My nephew recalling a pub fracas:

“Yeah, so he had like five treble gins. He started a fight with the manager. He even smashed a glass on the floor.”

Me: “Five trebles? Was that all?”

“Yeah, but Christopher. He isn’t like you. You’re… you’re a…”

“I’m a… I’m a… what?”

“Well, you’re like a… professional gin drinker. This guy isn’t like you.”

Good save, young man. Good save.