Mrs Biscuit stamped her not insubstantial foot (size 11 at a guess), tossed her head, sending her blonde curls bouncing in all directions and causing her wig to go aschew and shrilled, 'You zink zis is some kind of greasy spoon arrangement?? Va-t'en! Maintenant!!' With that she flounced out. Pythagoras and I looked at each other ...