Throughout the 1930s, 40s and 50s, writers of hard boiled fiction hunted for that perfect riposte. That reply, that one sentence that would leave the other guy writhing on the floor, covered with ignominy. In my (not so humble) opinion, Raymond Chandler came closest. The perfect response to a wisecrack from some cleverdick is, actually, no reply. That is right, no response, a silence that shouts "Is this the best you could do, you poor pea-brained pansy?". His lead, Philip Marlowe demonstrates this beautifully.

Nothing of note today, so far anyway. Did come across a statement, alleged to BCCI that "The cricket team does not represent India, but a private club: the BCCI". Nerve? Stupidity or our cupidity?