the classical form

The Mammy told me a story today which tickled me somewhat.
In fact for a few brief shining moments it made life worth living.
She had been getting a lift to Bridge club last Wednesday morning from Mrs Fotherington Smythe.
Mrs Fotherington Smythe is VERY genteel.
As they arrived at Newbridge Parish Centre, they saw Brephni the carpark attendant standing at his post.
Brephni has the unenviable task of presiding over near chaos every week as three hundred card women assemble in a carpark that can accomodate about fifty.
Anyhoo.
"There's that little b--lix," exclaimed Mrs Fotherington Smythe as they drove in the gate.
Then she became very embarassed for having cursed in front of the Mammy.
"Oh I'm so sorry," she twittered in the most distraught tones.
"Don't be silly," shot back the Mammy. "That's one of my favourite words."
When the noble Heelers heard this anecdote tonight he was for a short time incapable of coherent speech or thought.
His handsome features corruscated into a close approximation of Papa Smurf. He was laughing so hard.
"The funniest thing about it," explained the Mammy, "is that she didn't use the classical form, b--locks. She actually said b--lix. It was just perfect."