[Scene: The reception desk at Fawlty Towers. Basil Fawlty is arguing with Sybil over an unpaid bill. Suddenly, a loud mechanical voice echoes through the lobby.]
Dalek: "EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE... ALL VACANCIES!"
Basil: [Turning sharply, already annoyed] “Good heavens, what in the blazes is that noise? Manuel! Have you left the television on again?!”
Manuel: [Peeks out timidly from the dining room] “No, Meester Fawlty. No television!”
Dalek: [Rolling into view, its plunger-arm extended] “I REQUIRE ACCOMMODATION! I REQUIRE... AN EN-SUITE!”
Basil: [Recoils in horror but quickly recovers with a sneer] “Oh, terrific. We’ve moved on from German tourists to whatever this is. Sybil! We’ve got a pepper pot with anger issues trying to book a room!”
Sybil: [Poking her head out of the office, unimpressed] “Basil, just sort it out. I’m busy.”
Basil: “Sort it out?! How exactly does one sort out a deranged tin can?! Shall I offer it tea and biscuits?”
Dalek: [Turns to Sybil] “DO NOT IGNORE ME! I DEMAND SUPERIOR CUSTOMER SERVICE!”
Basil: [Clapping his hands mockingly] “Oh, yes, of course! Because we pride ourselves on catering to homicidal toasters. Will that be cash or credit, Mr. Dustbin?”
Dalek: “YOUR INSOLENCE WILL BE PUNISHED! YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED!”
Manuel: [Hiding behind the desk] “No, please! No exterminee! I clean rooms, I no fight robots!”
Basil: [Grabs Manuel by the shoulder] “Stop cowering, you idiot! It’s probably just a glorified vacuum cleaner. What’s it going to do—hoover me to death?”
Dalek: [Plunger-arm extends, grabbing a vase from the reception desk and smashing it] “YOU WILL PROVIDE ACCOMMODATION... OR FACE OBLITERATION!”
Basil: [Now in full meltdown mode] “Right, that’s it! You listen to me, you glorified tin of baked beans! This is a respectable establishment! We don’t take kindly to threats, and we certainly don’t cater to the whims of—”
Sybil: [Interrupting] “Basil!”
Basil: “What?”
Sybil: “Give it Room 7. It’s not like Major Gowen will notice.”
Dalek: “ACCEPTABLE! I REQUIRE FULL BOARD. ALSO... WI-FI!”
Basil: [Throws his hands in the air] “Of course you do! Why not throw in afternoon tea and a guided tour while we’re at it?!”
Manuel: [Whispering nervously] “Meester Fawlty, what if it does exterminee?”
Basil: “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Manuel. It’s clearly just here for a holiday. Probably wants to take in the local sights. ‘Exterminate’ the pigeons on the pier, that sort of thing.”
Dalek: “YOU WILL SHOW ME TO MY ROOM!”
Basil: [Mutters to himself as he grabs a key] “Why me? Why is it always me? Next, it’ll be a Cyberman wanting breakfast in bed.” [To the Dalek] “Right this way, Sir—or Madam—or... whatever you are. Don’t scratch the carpet!”
Dalek: [Follows Basil towards the stairs] “STAIRS? STAIRCASE DETECTED! YOU MOCK ME!”
Basil: [Smirks as he ascends the stairs] “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. Manuel! Fetch the ladder! Looks like our guest needs a bit of a lift.”
Manuel: [Wailing] “No exterminee! No ladder! I quit!”
Sybil: [From the office, sipping her drink] “You brought this on yourself, Basil.”
[Scene ends with Basil shouting at Manuel and the Dalek attempting to levitate up the stairs, much to the horror of the other guests.]
[Scene: Basil has reluctantly shown the Dalek to its room (Room 7) and returned to the reception area, muttering under his breath. The Major enters from the dining room, newspaper in hand.]
Major: [Cheerfully oblivious] “Morning, Fawlty! Splendid weather we’re having. Did you see the cricket results?”
Basil: [Groaning] “No, Major, I’ve been rather busy, entertaining our latest guest.”
Major: “Ah, good man. Foreign, is he?”
Basil: “You could say that. It’s a Dalek.”
Major: [Pausing, squinting at Basil] “A Dalek? Is that one of those fellows from Delhi? Charming people, you know. Took a girl from there to see the cricket once. Lovely figure. Disappeared with my wallet, though.”
Basil: [Pinching the bridge of his nose] “No, Major, it’s not from Delhi. It’s not even human! It’s a... robot. A homicidal one, at that!”
