I met him. Basil Fawlty. Or at least his prototype. Oddly enough, in Australia, and in NSW even.
My SWMBO and I were in Oz visiting her rellies. (Her mom was from Bundaburg in Queensland and married a US serviceman at the end of WWII. I, in turn took the SWMBO from the US to Canada 46 years ago). We were trying to determine where SWMBO's great grandfather began his adventures as a cattleman in Australia, and in that pursuit found ourselves looking for overnight accommodation somewhere north of Tamworth.
We encountered a suitable looking motel with a restaurant, and turned in. The proprietor, who was hunched over his counter in a somewhat despondent manner, brightened up considerably as we entered, the word customers! doubtless flashing in his mind.
The empty restaurant, his immediate interest and the fact that we were in a hostelry (let alone the fact that he was tall and slender), made me immediately think of the aforementioned Basil Fawlty.
I told him that we would like to spend the night in his establishment and take our meals there too, which, if memory serves me right, had him rubbing his hands together in sort of a hand washing sort of a motion. I said that this plan of action was contingent upon being able to connect to the internet in our room - (buisness). This was about 12 or so years ago when wi fi was pretty much non existent, it all had to be done by dial up. At the time at least there was more than one cable end that connected to the telephone line, but we only had one, so the outlet in the room had to fit that one.
I am sure that there will be no problem with that sir and we proceeded to the room. Well the cable wouldn't work. When I went back to the desk and reported this fact, he really started to resemble Mr. Fawlty. He began to bluster and led me around to several other rooms in a very distraught and Fawltyesk manner taking long steps and flailing his arms around. On our fruitless tour, he commented on the poor economy and how customers were fewer and fewer, attempting, it seemed, to make our stay at his motel the key to his survival.
I began glancing around, expecting Manuel or possibly Sybil to put in an appearance at any moment!
Our business was (and is) very dependent upon being in touch with our customers via e mail daily, so in spite of his impending doom, I was forced to regretfully inform him that we would have to seek accommodation elsewhere.
This seemed to have the effect of removing all of the bones in his body, and he just deflated! There he was hunched over his counter again as we drove off.
I almost said, Goodbye Mr. Fawlty!