Basil Fawlty was a monster, albeit\na very human and recognisable one, a masterful comic creation who somehow\nmanaged to engage the viewer\u2019s sympathies in his daily travails. He was a man\ntemperamentally ill-suited to running a hotel and dealing with the general\npublic, and that, after all, is the situation from which the fundamental comedy\narises. Originally screened over forty years ago, it is now something of a\nperiod piece, but there are still Fawltys out there, albeit often of quite a\ndifferent stamp.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Running a bed and breakfast or a\nsmall hotel must be difficult at times, and it takes a certain type of person\nto make such a venture a success. Quite often though, the \u2018wrong\u2019 sort of\nperson deludes themselves into thinking that they would make an excellent job\nof such an enterprise, and, so I\u2019ve discovered, they can be wrong in so many\ndifferent ways. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
If you have often stayed in this\ntype of establishment, you will undoubtedly have encountered proprietors who\nhave managed to strike just the right balance between formality and\nfriendliness, and others who have not. Sometimes you might experience a frosty reception\nfrom someone who views you with an innate distrust, and treats you as if you\u2019re\nan unwelcome interloper, a cumbersome burden upon their time. At others, you\nmight find you meet someone who appears to be all smiles and warmth, but who\nthen proceeds to overstep the boundary and ask inappropriate and intrusive\nquestions. I can recall one occasion where the host, whilst serving breakfast\nat a communal table, asked an apparently innocuous question of all waiting to\nbe fed: \u2018What do you do?\u2019 Each person in turn gave their answer, and he smiled\nand nodded in acknowledgement and approval, until the time came for me to\nprovide my reply. \u2018And what do you do?\u2019 he asked, somewhat regally.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Um, I\u2019ve been made redundant.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cue killing silence. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
To be honest, this was no more\nthan an innocent blunder on his part, but it felt humiliating to have to say\nthis in front of a roomful of well-paid professionals. This, however, was as\nnothing compared to what I have experienced elsewhere, for there exists, I have\ndiscovered, another type of individual attracted to running a B&B: the\nproselytiser. I would sooner experience the rudeness and petty snobbery of a\nBasil Fawlty, than the unconscionable intrusiveness of the host or hostess\nintent upon imposing their morals, values and behaviours upon their guests. Don\u2019t\nget me wrong, for I have no problem with people running their businesses in\nline with their beliefs, as there will doubtless be others who share their\noutlook and would love to stay in such a place. However, if I\u2019ve booked\nsomewhere that states that it provides a full English breakfast, I do not then\nwish to be informed in a disdainful tone every time that the proprietor serves\nup bacon, sausage and egg, that they are vegan. I do not wish the said\nproprietor to make huffy remarks when asked about good local pubs \u2013 \u2018I don\u2019t\ndrink myself, so I couldn\u2019t say,\u2019 condescending smile. When enquiring about\nlocal cafes and restaurants, I do not wish to be referred exclusively to\nvegetarian outlets. Beatrice Clemens. Such experiences are what gave birth to\nBeatrice Clemens, the insufferably overbearing fictional B&B hostess from\nthe Dorset village of Cerne Abbas. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The thing about Beatrice is that\nshe thinks she\u2019s doing good. She sees herself as a philanthropist and a\nprogressive, a warm-hearted pillar of a community that needs bringing \u2018up-to-date\u2019,\nand it\u2019s with this mission in mind that she\u2019s set herself up as a B&B \u2018host\u2019\n(not a \u2018hostess\u2019 you understand, as that would be \u2018sexist\u2019). Her business is a\nfront operation for her busybodyism, and she is, as is so often the case, an\noutrageous hypocrite. Beatrice Clemens is a Basil Fawlty for the age of \u2018social\njustice\u2019 and \u2018equality\u2019, combining characteristics not only of the hapless\nBasil, but also those of Dickens\u2019s Mrs Jellyby, the telescopic philanthropist\nalways so concerned with the plight of those in faraway places, whilst\nneglecting the welfare of those closer to home. Her purblind social attitudes prompt\nher to behave just as rudely to her customers as Basil\u2019s snobbery did. She is\nout there. You may have met her. Poor you!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now, if such a person can irritate the hell out of me, what might the guardian spirit of a particular place, a genius loci, think of such a person intent upon transforming their oasis of tranquillity into something fundamentally alien to its essence? Thus emerged the scenario for The Rude Woman of Cerne<\/a><\/em>, a satirical ghost story set beneath the gaze of the priapic club-wielding giant. When I wrote it, the name of Beatrice suggested itself as an appropriate moniker, and only just this morning I discovered something not a little uncanny in this respect: John Cleese based the character of Basil Fawlty on the Torquay hotelier Donald Sinclair, whose wife\u2019s name happened to be . . . Beatrice. The Rude Woman of Cerne<\/a><\/em>, should you dare meet her, is available from Amazon in Kindle, and in paperback as part of the collection Uncanny Tales from the English Shires<\/a><\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Alas, the Cerne Giant was rather overgrown when I visited so\nI didn\u2019t manage to get a good picture of him. As it was also raining heavily\nthat day in the village of Cerne Abbas, I have instead provided a picture of\nthat other Dorset touristic honeypot, the village of Corfe with its ruined castle.<\/p>\nShare this:<\/h3>