You’re a Naughty Boy, Fawlty

 

You’re a Naughty Boy, Fawlty

 

…don’t do it again,

but they keep doing it again

and, oh my God, what are we going to do?

 

She’s back any minute and we’re all doomed.

You’re doomed, too,

don’t you understand?

 

Oh, pull yourself together, Fawlty,

if it’s all gone wrong

then do something violent,

we’re on the cusp, so tote your stick,

parry, hit, slap, thrust,

boot them right where it hurts,

pants down, wallop backsides,

better yet – take a wooden spoon,

beat and beat and beat until eggs crack -

he’ll just whimper there

in his far corner of the room

if history has shown us anything.

 

You'll teach them to look at me

in that way, Fawlty, such insolence

must be punished, such defiance,

met with shock, awe, epic fury

or else, you'll maintain my grim silence.

 

Now it’s time for little boy

to become a man, Fawlty,

because that’s how it is, son,

my great depression, my world war two,

my do not do with old black shoe,

my bread and water, my gruel and dripping,

my reconstituted egg,

my ten lards a-spitting.

 

Consequences born when I was young,

Fawlty, shall be visited onto you -

call it my just civic duty,

my must moment, my love actually

my tutti frutti, good booty,

aw rooty and dress me up in a business suit,

here’s a whistle, here’s a flute,

a bowler bonnet for my bloodshot face,

prepare yourself for a little taste

of that something I prefer the most -

burnt bread. You’re toast.