My parents ran a pharmacy and Mrs Rose came in twice a week to “do” in the house: vacuuming, dusting and so forth. I was about 13 and watching the Trooping Of The Colour on TV – there wasn’t much on the TV in the daytime then – and Mrs Rose emitted the following opinion to my mother, IN MY 13-YEAR-OLD PRESENCE:
“The Queen’s always had a good bosom, hasn’t she?”
I repeat: I was 13. I swear you could hear my intestinal mental deckchairs folding themselves up and putting themselves away.
Pooteresque 