!!!!!!!!

Oh, alright,..alright,..*slapping the back of left hand with his right* *sarcastically to himself "Basil!!",…..ok,.ok,....but I am doing it under protest. I still stand by everything I wrote.

Just take it down Basil. Now!!…..and then go and replace the Fosters, the barrels almost empty…………..Fancy saying 'No, work-soiled clothes or Scum'!!!

Basil's rating for The George - 2 / 10

Rolosocosy

• View by pub
• View by reviewer
• View by place

Falling down the blog

• Natural Selection,..

  “,….. Why didn’t they live to be 100?Huh? Well, they woz running round all day, hunting mammoths, eating berries,..rumping their little hearts out. No boozing or smoking. They must have been fit as fiddles. Yer Neanderthalls……….I’ll tell you why, it’s … Continue reading →