So Mr. Free Market is wending his way home, after a week’s hard work exploiting the masses and keeping the working classes underfoot, when he pulls his Porsche 911 Cabrio up to a red traffic light which happens to be next to a bus stop.
Two yoofs are slouching there waiting for their bus, and in the time-honored spirit of British class-consciousness and wealth envy, start chanting “Wanker! Toff wanker!” at him.
Whereupon Mr. FM enquires of them, in his best upper-class accent:
“So… how’s that bus stop thing working out for you, then?”
Slack-jawed astonishment from his audience, followed by anger; but before they can do anything untoward, the light changes. Exit Mr. FM in a roar of Porsche goodness, leaving frustrated rage in his wake.