You've just reminded me.
At university I had an on off boyfriend who was ver ver posh. I'm not. We had fun, and he was a good guy at heart but he could never quite fathom that I managed to get by in life with my appalling comprehensive education. And being from Essex. He never patronised me but was always mildly amused by me.
One summer we travelled back to London by train, joined by one of his ver ver posh friends - who was just a total caricature of the worst kind of public schoolboy. Braying, patronising, misogynistic. Imagine a mini Boris.
I'm not sure why we had a box of trivial pursuit but we did and we played it.
It was evenly matched much to his friend's confusion. I was the first one to get to the final question. They conferred for ages getting very excited and giggling, she'll never get this...
Partial quote from a poem.
Before they'd got half way I said, Kipling, If
I then recited it. Because let's face it it's hardly obscure.
His face. His poor little illusion shattered face. The most beautiful irony is that is the kind of poem he'd have been bought up on as a fine upstanding pupil of one of the most famous public schools in the country.
He could not, literally could not, comprehend how a state educated girl from an Essex not not only Jae heard of this poem of male hubris- but know it by heart.
He spent the next hour alternating between a state of disbelief and trying to get me to sleep with him.
Reader, I did not.