If we could just take a moment out of our busy lives to send a birthday wish to one of England's finest.

Today (October 27) John Cleese is 68.

Happy Birthday John. The nation owes you a debt of gratitude.

John's comic creation, Basil Fawlty, must be the greatest Englishman never to have lived. No one was so rude, so downtrodden, so hard done by and yet such a hero to the masses.

Let me remind you of a scene or two.

(And if you've never seen Fawlty Towers I apologise. And I pity you.) Basil Fawlty is hovering around the dining room. There's an obnoxious child with his mother.

"He's very clever... rather highly strung!" she says, in the way you always hear parents defend their hateful little angels.

Basil smiles in that way of his: "Yes, yes, he should be."

It's genius, but it doesn't stop there.

The child pokes his food and moans: "That's puke, that is!"

Now Jamie Oliver would probably agree with the little brat, but Basil's made of sterner stuff and he's got the answer that everyone who has ever worked in an eating establishment wants to give.

"Well at least it's fresh puke."

Gotcha.

And Basil Fawlty has taught me a few life lessons, too.

How to deal with the never-satisfied hotel guest...

Basil: "Well, may I ask what you were expecting to see out of a Torquay hotel bedroom window? Sydney Opera House, perhaps? The Hanging Gardens of Babylon? Herds of wildebeest sweeping majestically..."

Mrs Richards: "Don't be silly! I expect to be able to see the sea."

Basil: "You can see the sea. It's over there between the land and the sky."

Mrs Richards: "I'd need a telescope to see that."

Basil: "Well, may I suggest that you consider moving to a hotel closer to the sea? Muttering to himself Or preferably in it."

As Reg in Life of Brian Mr Cleese delivers the greatest history lesson.

"All right... all right... but apart from better sanitation and medicine and education and irrigation and public health and roads and a freshwater system and baths and public order... what have the Romans ever done for us?"

Forget The Exorcist... as the Maitre d' in The Meaning of Life, John Cleese delivers the ultimate one liner setting up the most violent vomit scene cinema has ever witnessed with the offer of a "wafer thin mint".

I met John Cleese once. He's probably the most famous person I have ever met. (Well it's between him and John Major!) Cleese was introducing a charity screening of Fierce Creatures, the funny, but not hilarious, follow-up to A Fish called Wanda. He seemed a genuinely nice bloke, unhurried and ready to share a few words with his fans.

I had a copy of the complete scripts of Fawlty Towers with me to get him to sign, but ended up leaving it in the car, not wanting to appear star struck.

The Python chatted for a few moments and signed a postcard for me. I walked away one happy fan.

He's a jolly nice bloke.

I wish him Happy Birthday... and I didn't mention the war once!