manner of his, but instead would be assaulting us with crude references to our

vices and failings, calling us drunks and all manner of such names, in his

attempt to fulfil the role expected of him by his customers. And I recall also

some years ago, Mr Rayne, who travelled to America as valet to Sir Reginald

Mauvis, remarking that a taxi driver in New York regularly addressed his fare in

a manner which if repeated in London would end in some sort of fracas, if not in

the fellow being frogmarched to the nearest police station.

 

It is quite possible, then, that my employer fully expects me to respond to his

bantering in a like manner, and considers my failure to do so a form of

negligence.

 

This is, as I say, a matter which has given me much concern. But I must say this

business of bantering is not a duty I feel I can ever discharge with enthusiasm.

It is all very well, in these changing times, to adapt one's work to take in

duties not traditionally within one's realm; but bantering is of another

dimension altogether.

 

For one thing, how would one know for sure that at any given moment a response

of the bantering sort is truly what is expected? One need hardly dwell on the

catastrophic possibility of uttering a bantering remark only to discover it

wholly inappropriate.

 

I did though on one occasion not long ago, pluck up the courage to attempt the

required sort of reply. I was serving Mr Farraday morning coffee in the