Scene: the wake after the service at the crematorium.
Giles, a spruce ninety year old – blazer with a folded handkerchief in the top pocket, pressed slacks, polished shoes – makes his way over to a small group over by the buffet table. After some handshakes, introductions and how-are-yous, he turns to Simon, a man he hasn’t met before.
Giles: So! I hear you’ve done very well for yourself.
Simon: How do you mean?
Giles: I couldn’t help but overhear. When we were all waiting in the … ah…. waiting room. How you’re almost a barrister.
Simon: A barrister?
Giles: Very well done. That’s quite something.
Simon: (suddenly realising what’s happened). No, no! I managed to fix the coffee machine. I said I was almost a barista.
Giles: Jolly good show.