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Basil Fawlty as metaphor

The other night, I was noodling around Netflix and found an old favorite – Fawlty Towers. I used to enjoy this insane comedy, with the brilliant John Cleese and an equally talented supporting cast of loonies. I was hoping for a good idiot laugh.

Innkeeper Basil Fawlty predictably worked himself into a foaming-at-the-mouth frenzy, based on a series of misinformation (accurate information was never a priority for Basil). It involved an illicit woman in a man’s room, with Basil systematically spying on and assaulting every woman at the Inn. At the end, the guests voted, unanimously expressing their displeasure with Fawlty Towers.

Perpetual victim Basil stalked out, muttering insults at the guests and his long-suffering wife.

I don’t know if he came back, I had to quit watching. It was too much like Washington, and I’ve had to quit watching that, too.


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