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 gone wrong

then do something violent,

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

parry, hit, slap, thrust,

get them right where it hurts,

pants down, wallop backsides,

better yet – take a wooden spoon

and beat and beat until eggs crack -

he’ll just stand there

in the far corner of the room

if history has shown us anything.

 

I’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, I’ll maintain my grim silence.

 

Now it’s time for little boy

to become a man,

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, gruel and dripping,

my reconstituted egg,

my lard that’s spitting.

 

Consequences born when I was young

shall be visited onto you -

call it my just civic duty,

my must moment, my love, actually

my tutti frutti, good booty,

aw rooty, dress me up in a business suit,

here’s a whistle, here’s a flute,

bowler bonnet my bloodshot face,

prepare yourself for a little taste

of that something I prefer the most -

burnt bread. You’re toast.