Quite a few years ago, Scrobs Senior, in his engineering job in hop-growing, was visiting a German city with great brewing credentials. He flew to somewhere there, probably Munich, with the MD, to assess some business deal or other - I don't really know what it was about, but he often went round Yerrrup to find better ways to grow hops for Guinness.
The MD was a retired soldier (JB) with impeccable credentials, and although I'd like to mention his name - which is chronicled in several books and stories, I feel that I won't this time, but will just mention that despite his illuminating and courageous career, he finished up with a wooden leg from his wartime injuries. He and Dad were very good friends as well.
When they were boarding the aeroplane, Dad was following his boss up the steps, where JB had to 'dot and carry' with a barely recognisable, but stumbling gait which he hated, but it was a necessary manner he employed to move forward. They reached the plane's aisle, and in the melee of air travelling, JB stumbled and gently pushed into the person in front of him. That particular person turned, and instead of wondering, and understanding why he'd been interrupted in his search for his seat, chose to shriek and swear at JB in uncouth terms.
Dad immediately surged forward and belted him, and had to be restrained by JB. "Leave him Phil, just let him go", was the restrained gentlemanly response from JB.
So Mr E. Burden, your copybook was well blotted that day, and I'll never forget what a little git you were then, and probably are still.