How sad that John Cleese is planning a sequel to all-time comedy classic Fawlty Towers. Can’t we be left with the memory of a great series that never went beyond its sell-by date. Leave ’em wanting more was the perfect message from the maniacal hotelier Basil.
It’s reputed that the new series will be filmed in the Caribbean. But not on the BBC. The Beeb is far too politically sensitive these days, says Cleese. He can’t be doing it for the money, not at 83 and worth £8 million. It seems it’s more of a vehicle to boost the career of actress daughter Camilla.
I once stayed in a hotel — it was in Cumbria but no names, no pack drill — that was far worse than Fawlty Towers. The house was having some work done so me and my then partner took off for the weekend to escape the builders.
The proprietor warned on arrival that doors closed at 9pm and he did not welcome the smell of alcohol on his premises. During the night I thought I heard noises outside the room. When I investigated it was the owner sitting on the stairs listening in for any of what he called “hanky panky”.
At breakfast he insisted on prayers and a homily. There were two other guests. The wife whispered to me, “he’s locked the gates, do you think we are prisoners of a madman?”
It was Fawlty Towers plus. Thank heaven we weren’t Germans. The only thing our host didn’t mention was the war.
Terrible scenes of devastation
It’s not easy to comprehend from such a distance the absolute horror of the earthquake in Turkey and Syria, an event which commanded the TV news bulletins throughout last week. It is only thanks to those brave, resourceful and indefatigable BBC correspondents that we are given first-hand and immediate coverage of these tragic events.
Sometimes it’s hard to relate fully to such disasters because we seem to be living in a world full of wars and disasters at present. But this is a tragedy on an unprecedented scale.
What drove it home to me was something I spotted in the background as one of the Beeb’s faithful female reporters was being filmed against a terrifying background of fallen buildings and piles of immovable rubble.
It was the fallen floodlight pylons at the town’s football ground. A town probably the size of Carlisle, now completely destroyed.
We see these news items and quickly put them to one side as we get on with our daily lives. Maybe we donate a tenner to one of the relief funds.
But it struck me forcibly. What if it was Carlisle, or Penrith and Keswick. Unimaginable maybe. But comparing the size of a Turkish town, now effectively gone, with something local to us drives home the appalling nature of this event.
There was actually an earthquake registered at 4.7 on the Richter scale in the Carlisle area on Boxing Day back in 1979. No substantial damage was reported.
But I do remember, as many people in the Lake District will, the shock we received in December 2010, a tremor lasting 20 seconds measured at 3.6. The Guardian report said it “caused alarm but no serious damage.”
It certainly moved me. I had just gone to bed and was reading a book when I heard a distinct rumble and experienced a dizzying spell when the room seemed to go round. The British Geological Society later pinpointed Coniston as the centre of this quake.
I don’t know if they made up the quote to lighten the story, but I do recall the Kendal man who told The Sun — it had to be that newspaper — that his girlfriend said it was the first time the earth had moved for her.
Geologists reckon we’ve had at least half a dozen similar level tremors in recent years. We had one just five years ago, centred on the village of Mosser, which was felt in Kendal, Cockermouth and Keswick.
Compared to the terrible consequences of the Turkish earthquake, ours might create a few lines for the local papers and a witty headline for the national press, but they are really no great shakes.
One town on television had lost its Brunton Park equivalent, but in human terms it lost incalculably more.
Can Rod Stewart fix our potholes too?
When Sir Rod Stewart got frustrated with lack of action over potholes in his local road — they were damaging his Ferrari — he got his mates round to help him fill them in.
Cue council officials with a warning that people should not take matters into their own hands in case someone had an accident, blamed the repairs and, in this age of litigation, consulted their learned friends about suing.
Pity because, with councils bound to be strapped for cash, a bit of community do it yourself would not come amiss.
We did a report on potholes in last week’s paper. John Judson’s damaged roadside at Lazonby, the patchwork quilt in Penrith and the way the weather has created a perfect storm of holes all over the county.
Where’s Sir Rod when you need him?
