"You ought to be at the Foreign Office."
"But the ripping thing is, Uncle John, that two of the Guatemalas are fudges."
"Such a doubtful coup would not debar you from a diplomatic career."
"And I say, what is the Foreign Office? We've got a French chap in my class."
"You ask for an explanation of the Foreign Office. That, my boy, might puzzle the omniscience of the Creator."
"I say, I don't twig very well what you're talking about."
"The attributes of the Foreign Office, my boy, are rigidity where there should be suppleness, weakness where there should be firmness, and for intelligence the substitution of hair brushed back from the forehead."
"I say, you're ragging me, aren't you? No, really, what is the Foreign Office?"
"It is the ultimate preserve of a privileged imbecility."
Bertram surrendered, and John congratulated himself upon the possession of a nephew whose perseverance and curiosity had been sapped by a scholastic education.