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“So while I’m neck-deep in shipping notices, stock inventories, mailing lists, and artistic temperaments”—Mum adjusted the mirror to perfect her lipstick—“you get to swan around Cheltenham all morning like Lord Muck! All right for some, eh?”

Now she yells at me, Look at Lord Muck standing there.

If Aymer chanced to pass near them he was saluted with ironical bows and cheers, and hats were obsequiously doffed to “My Lord Muck,” or “My Lord Would-Be.”

"Some girls think if they get a bit of a swell he's something; but I wouldn't care if a man were the Prince of Wales and Lord Muck in one, if he couldn't do things without muddling, I'd throw water on him."

But that's the way with all these fellers in a Government job; they think they're Lord Muck, and too good to speak to the folk that's keeping them there, and only for which they wouldn't be there at all.