The tendency to throw bons mots around in an extreme stiff class divided society, appears like  a protection shield of “cool attitude” hiding the own non involvement into the mater. A form of distancing were the protagonist hides behind a leather fauteuil of masculine “I can handle it, haha!” to avoid the introspective couch. It is a form of mutual shared depressive hysteria where nobody expect a bettering, but everybody throws confetti’s. A vaudeville of provincial actors running in&out, avoiding the pot of roses  taboo topic in the middle of the scene by kicking with salads at each other. The important matter to consider is the elegance of the fly of the salad as reflect of the smart ass capacity of the actor, not the picky roses, or hell, the emotions involved in that process of skilled avoidance. An  empire hierarchy got build on this salad trick, and a basket of rotting salad gets still sold as city wonder. Are they not funny (class dividing  humour included)?

Not really, mostly!