Tart meaning slut is not in common use in the US, but we know what you mean when you say it. "Tarted up", in the sense of making something look better than it is, is still in occasional use. Tarty isn't used at all, as far as I know.
to mjd, jim and all old antimooners...
And it would end up sounding like "tardy", anyway. Which would probably just confuse people.
Sybil and Basil's Fawlty Towers Hotel (or Watery Fowls Hotel according to yet another one of Manuel's erratic interpretations on the exterior hotel sign) was located in Torquay, and Torquay is located on Torbay, and Torbay is located on the south coast of England, and the south coast of England consists of cliffs and promontaries and headlands for much of its length all the way from Cornwall in the south west to Kent in the south east.
For example:
Golden Cap cliffs, Dorset, England:
http://www.imagesofdorset.org.uk/Dorset/098/06.htm
The Seven Sisters Cliffs, including Beachy Head - the one of the UK's top suicide spots - East Sussex, England:
http://www.visitsussex.org/site/explore-sussex/seven-sisters-p274481
The White Cliffs of Dover - including the Shakespeare Cliff, Kent, England - the real Gateway to England from the Continent:
http://www.dover-kent.co.uk/places/white_cliffs.htm
Uriel describes Sibyl's often fraught and difficult relationship with Basil as one in which "she knows which of his buttons to press - like any good wife". Presumbly that's a signal to send him off on another one of his misanthropic acts of mania and paranoia. Wow! If that's how good wives behave then little wonder the UK suffers from a domestic violence problem.
Torquay is set very close to some pretty impressive cliffs of its own - such as those overlooking nearby Babbacombe Bay, and much earer to home for S & B:
Babbacombe Bay, Torquay, Devon, England
http://www.devonguide.com/photos/img614.htm
If Basil gets pushed that bit too far over the edge then he may well think of returning the compliment to her. He could suggest a walk with her right up along the cliff edge, where a footpath actually runs quite perilously close to the cliff edge with a drop of about 50m or so down to the waves crashing on the rocks below. He could distract her attention for a moment as he slowly guides her away from the pathway and closer to the edge of the clifftop. He can then hope for a sudden gust of wind to do the rest. No more nagging and harrassment and button pushing from a "good wife!"
For example:
Golden Cap cliffs, Dorset, England:
http://www.imagesofdorset.org.uk/Dorset/098/06.htm
The Seven Sisters Cliffs, including Beachy Head - the one of the UK's top suicide spots - East Sussex, England:
http://www.visitsussex.org/site/explore-sussex/seven-sisters-p274481
The White Cliffs of Dover - including the Shakespeare Cliff, Kent, England - the real Gateway to England from the Continent:
http://www.dover-kent.co.uk/places/white_cliffs.htm
Uriel describes Sibyl's often fraught and difficult relationship with Basil as one in which "she knows which of his buttons to press - like any good wife". Presumbly that's a signal to send him off on another one of his misanthropic acts of mania and paranoia. Wow! If that's how good wives behave then little wonder the UK suffers from a domestic violence problem.
Torquay is set very close to some pretty impressive cliffs of its own - such as those overlooking nearby Babbacombe Bay, and much earer to home for S & B:
Babbacombe Bay, Torquay, Devon, England
http://www.devonguide.com/photos/img614.htm
If Basil gets pushed that bit too far over the edge then he may well think of returning the compliment to her. He could suggest a walk with her right up along the cliff edge, where a footpath actually runs quite perilously close to the cliff edge with a drop of about 50m or so down to the waves crashing on the rocks below. He could distract her attention for a moment as he slowly guides her away from the pathway and closer to the edge of the clifftop. He can then hope for a sudden gust of wind to do the rest. No more nagging and harrassment and button pushing from a "good wife!"
Aren't you glad I'm not married?;P Imagine the damage I could wreak on some poor, unsuspecting schlub.....
What we lack in the way of tall cliffs to dash our loved ones onto the rocks from, we more than make up with with our miles and miles of empty desert and the occasional deep lake. Drive through some of those lonely stretches of highway and you can definitely begin to see the possibilities -- civilization ends at the shoulder of the road, in some of those places. And when you are driving from Las Cruces (the crosses), which is named for the gravesites of a party of Mexican settlers massacred by Apaches, up through the Jornado del Muerto (Dead Man's Journey), which is a sixty-mile stretch of country where the Rio Grande disappears underground and there is no surface water, up to Albuquerque (named for a Spanish duke) and Santa Fe (holy faith, which must have also been blind and stubborn when the Spanish made it the capital of Nuevo Mexico in 1610), and you see the statues of those first Spanish settlers and imagine these strange men and women toiling through hundreds of miles of hot, dusty, empty land in their Spanish Armada-era armor, on foot and on horseback, thousands and thousands of miles from home, only 9 years after their historic defeat at the hands of the English, you gotta wonder how many centuries of old bones lie out in the wasteland, long forgotten and undiscovered.
What we lack in the way of tall cliffs to dash our loved ones onto the rocks from, we more than make up with with our miles and miles of empty desert and the occasional deep lake. Drive through some of those lonely stretches of highway and you can definitely begin to see the possibilities -- civilization ends at the shoulder of the road, in some of those places. And when you are driving from Las Cruces (the crosses), which is named for the gravesites of a party of Mexican settlers massacred by Apaches, up through the Jornado del Muerto (Dead Man's Journey), which is a sixty-mile stretch of country where the Rio Grande disappears underground and there is no surface water, up to Albuquerque (named for a Spanish duke) and Santa Fe (holy faith, which must have also been blind and stubborn when the Spanish made it the capital of Nuevo Mexico in 1610), and you see the statues of those first Spanish settlers and imagine these strange men and women toiling through hundreds of miles of hot, dusty, empty land in their Spanish Armada-era armor, on foot and on horseback, thousands and thousands of miles from home, only 9 years after their historic defeat at the hands of the English, you gotta wonder how many centuries of old bones lie out in the wasteland, long forgotten and undiscovered.