Fawlty Towers may be a work of fiction but it had its genesis in real life. John Cleese was inspired to write the television series (with Connie Booth) after he and the Monty Python crew stayed in a hotel in Torquay in south-western England.
They were mightily amused by the bad behaviour of hotel owner Donald Sinclair, who Cleese later described as being “the most marvellously rude man I’ve ever met”.
Some of Sinclair’s antics included hurling Eric Idle’s briefcase outside for fear it contained a bomb and throwing a bus timetable at a guest who had the temerity to ask when the next bus might arrive.
But sometimes the chaos and confusion rings a little too true and we realise there are some eerie parallels with our own South Coast motel.
Both establishments are in a seaside village, we are also a husband-and-wife team and we have our own slightly bizarre moments.
Take a recent telephone conversation. A woman rang to make a booking and hubby mistook her for our neighbour, who delights in calling us on the pretext of finding a room for her and her crocodile.
The conversation went something like this: “So you want to book a room? I suppose it’s for you and your crocodile? Let me guess, he loves a spa and is very friendly, wouldn’t hurt a fly. You say you’re going to a wedding? That’s not far from us, you could ride your crocodile there and back.”
Suddenly the banter stopped and hubby’s demeanour changed: “You’re not Kate, are you? You really do want to book a room.”
I had my own magic moment a few days later. A honeymoon couple were staying for a few days. The morning after they arrived the husband told me not to service their room as his new wife was “getting her beauty sleep”.
“And she needs it!” I blurted out. There was a stunned silence as my words sank in. I started to back-pedal furiously: “I mean, she deserves it. Weddings are exhausting - she needs to relax.”
Being owner-managers like Basil and Sybil, at times we have the luxury of choosing who beds down with us. Hubby has been known to tell a potential guest: “No mate, we’re full, there’s no room at the inn.”
When the man looks sceptically at the empty car park, Garry adds: “Tourist bus on its way. Be here any minute.”
Another time Garry observed a fellow arrive with two dogs in his car. When the man asked for a room, hubby asked: “For you and the dogs?” “I don’t have any dogs,” the man replied. “And I don’t have any rooms,” Garry responded.
We get some curious requests. One such incident happened at 11pm when a couple roused us with a special appeal: Did we have a toothbrush and some toothpaste.
The girlfriend explained her paramour had forgotten his implements and had eaten garlic prawns for dinner.
“I’ve told him there is no way I’m going to kiss him unless he cleans his teeth,” she said. We obliged. They were all smiles the next day. We have our own Polly, too, except her name is Lil’ Jen. We were servicing a particularly chaotic room recently when in walked the young guest. “I’m sorry it’s so messy,” she said apologetically.
“Well, you should be,” Lil’ Jen spluttered.
I hastily intervened, smoothed the troubled waters and moved Lil’ Jen on.
Ah, the life of a motelier. It can make for great comedy.
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