It's like saying that Dickens put in all this crude, comic stuff to please the groundlings. I don't think he did.

‘Bishops, flood-lit Highlanders dancing reels under the palm-trees, Matrons, Maids, Saris, Sarongs, Black faces, White uniforms, and the hero of the party, Prince Mohammed Aly, in spongebag pants, red Tarboosh and carnation, and an emerald in his tie the size of a golf ball,’ observed Coats.

No one would ever think you were born in Paris. True dat.

I send you back the two last sheets, because you bid me. I reserve my nibblings and minutiae for another day.