[Basil’s hypocritical rant after two upper-class guests leave]:
Sir Richard Morris: I’ve never been in such a place in my life. [They drive away]
Basil: You snobs. You stupid stuck-up, toffee-nosed, half-witted, upper-class piles of pus.
[Basil squabbling with the German guests after a bump on the head]:
Basil: Is there something wrong?
German Guest: Will you stop talking about the war?
Basil: Me? You started it.
German Guest: We did not!
Basil: Yes, you did. You invaded Poland.
[Basil trying not to mention the war]:
Basil: Listen, don’t mention the war! I mentioned it once, but I think I got away with it all right. [returns to the Germans] So! It’s all forgotten now, and let’s hear no more about it. So, that’s two egg mayonnaise, a prawn Goebbels, a Hermann Goering, and four Colditz salads.
[Basil finally serves a drinks order]:
Mr Wareing: [furious] A gin and orange, a lemon squash, and a scotch and water, please!
[He frog marches Mr Wareing to his table to be served.]
[Basil’s rant at an American guest draws the ire of one of his English guests]:
Mr Johnston: I’m not satisfied
Mr Johnston: I’m not satisfied
Basil: Well, people like you never are, are you?
Mrs Johnston: What?
Basil: There is nothing I could do would please a pair like you, short of putting straw in the rooms.
Mrs Johnston: I think you’re the rudest man I’ve ever met.
Basil: I haven’t started yet.
Mr Johnson: Is there anywhere they do French food?
Basil: Yes, France, I believe. They seem to like it there. And the swim would certainly sharpen your appetite. You’d better hurry, the tide leaves in six minutes.
Basil: Start, you vicious bastard. Oh my God. I’m warning you, if you don’t start… I’ll count to three. 1, 2, 3, right, that does it. I’m going to give you a damn good thrashing.
Basil: This is typical. Absolutely typical…of the kind of…arse I have to put up with from you people. You ponce in here expecting to be waited on hand and foot, while I’m trying to run a hotel here. Have you any idea of how much there is to do? Do you ever think of that? Of course not, you’re all too busy sticking your noses into every corner, poking around for things to complain about, aren’t you? Well let me tell you something – this is exactly how Nazi Germany started. A lot of layabouts with nothing better to do than to cause trouble. Well I’ve had fifteen years of pandering to the likes of you, and I’ve had enough. I’ve had it. Come on, pack your bags and get out.
Mrs Richards: When I pay for a view, I expect something more interesting than that.
Basil: But that is Torquay, madam.
Mrs Richards: Well it’s not good enough.
Basil: Well may I ask what you expected to see out of a Torquay hotel bedroom window? Sydney Opera House perhaps? The Hanging Gardens of Babylon? Herds of wildebeest sweeping majestically…
Mrs Richards: Don’t be silly. I expect to be able to see the sea.
Basil: You can see the sea! It’s over there between the land and the sky!
Guest: I’d need a telescope to see that.
Basil: Well might I suggest you move to a hotel closer to the sea. Or preferably in it.
Mr Hamilton: Couldn’t find the freeway. Had to take a little back street called the M5.
Basil: Well I’m sorry it wasn’t wide enough for you. A lot of the English cars have steering wheels.
Basil: A satisfied customer. We should have him stuffed.
[Sybil rambling to a guest]:
Sybil: Old people are wonderful when they have so much life, aren’t they? Gives us all hope, doesn’t it? My mother on the other hand is a little bit of a trial, really. You know, it’s alright when they have the lifeforce but Mother – well she’s got more of the deathforce really. She’s a worrier. She has these, well, morbid fears they are, really. Vans is one. Rats. Doorknobs. Birds. Heights. Open spaces. Confined spaces. It’s very difficult getting the space right for her really, you know. Footballs. Bicycles. Cows. And she’s always on about men following her, I don’t know what she thinks they’re going to do to her. Vomit on her, Basil says.
Basil: Manuel… my wife informs me that you’re… depressed. Let me tell you something. Depression is a very bad thing. It’s like a virus. If you don’t stamp on it, it
spreads throughout the mind, and then one day you wake up in the morning and you… you can’t face life any more!
Sybil: And then you open a hotel.
Sybil: They all said, at one time or another, how on Earth did the two of us ever get together. “Black magic,” my mother said.
Basil: Well, she’d know, wouldn’t she? Her and that cat.
Sybil: [Figuring what to do with Manuel’s rat] Perhaps we could find a home for him.
Basil: Alright, I’ll put an ad in the papers, “Wanted: kind home for enormous savage rodent! Answers to the name of Sybil.
Sybil: Don’t shout at me. I’ve had a difficult morning.
Basil: Oh, dear, what happened? Did you get entangled in the eiderdown again? Not enough cream in your eclair? Hmmm… or did you have to talk to all your friends for so long that you didn’t have time to perm your ears?
[Sybil’s rant after O’Reilly cocks up the building renovations]:
Sybil: O’Reilly, I have seen more intelligent creatures than you lying on their backs at the bottoms of ponds. I have seen better organised creatures than you running round farmyards with their heads cut off. Now collect your things and GET OUT!! I never want to see you or any of your men in my hotel again!