A young Englishman marries a glamorous American. When he brings her home to meet the parents, she arrives like a blast from the future - blowing their entrenched British stuffiness out the window.

Mrs. Whittaker: Smile, Marion.
Marion Whittaker: I don't feel like smiling.
Mr. Whittaker: You're English dear, fake it.
Larita Whittaker: The pleasure is all mine.
Mrs. Whittaker: Oh, you're American.
Mrs. Whittaker: well, coming from a country no older than the chair you are sitting in, seems a very practical solution!
Mrs. Whittaker: You're smiling, Jim.
Mr. Whittaker: Oh God forbid. The wind might change.
Phillip Hurst: Game one of the Antarctic open, Mr Whitaker to South.
[John serves straight into Hilda's backside]
Hilda Whittaker: Oooow!
Phillip Hurst: Hole in one!
John Whittaker: Deuce
Phillip Hurst: [continues to comment as they play] I see your pair of deuces, and I raise you a tenner... The titanic could've hit that... Sarah, you're an embarrassment to the Hurst family name, I'm going to have you killed.
Larita Whittaker: Gobble, gobble!
Mrs. Whittaker: Smile, Marion.
Marion Whittaker: I don't feel like smiling.
Mrs. Whittaker: What am I supposed to do with this bauble of a woman?
Mr. Whittaker: Hang her?

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