Connie Booth credited as playing...
Polly Sherman
- Mrs. Richards: [to Polly, acidly] Isn't there anyone else who could help me? Really! This is the most appalling service I've ever...
- Polly: What a good idea. Manuel? Could you lend Mrs. Richards your assistance in connection with her reservation?
- [Manuel looks around, confused]
- Mrs. Richards: [to Manuel] Now, I reserved a very quiet room with a bath and a sea view. I specifically asked for a sea view in my written confirmation, so please make sure I have it.
- Manuel: Que?
- Mrs. Richards: What?
- Manuel: Que?
- Mrs. Richards: Kay?
- Manuel: Si.
- Mrs. Richards: Sea?
- [Manuel nods]
- Mrs. Richards: Kay, sea? Kay sea? What are you trying to say?
- Manuel: No. No, no, no. Que... what.
- Mrs. Richards: Kay Watt?
- Manuel: Si, que: what.
- Mrs. Richards: C.K. Watt?
- Manuel: Yes!
- Mrs. Richards: Who is C. K. Watt?
- Manuel: Que?
- Mrs. Richards: Is he the manager, Mr. Watt?
- Manuel: Oh, manajer!
- Mrs. Richards: He is?
- Manuel: Ah, Mister Fawlty!
- Mrs. Richards: What?
- Manuel: Fawlty!
- Mrs. Richards: [Scolding Polly for not revealing where her eyeglasses were located] Are you blind? They were on my head all the whole time, didn't you see?
- Polly: Yes!
- Mrs. Richards: Didn't God give you eyes?
- Polly: Yes, but I don't use 'em 'cause it wears the batteries out.
- [Mrs. Richards comes downstairs for lavatory paper; Polly thinks she wants writing paper]
- Mrs. Richards: 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: We don't put it in the rooms.
- Mrs. Richards: What?
- Polly: Well, we keep it in the lounge.
- Mrs. Richards: [aghast] In the lounge?
- Polly: I'll get you some. Do you want plain ones or ones with our address on it?
- Mrs. Richards: Address on it?
- Polly: How many sheets? Well, how many are you going to use?
- Mrs. Richards: Manager!
- Mrs. Richards: What are you talking about, you silly little man?
- Mrs. Richards: [to Polly] What is going on here? I ask him for my room and he tells me the manager is a Mr. Watt, aged forty.
- Manuel: No, no, no, no. FAWLTY!
- Mrs. Richards: He's 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, no, he's from-a Swanage.
- Polly: And you're in 22.
- Mrs. Richards: What?
- Polly: You're in Room 22. Manuel, take these cases up to 22, will you?
- Sybil Fawlty: [Basil won some money on a horse and he doesn't want Sybil to know because she's very against gambling so Polly is pretending it's her winnings] Polly?
- Polly: Yes, Mrs Fawlty?
- Sybil Fawlty: What was the name of the horse?
- Polly: The name?
- [Basil, overhearing this quietly comes running into the dining-room]
- Polly: I've gone blank.
- [Basil frantically tries miming the answer by flapping his arms]
- Polly: Birdbrain.
- [Basil nods no]
- Polly: No, no. That came in third. Uh...
- [Basil points at Sybil]
- Polly: Fishwife.
- Sybil Fawlty: What?
- Polly: [Basil tries pointing at his zipper] Fly! Fly!
- [Basil points at Sybil again]
- Polly: Flying tart!
- [another wrong answer]
- Polly: No, no. It got off to a flying start and it's name... was dragonfly.
- [Basil hightails it]