'Yes, sir,' said Jeeves in a low, cold voice, as if he had been bitten in the leg by a personal friend. - P. G. Wodehouse

I remember when I was a kid at school having to learn a poem of sorts about a fellow named Pig-something — a sculptor he would have been, no doubt — who made a statue of a girl, and what should happen one morning but that the bally thing suddenly came to life. A pretty nasty shock for the chap, of course.

There came from without the hoof-beats of a galloping relative and Aunt Dahlia whizzed in.

There is enough sadness in life without having fellows like Gussie Fink-Nottle going about in sea boots.