Dry wit

One evening years ago, I was a passenger on the open top deck of a bateau mouche in Paris. The boat went under a bridge, and someone above us threw a bucketful of water. I was soaked.

The man in the seat in front of me – not a drop on him – turned round and, with a voice like Bones McCoy, spoke words I’ll never forget: “Could’ve been worse! Could’ve been urine!”

If I had such a thing as a coat of arms, I think I’d pick those words for the motto.