“Mr. Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives the Third! “Mr. Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives the Third!”
“What is it, woman?”
“It’s your son, “Mr. Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives the Third!”
“What, Robert Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives the Fourth?”
“No. Your other son!”
“What. Anthony Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives the Unnumbered?”
“Yes – the very same.”
“What has happened to my other son, Anthony Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives the Unnumbered?”
“He’s sprained his wrist signing a cheque.”
“Ah, the old Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives curse has struck again.”