Cardiology outpatients, some time in 1974. The consultant, now long gone to his reward, is an extremely eminent Harley Street cardiologist, pinstripe, bow tie, the works. The patient is a young lad with a heart condition. He is accompanied by his father, an artisan with a pronounced sarf Lunnun accent.
Consultant: Now, tell me my good man, what’s the young chappie’s name?
Father: Jensen, boss.
Consultant: Jensen, eh. That’s a most unusual name. How did you come by it?
Father: Well, yer see guv, we like cars, and a Jensen’s a fantastic machine, and it seemed like a good name to me and the missus.
Consultant: Oh, I see. That’s rather good. Pause. I must say, it’s as well you don’t like Fords. Haw, haw, haw!
Maybe you had to be there.