As a dancer, I out-Fred the nimblest Astaire.

Everything in life that’s any fun, as somebody wisely observed, is either immoral, illegal or fattening.

Mr Howard Saxby, literary agent, was knitting a sock. He knitted a good deal, he would tell you if you asked him, to keep himself from smoking, adding that he also smoked a good deal to keep himself from knitting.

It is true of course, that I have a will of iron, but it can be switched off if the circumstances seem to demand it.

I hadn't the heart to touch my breakfast. I told Jeeves to drink it himself.

A lesser moustache, under the impact of that quick, agonised expulsion of breath, would have worked loose at the roots.

Into the face of the young man who sat on the terrace of the Hotel Magnifique at Cannes there had crept a look of furtive shame, the shifty, hangdog look which announces that an Englishman is about to talk French.