I am very sorry that you find my son-in-law such a pleasant chap, but the only possible reason you could have for finding him pleasant is because you don’t live with him. If you just chat with him for two or three hours, he can be really charming, I grant you. But if you were to have him under your roof for just a short while, you would see for yourself what an ordinary person he is—uncouth, coarse, bad-mannered—and how very, very difficult he is to get on with. And you should see the people he hangs about with! And how he turns up any time of day—for example, at three in the afternoon—and starts to demand to be served lunch, how he struts about as if he owns the place, as if we all adore him—and you should see the scum, the corrupt types he brings home!
“My dear son-in-law, do you know that there’s a photo of the chap you brought home yesterday in today’s newspaper…” I began, but he butted in arrogantly.
“And that’s just as it should be, my dear mother-in-law,” he joked tastelessly.
“No, it’s not as it should be, my dear son-in-law, because it says that he’s escaped from prison, having been sentenced to twenty years hard labor, and I just wonder where you picked him up, and how you had the nerve to bring him home—seeing that he strangled his mother-in-law with his bare hands!”