Combers are supposed to be very serious, solid people, but for unconscious humour there isn't a family in England or even in the States to compare with them.

Our lunch just now; if you could put it into a satirical comedy called The Aristocracy it would make the fortune of any theatre." A dawning smile began to break through Michael's tragedy face.
"I suppose it was rather funny," he said.

"But really I'm wretched about it, Aunt Barbara." "My dear, what is there to be wretched about?
You might have been wretched if you had found you couldn't stand up to your father, but I gather, though I know nothing directly, that you did.

At least, your mother has said to me three times, twice on the way to church and once coming back: 'Michael has vexed his father very much.' And the offertory plate, my dear, and, as I was saying, lunch! I am in disgrace too, because I said perfectly plainly yesterday that I was on your side; and there we were at lunch, with your father apparently unable to see either you or me, and unconscious of our presence.

Fancy pretending not to see me! You can't help seeing me, a large, bright object like me! And what will happen next?
That's what tickles me to death, as they say on my side of the Atlantic.