Jamie Tennyson: Do you know my wife, sir? Her name is Doris. She's a lovely thing, frail, beautiful, fragile. Like a cameo brooch, but her tastes run to unfragile things. Sizable baubles with sizable price tags. She shops at Tiffany's the way other women enter a supermarket. My miserable misfortune is that I happen to be very much in love with her.