An elderly couple was watching a Discovery Channel special about a West African bush tribe whose men all had penises 24 inches long.
When the black male reaches a certain age, a string is tied around his **** and on the other end is a weight. After a while, the weight stretches the **** to 24 inches.
Later that evening as the husband was getting out of the shower, his wife looked at him and said, "How about we try the Africa String-and-Weight procedure?" The husband agreed and they tied a string and a weight to his ****.
A few days later, the wife asked the husband, "How is our little Tribal experiment coming along?"
Well, it looks like we're about half way there," he replied.
No call for it, Major. None of our guests speak English. Apart from you of course.
They're all Albanian.
Albanian?
That's right.
What are they doing in Torquay?
Most of them landed on the beach at Paignton over the weekend.
Has there been an invasion?
I wouldn't use that kind of language if I were you Major. Walls have ears.
What kind of language?
Invasion.
Sorry, old boy, don't follow.
We mustn't call it an invasion. Officially, these are all vulnerable women and young children fleeing war.
So they're Ukranian?
No Major, Albanian.
I didn't know there was a war in Albania.
There isn't Major. Just don't mention it.
Don't mention what?
The non-existent war in Albania. I mentioned it once but I think I got away with it.
I see. So where are all the women and young children?
There aren't any Major. But we're not allowed to mention that either.
So all those men kicking a football around in the car park are Albanian?
Precisely. 'Unaccompanied minors' is, I believe, the correct expression.
But they all look about 25. Most of them have got beards.
Ours not to reason why, Major.
How did they end up at Fawlty Towers?
All the other hotels in Britain are full. We're the Last Chance Saloon. Home Office called on Friday to say we're being requisitioned until further notice.
Can they do that?
Apparently so. I had no say in the matter. Sybil took the call and all she could see were pound signs. We're getting £200 a night per head, which more than outweighs the money we'd have got from the holiday bookings, the wedding receptions and the annual Rotary Club lunch we've had to cancel.
Where have they all come from?
France.
I thought you said they were Albanian.
They are, Major. Do keep up. But they've come here from France. By all accounts the Home Office has done some deal with the French to stop them coming over from Calais to Dover. So the people smugglers have switched the route and they now come from Cherbourg to Devon.
How many of them?
Forty-odd thousand at last count.
So it is an invasion?
I've warned you already, Major. We'll have the hate crime squad round unless you mind your language.
That's what I thought.
What?
It's like living in an episode of Mind Your Language. Can't understand a dashed word they're saying.
Now you know how I've felt for the past 40 years. The Germans were bad enough guests. And those awful Americans. But these Albanians take the ruddy biscuit. They complain about everything, especially the food. Terry rustled them up a special Waldorf salad last night, but they wouldn't touch it. One even had the nerve to complain about the view from his room.
Really?
Yes, really. I said: 'What do you expect to see out of a Torquay hotel bedroom window? The White Cliffs of bleedin' Dover?'
Vermin.
Steady on Major. You can't call them that. They're asylum seekers, fleeing persecution.
Not the Albanians Fawlty. Manuel's pet rat's back. Look, over there.
I thought he'd taken it with him.
With him where Fawlty?
Barcelona. He went home after Brexit. Can't get staff for love nor money these days, not now everyone thinks they're entitled to work from home and all the Europeans have buggered off. Come to think of it, that's not a bad idea.
What's not?
Buggering off. Emigrating. There's half a dozen dinghies been abandoned on the beach. I might just take my chances. Care to join me Major? You're going to have to vacate your room immediately anyway to make way for another busload of migrants. I hear Albania's nice this time of year...
Comments
When the black male reaches a certain age, a string is tied around his **** and on the other end is a weight. After a while, the weight stretches the **** to 24 inches.
Later that evening as the husband was getting out of the shower, his wife looked at him and said, "How about we try the Africa String-and-Weight procedure?" The husband agreed and they tied a string and a weight to his ****.
A few days later, the wife asked the husband, "How is our little Tribal experiment coming along?"
Well, it looks like we're about half way there," he replied.
Wow, you mean it's grown to 12 inches?"
"No, it's turned black."
They thought it was too risky to let him anywhere near Business or Economy
Basil & the Major discuss the Albanian invasion.
Morning Major.
Morning, Fawlty. Papers here yet?
Just the Tirana Times, Major.
What, no Daily Mail?
No call for it, Major. None of our guests speak English. Apart from you of course.
They're all Albanian.
Albanian?
That's right.
What are they doing in Torquay?
Most of them landed on the beach at Paignton over the weekend.
Has there been an invasion?
I wouldn't use that kind of language if I were you Major. Walls have ears.
What kind of language?
Invasion.
Sorry, old boy, don't follow.
We mustn't call it an invasion. Officially, these are all vulnerable women and young children fleeing war.
So they're Ukranian?
No Major, Albanian.
I didn't know there was a war in Albania.
There isn't Major. Just don't mention it.
Don't mention what?
The non-existent war in Albania. I mentioned it once but I think I got away with it.
I see. So where are all the women and young children?
There aren't any Major. But we're not allowed to mention that either.
So all those men kicking a football around in the car park are Albanian?
Precisely. 'Unaccompanied minors' is, I believe, the correct expression.
But they all look about 25. Most of them have got beards.
Ours not to reason why, Major.
How did they end up at Fawlty Towers?
All the other hotels in Britain are full. We're the Last Chance Saloon. Home Office called on Friday to say we're being requisitioned until further notice.
Can they do that?
Apparently so. I had no say in the matter. Sybil took the call and all she could see were pound signs. We're getting £200 a night per head, which more than outweighs the money we'd have got from the holiday bookings, the wedding receptions and the annual Rotary Club lunch we've had to cancel.
Where have they all come from?
France.
I thought you said they were Albanian.
They are, Major. Do keep up. But they've come here from France. By all accounts the Home Office has done some deal with the French to stop them coming over from Calais to Dover. So the people smugglers have switched the route and they now come from Cherbourg to Devon.
How many of them?
Forty-odd thousand at last count.
So it is an invasion?
I've warned you already, Major. We'll have the hate crime squad round unless you mind your language.
That's what I thought.
What?
It's like living in an episode of Mind Your Language. Can't understand a dashed word they're saying.
Now you know how I've felt for the past 40 years. The Germans were bad enough guests. And those awful Americans. But these Albanians take the ruddy biscuit. They complain about everything, especially the food. Terry rustled them up a special Waldorf salad last night, but they wouldn't touch it. One even had the nerve to complain about the view from his room.
Really?
Yes, really. I said: 'What do you expect to see out of a Torquay hotel bedroom window? The White Cliffs of bleedin' Dover?'
Vermin.
Steady on Major. You can't call them that. They're asylum seekers, fleeing persecution.
Not the Albanians Fawlty. Manuel's pet rat's back. Look, over there.
I thought he'd taken it with him.
With him where Fawlty?
Barcelona. He went home after Brexit. Can't get staff for love nor money these days, not now everyone thinks they're entitled to work from home and all the Europeans have buggered off. Come to think of it, that's not a bad idea.
What's not?
Buggering off. Emigrating. There's half a dozen dinghies been abandoned on the beach. I might just take my chances. Care to join me Major? You're going to have to vacate your room immediately anyway to make way for another busload of migrants. I hear Albania's nice this time of year...