Scene: The Reception Desk at Fawlty Towers
The lobby is quiet. Basil is leafing through a dusty ledger, muttering about overdue payments. Sybil’s voice rings out from the back office, yelling about “cleaning that horrid moose head.” Suddenly, the bell at the reception desk is rung, not once, but in an aggressively rhythmic sequence.
Basil: (looks up sharply, scowling) Yes, yes, I heard you! What is this, a rock concert? (pauses, taking in the newcomer)
Woke Hipster: (sporting a waxed moustache, round glasses, and a "Save the Snails" t-shirt) Greetings! I have arrived for my eco-stay experience.
Basil: (confused) Eco-what?
Woke Hipster: Eco-stay. It’s all about sustainable travel. I read in The Ethical Traveller that you’re a “hidden gem”—a retro experience with a carbon footprint so small it’s practically wearing vegan sandals.
Basil: (sarcastic) Oh, we’re retro all right. Half the rooms haven’t been touched since Queen Victoria popped her clogs. So you’ll be right at home, Mr...?
Woke Hipster: (coolly) Just call me Raven. No pronouns, please. Labels are a tool of the hetero-patriarchal construct.
Basil: (blinking rapidly) Raven. Of course. Well, we’ll be sure to stick you in the aviary. Would you like a perch or a nest?
Woke Hipster: (ignoring the jab) I hope the water in my room is rain-harvested and the sheets are cruelty-free. Oh, and the wi-fi needs to support my NFT minting.
Basil: (deadpan) Wi-fi? Oh, yes, absolutely. It’s powered by the chickens in the back garden. (leans in) But I must warn you—they’re unionising.
Woke Hipster: (nodding earnestly) Solidarity. I respect that. Chickens are among the most marginalised voices in the animal kingdom.
Manuel: (arriving with a tray) Excuse me, Mr. Fawlty, the tap in Room 5 is still doing the... (mimes a gurgling sound) I try to fix, but the pipes, they scream at me.
Basil: (ignoring him) Yes, yes, go away, Manuel.
Raven: (alarmed) Wait—pipes? Screaming? Is this building not ethically sourced?
Basil: (grinning devilishly) Oh, absolutely. Sourced from the finest asbestos mines in the country. It’s practically vintage!
Raven: (visibly distressed) That is not OK! I can’t stay here if you’re exploiting unsafe labour practices from the 1970s!
Major: (wandering in, holding a sherry) What’s all this fuss about labour? Never trust the unions, I say. Too many women. No backbone!
Raven: (horrified) That’s sexist!
Major: (squinting) Is it? Oh, good. I wouldn’t want to disappoint.
Sybil: (entering, catching the tail end of the chaos) Basil, what’s going on here? Who’s this, and why does he look like he’s about to cry into his... whatever that is?
Raven: (snapping) It’s a kombucha! And I’m not crying—I’m triggered! This place is a microaggression factory!
Sybil: (with a bright smile) Oh, I’m so sorry. Would you like a free therapy session with our resident expert, Basil Fawlty?
Basil: (outraged) I beg your pardon?!
Sybil: (ignoring him) He’s marvellous at customer care. Let me show you to the bar, Raven. It’s got a delightful view of the hedge Basil hasn’t trimmed in six months.
Raven: (grumbling) I hope your bar serves oat milk and carries gender-neutral cocktails.
Basil: (muttering as they leave) Oh, it’ll carry something all right... right out the door if I have my way.
Scene 2: The Dining Room – Breakfast Service
Raven is seated at a table, appraising the menu with a critical eye. Polly is serving coffee while Manuel is bumbling with a tray of toast.
Raven: (snapping fingers at Polly) Excuse me, this menu is extremely problematic.
Polly: (blinking) Problematic? What’s wrong with it?
Raven: (gesturing dramatically) Where’s the vegan section? The gluten-free options? Do you realise how many people are marginalised by your insistence on “eggs and bacon”?
Manuel: (cheerfully, mishearing) You want more bacon? Sí, señor, I get for you!
Raven: (horrified) No! No bacon! No eggs! Animals are friends, not food!
Manuel: (confused) The pig is your friend?
Basil: (entering just in time to overhear) Of course it’s his friend, Manuel. And later they’ll play charades and swap recipes for kale smoothies.
