From The Sublime to the Gor'blimey

I was in the pub earlier, soothing away the tensions occasioned by a needlessly obstructive barrister who added to the stress of a disorganised day.
Peace came dropping slow, sip by sip. Gentle banter with good friends started to ease away stress.

Then disaster. An attractive lady, dressed in virginal summer white: - chic, soignée, and very decorative, came to the bar.

"Can I get a large white Rioja?" enquired la belle dame sans articulacy.

Crash! My mood evaporated in a moment.

Can I get? Can I sodding well get?

Bah! and twice bah!

A plague upon you, pretty lady. You should know better. And now I am fed up.

And it's your fault.