Major: [Lowering his voice conspiratorially] “Ah, I see. One of those German robots, is it? Can’t trust the blighters.”
Basil: “For the last time, Major, it’s not German! It’s an alien death machine from outer space!”
Major: [Chuckling indulgently] “Oh, jolly good, Fawlty! Always joking, aren’t you?” [Leaning in] “Where is this, er, alien of yours, then?”
Basil: [Gesturing towards the stairs] “Room 7. Probably vaporising the wallpaper as we speak.”
Major: [Perks up] “Vaporising, eh? I’ll have a word with him! Always good to chat with the guests. Build a bit of camaraderie, what?”
Basil: [Alarmed] “Major, I really don’t think—”
[Too late. The Major marches upstairs, armed with his newspaper. Moments later, the Dalek’s unmistakable voice echoes down the staircase.]
Dalek: “HUMAN DETECTED! IDENTIFY YOURSELF!”
Major: [Unfazed, addressing the Dalek] “Ah, yes! Major Gowen, retired. Royal Artillery. Splendid to meet you, old chap. Now, what’s all this about vaporising?”
Dalek: “YOU WILL SUBMIT TO THE DALEK EMPIRE!”
Major: [Chuckling] “Empire, eh? Never cared much for empires. Except our own, of course. But I’ll say this for you—damn fine manners! Haven’t been called ‘sir’ in years.”
Dalek: “YOU WILL OBEY OR BE EXTERMINATED!”
Major: [Tapping his newspaper thoughtfully] “Hmm. You remind me of a girl I knew in Rangoon. Always shouting orders. Terrifying temper, but a lovely dancer. Do you dance, old boy?”
Dalek: [Plunger-arm trembling with frustration] “DALEKS DO NOT DANCE! DALEKS CONQUER AND DESTROY!”
Major: [Nods approvingly] “Ah, military man, are you? Well, I suppose that explains the uniform. Bit shiny for my taste, but each to his own.”
[Basil appears at the top of the stairs, frantically waving his arms.]
Basil: “Major, for God’s sake, stop chatting and get down here before it decides to exterminate someone!”
Major: [Turning to Basil] “Nonsense, Fawlty. This chap wouldn’t harm a fly. Bit of bluster, that’s all.” [To the Dalek] “What say we nip down for a drink? I’ll tell you about the time I faced a charging elephant with nothing but a cricket bat!”
Dalek: [Momentarily stunned] “ANALYSIS... INCONCLUSIVE. HUMAN IS IRRATIONAL.”
Basil: [Clutching his head] “Of course he’s irrational! He’s the Major! Now, please come downstairs before—”
[At that moment, Manuel rushes up the stairs, carrying towels.]
Manuel: [To Basil] “Meester Fawlty, I bring towels for robot!”
Dalek: [Turning to Manuel] “YOU WILL SERVE THE DALEK EMPIRE!”
Manuel: [Nods eagerly] “Sí, I serve! I bring more towels?”
Basil: [Snatching the towels from Manuel] “Oh, for pity’s sake, stop encouraging it! This is a hotel, not a sci-fi convention!”
[The Dalek begins to glide ominously down the hallway, its eyestalk swivelling between Basil, the Major, and Manuel.]
Dalek: “THIS ESTABLISHMENT IS INEFFICIENT. IT WILL BE RESTRUCTURED UNDER DALEK CONTROL!”
Major: [Puffing up his chest] “Now, look here, old boy, we don’t take kindly to that sort of talk. Fawlty may be a bit of a bungler, but this is his castle, what?”
Dalek: [Turns to the Major] “DEFENDING A WEAKLING IS FUTILE!”
Major: [Indignant] “Weakling? I’ll have you know, I once downed a Japanese Zero with nothing but a stiff gin and a glare!”
Basil: [Grabbing the Major by the arm] “And I’ll down you with a frying pan if you don’t get out of here and let me handle this!”
[As chaos ensues, Sybil appears at the bottom of the stairs, completely unbothered.]
Sybil: “Basil, stop yelling. You’ll scare the guests.”
Basil: [Spinning around, incredulous] “Scare the guests?! There’s a Dalek taking over the hotel, Sybil!”
Sybil: [Shrugging] “Well, maybe it’ll finally get the place running properly.”
[The Dalek swivels its eyestalk towards Sybil, momentarily hesitating as if weighing its options. Sybil raises an eyebrow, completely unfazed. The scene fades with Basil ranting, Manuel cowering, and the Major attempting to recruit the Dalek to the cricket club.]
