A glorious Autumn day in Sydney’s Blue Mountains:
Sitting in the Garage Café at lunchtime, we experienced the sort of idiosyncratic Basil Fawltyesque service that only comes natural in la-di-da Leura. Our appalling waiter suffered the classic foot-in-mouth disease throughout the service, culminating in the following charming exchange:
Garçon (and I use the term advisedly): “Did you enjoy your lunch?”
J: “Why yes, it was delicious!”
G: “Well, I hope it was lunch, and not just a snack.”
Needless to say, my lunch guests and I were completely nonplussed. What on earth did Basil Fawlty mean? After an intense discussion between us, we decided that he was just one of those people who attempt wit, and fail … miserably. Ergo, according to A, he was a half-wit. Case closed.