I don’t suppose she would recognize a deep, beautiful thought if you handed it to her on a skewer with tartare sauce. - P. G. Wodehouse

Directing an austere look at Tubby’s receding back, she spoke in a cold crisp voice which sounded in the drowsy stillness like ice tinkling in a pitcher.

Aunt Agatha, who eats broken bottles and wears barbed wire next to the skin.

He uttered a coarse expression which I wouldn't have thought he would have known. It just shows that you can bury yourself in the country and still somehow acquire a vocabulary. No doubt one picks up things from the neighbours — the vicar, the local doctor, the man who brings the milk, and so on.