You’re such a snob!
When Ariadne left me in mid-sentence and began throwing stuff pêle-mêle into cases and holdalls and bin liners, I asked her where it had all gone wrong, just what had I done to ruin what was, for me at least, a perfect marriage, and she paused long enough to say with unbelievable bitterness, “You’re such a snob. ”
I was knocked over. Bouleversé.
” But I have nothing against people who are of a different class, creed or race from myself, ” I protested. ” In fact – ”
” Not that sort of snob, ” she interrupted impatiently. “ You’re a language snob. That’s your problem. Our problem. Pass me that case.”
I was dumbfounded. Asombrado. Décontenancé.
” Just because I can’t stand people who say ‘ Between you and I…‘, ” I told her, ” and ‘He was laying down…’ and ‘there are less people…’ and ‘ she’s disinterested in what I say…’ and ‘ he could of went yesterday..’ and ‘in this day and age’ and begin everything they say with ‘basically’ or ‘actually’ and
But before I could say any more, she was off, taking with her my first editions of Graham Greenes novels, all my Picasso’s blue period prints and most of my CDs of Beethoven’s greatest hits.
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