... or lack of wit.
I have always suffered from hay fever and the accompanying intrmittent rsging nosebleeds. As was not uncommon, in one rugby lesson I got a knee in the face and promptly poured with blood again.
Gilbert came to attend and said "You've always beena bleeder, haven't you?" I laughed and Gilbert looked like thunder and said "What are you laughung at lad?"
I suspect no joke had been intended.
One very wet day we were down in the soggy morass of the bottom rugby field at Oakbank which had been carved out of the great St Johns cricket pitch - (about the only reasonably flat ground in the West Bradford league). Gilbert pulled up the scrum to admonish us "You should be _proud_ to be refereed by the president of the Yorkshire Rugby Union".
Bons mots seems particularly appropriate remembering Harry Blinks's usual response to less than perfect, early attempts to get one's tongue round impossibilities such as 'pupitre: stern look on his face, speaking in low, menacing tones, the barely audible words coming from the far corner of his mouth: "what language are we supposed to be speaking?"
One also remembers Wilbur's "parse it, laddie, parse it" and "why didn't you do your prep?"; Nev's "close all books! Number one...mm mm", when still half way down the corridor; Spike's "Am I boring you old chap?"; Prut's great confidence booster: "You're all goin ter fail!" and 'Daddy' Hayes' mantra "A pint of water weighs a pound and a quarter" (which one wrote, laboriously and pointlessly, after school, usually 500 times).