I was relaxing child-free in a coffee shop (not Costa btw [wunk]) this afternoon, when a Performance Parent Extraordinaire came in.
She proceeded to let the girl behind the till know by wily means that her precious DD had made it to a Grammar School.
This school is known locally by a very short snappy name, but this mom instisted on giving it it's full title of SelectiveGirlsGrammarInTheTown12MilesAwayWithAWankyBrownUniform each time she mentioned it.
She came and sat at the empty table next to mine and started to talk in a loud voice, about how she's have to get a new bag for PFB (I'm surmising) so that she can be organised when she goes to SelectiveGirlsGrammarInTheTown12MilesAwayWithAWankyBrownUniform in September. All with a sly glance to see if Chaos has looked up from the newspaper with her jaw dropped in awe. 
After mentioning SelectiveGirlsGrammarInTheTown12MilesAwayWithAWankyBrownUniform two more times in order to impress the impassive me, I think she gave up and started talking about their tedious plans for the weekend.
An older couple came in and settled down near Attention Seeker.
Guess what?
Yep, "Darling PFB, which language do you think you'll be picked to do when you arrive at SelectiveGirlsGrammarInTheTown12MilesAwayWithAWankyBrownUniform?"
And, "Have you put the date in your diary for the Welcome meeting at SelectiveGirlsGrammarInTheTown12MilesAwayWithAWankyBrownUniform?"
It was actually getting quite amusing by this point.
I was everso impressed by her tenacity.
Full Marks.