Just for laughs: Give the snob a bob

There’s very many an often that one bobs into a snob. But it’s always likely that the snob wouldn’t take notice of you. For snobbery is the incredible art of one-upmanship. Like this gentleman, who was so snobbish that he only wanted to know the people that didn’t want to know him. And this lady, here, thought she was so extra-special that she stopped seeing her family physician because she heard he was a practising doctor.

Doctors have their own brand in snobbery. Like this snotty doctor who quite arrogantly turned his poor patient away: “I’d suggest you had better go and see Dr. Low Price down the street,” he suggested, “he won’t leave you that bitter after-taste of medicine.” And this upstart went to visit a doctor for ulcers: “Doctor,” he complained “the Joneses are at it again…I’m having a hard time keeping up with them.”

But English snobbery would take an entire chapter in the art of the snub. For example, an Englishman would take no notice of the neighbourhood Joneses if they ran into each other at Piccadilly. But were it Costa del Sol or Majorca, they’d go back-slapping each other and shouting each other drinks. Englishmen are renowned for probing the cold air with their noses.

But here’s one instance, at least, of snobbery coming lobbing right from the royal house. King George V, for example, was terribly reluctant to invite Gandhi for a reception at Buckingham, apparently because the latter “wore no proper clothes.”

But not until Sir Samuel Hoare, Secretary of State for India, interjected with his own brand of snobbery. “Your majesty,” he said “he, not you, will feel the cold. So why worry?”