Mr. Hutchinson: There is a documentary on BBC2 this evening about Squawking Bird, the leader of the Blackfoot Indians in the late 1860s. Now this starts at 8.45 and goes on for approximately three-quarters of an hour.
Basil: I'm sorry, are you talking to me?
Mr. Hutchinson: Indeed I am, yes. Now is it possible for me to reserve the BBC2 channel for the duration of this televisual feast?
Basil: Why don't you talk properly?
Mr. Hutchinson: I beg your pardon?
Basil: No it isn't.
Mr. Hutchinson: What?
Basil: It is not possible to reserve the BBC2 channel from the commencement of this televisual feast until the moment of the termination of its ending, thank you so much.

Mrs Richards: Hello! [Polly comes out of the office] Girl. There's no paper in my room. Why don't you check these things? That's what you're being paid for, isn't it?
Polly: Well we don't put it in the rooms
Mrs Richards: What?
Polly: We keep it in the lounge
Mrs Richards: [shocked] In the Lounge?!
Polly: I'll get you some. Do you want plain ones, or ones with our address on it?
Mrs Richards: [still shocked] Address on it?!
Polly: How many sheets? [Mrs Richards looks appalled] Well how many are you going to use?
Mrs Richards: [banging the desk bell] Manager!
Polly: Just enough for one? Tell me!
Mrs Richards: Manager! Manager!

Mrs Richards: [Leaving the room] I can get down stairs by myself.
Basil: "Down" the stairs? Oh well, don't stop when you get to the basement! Keep straight on! Give my regards to the Earth's core!
Sybil: [to Mrs Richards] Are you sure you can manage?
Basil: If you give us any more trouble I shall visit you in the small hours and put a bat up your nightdress!

Mrs Richards: [To Polly, after looking everywhere for her glasses] Are you blind? They were on my head! Didn't you see them?
Polly: Yes!
Mrs Richards: Didn't God give you eyes?
Polly: Yes, but I don't use them, because it wears the batteries out!

Mrs. Richards: Now listen to me. I booked a room with a bath. When I book a room with a bath I expect to get a bath.
Basil: (confused) You've got a bath.
Mrs. Richards: I'm not paying Seven Pounds Twenty Pence per night plus VAT for a room without a bath.
Basil: [goes into the bathroom] There is your bath.
Mrs. Richards: You call that a bath? It's not big enough to drown a mouse. It's disgraceful...
Basil: [quietly] I wish you were a mouse, I'd show you...
Mrs. Richards: And another thing. I booked a room with a view.
Basil: [quietly to Manuel] Deaf, mad and blind. [Goes to the window] Yes, this is the view as I remember it, yes, yes, this is it.
Mrs. Richards: When I pay for a room with a view, I expect something more interesting than that.
Basil: 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.
Mrs. Richards: I'd need a telescope to see that.
Basil: Well, then, may I suggest you move to a hotel nearer the sea? [mutters] Or preferably in it.
Mrs Richards: Now listen to me. I am not satisfied. However, I have decided to stay. But I shall expect a reduction.
Basil: Why, because Krakatoa's not erupting at the moment?
Mrs Richards: Because the room is cold, the bath is too small, the view is invisible and the radio doesn't work.
Basil: No, the radio works. [mutters] You don't.
Mrs Richards: What?
Basil: I'll see if I can fix it [mutters] you scabby old bat. (walks over to the radio and turns it up loud, then turns it off)

Mrs. Richards: What is going on here? I ask him for my room, and he tells me the manager's a "Mr Watt," aged forty.
Manuel: No, no. Fawlty.
Mrs. Richards: Faulty? What's wrong with him?
Polly: It's all right, Mrs. Richards. He's from Barcelona.
Mrs. Richards: The manager's from Barcelona?
Manuel: No, no. He's from, er, Swanage.

Psychiatrist: There's enough material there for an entire conference.

Sister: Yes, yes. We must have our little jokes, mustn't we?
Basil: Yes, we must, mustn't we? My god, you're ugly aren't you? Mind boggling!
Sister: I'll get the Doctor.
Basil: You need a plastic surgeon dear, not a doctor.
Series 2

Sybil: (Seeing Basil walking down the road with a large garden gnome) Where are you going Basil?
Basil: Just going to see O'Reilly dear. Then I might go to Canada.

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: If you wasn't listening to that racket all morning, you'd have them both done by now.
Basil: Racket? That's Braahms! Braahms Third Racket! All morning? I had two bars.

Sybil: O'Reilly, I have seen more intelligent creatures than you lying on their backs at the bottoms of ponds. I have seen better organized creatures than you running round farmyards with their heads cut off. Now take your belongings and get out. I never want to see you or any of your men in my hotel again.

Sybil: You're only single once.
Basil: Twice can be arranged!

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."

Terry: Look: all kitchens are filthy, Mr. Fawlty. In fact, the better the kitchen, the filthier it is. Have you ever read George Orwell's experiences at Maxim's in Paris?
Basil: No. Do you have a copy? I'll read it out in court!