Raven: (standing up, outraged) This is exactly the kind of sneering, boomer attitude that makes the world such a toxic place!
Basil: Toxic? Oh, no, this place is delightfully toxic. Why, we’ve even won awards for it! (turns to Polly) Did you know, Polly, we’ve been ranked in the top ten most insufferable hotels in the UK?
Polly: (dryly) No surprises there.
Raven: (to Polly) How can you work here? Don’t you feel oppressed by his patriarchal tyranny?
Polly: (smirking) Oh, every day. I’d quit, but I’d miss the show.
Basil: (grinning) That’s the spirit, Polly! See, Raven? Even the oppressed enjoy a good laugh. Now, would you like a plate of our very best “speciesist” sausages or are you planning to starve in protest?
Raven: (glowering) I’ll just have some water. Filtered, please, with a pH of 7.8.
Basil: (rolling his eyes) Filtered water. Perfect. Polly, fetch some Evian for the social justice crusader here. And while you’re at it, see if we’ve got any fair-trade coffee and a participation trophy.
Scene 3: The Bar – Later That Evening
Raven sits with a laptop plastered in progressive stickers, loudly dictating a vlog entry.
Raven: (into a camera) Friends, I’m live from one of Britain’s most outdated institutions. This so-called “hotel” is a bastion of ignorance, run by a man so antiquated he probably thinks the Earth is flat—
Major: (staggering over with a sherry) Flat? Nonsense! Who told you that? It’s oblong, like a cricket pitch.
Raven: (sighing) Who even are you?
Major: (squinting) Major Gowen. Former military man. Lovely to meet you, my boy. Are you here for the bridge tournament?
Raven: (exasperated) No, I’m here to expose societal injustices, dismantle capitalism, and challenge the oppressive systems of power.
Major: (patting his shoulder) Good for you! Used to know a chap who wanted to dismantle things. Blew up a latrine in Cairo. Terrible aim, though—missed the generals entirely.
Raven: (turning back to the camera) This is what I’m talking about—living fossils spouting colonialist nonsense. If I had my way, this place would be shut down and turned into a centre for environmental healing!
Basil: (bursting in) A centre for what?! Oh, no, no, no—you can’t just heal the environment, Raven. Not unless you’ve got a magic wand and a choir of dolphins to sing kumbaya.
Raven: (leaping up) And there it is! Mockery! You’re dismissing my generation’s genuine concerns—
Basil: (cutting him off) Yes, I’m dismissing them, because they’re ridiculous! You want to turn my hotel into a tree-hugging, vegan utopia while I’m struggling to keep the roof from caving in! Do you have any idea what it costs to run a place like this?
Raven: (coolly) Maybe if you stopped exploiting the working class—
Manuel: (appearing with a tray) Señor Fawlty! The sink in Room 4 is exploding!
Basil: (pointing dramatically at Raven) See?! That’s not oppression—it’s plumbing!
Scene 4: The Lobby – Midnight
The hotel is now in chaos. Manuel is chasing an escaped ferret (brought by another guest), Sybil is berating Basil for insulting Raven, and Raven is staging a sit-in protest on the lobby floor.
Sybil: (yelling) You’ll drive us out of business, Basil! This is the kind of guest who writes reviews!
Basil: (throwing his arms up) Oh, good! Maybe he’ll write one about how we let him camp out on the carpet like some hippie squatter!
Raven: (chanting) No justice, no peace! Veganism for all!
Major: (wandering through) What’s all this? A protest? Smashing idea! Shall I fetch the flags?
Manuel: (shouting) Señor Fawlty! The ferret, he’s in the kitchen!
Sybil: (screaming) Not in the kitchen! I just cleaned it!
Basil: (rubbing his temples) This isn’t a hotel. It’s a madhouse. A woke madhouse.
Raven: (smirking) And maybe it’s time you realised the world has moved on, Mr. Fawlty.
Basil: (leaning down, nose-to-nose with Raven) Oh, I’ve moved on, all right—straight to the brink of insanity! And you, sir, are the straw that’s broken the camel’s back. If I didn’t have to worry about reviews, I’d throw you out on your ethically-sourced backside this instant!
