‘Suppose your Aunt Dahlia read in the paper one morning that you were going to be shot at sunrise.’ ‘I couldn’t be, I’m never up so early.’ - P. G. Wodehouse

As a rule, you see, I'm not lugged into Family Rows. On the occasions when Aunt is calling Aunt like mastodons bellowing across primeval swamps and Uncle James's letter about Cousin Mabel's peculiar behaviour is being shot round the family circle ('Please read this carefully and send it on Jane') the clan has a tendency to ignore me. It's one of the advantages I get from being a bachelor - and, according to my nearest and dearest, practically a half-witted bachelor at that.

Aunt Agatha is like an elephant—not so much to look at, for in appearance she resembles more a well-bred vulture, but because she never forgets.

"What I want to know is what a fellow does when he plays golf. Tell me in as few words as you can just what it's all about." --"You hit a ball with a stick until it falls into a hole."