It is no use telling me there are bad aunts and good aunts. At the core, they are all alike. Sooner or later… — P.G. Wodehouse

...his head emerged cautiously, like that of a snail taking a look around after a thunderstorm.

Aunt Agatha, who eats broken bottles and wears barbed wire next to the skin.

[of Spode] He was, as I had already been able to perceive, a breath-taking cove. About seven feet in height, and swathed in a plaid ulster which made him look about six feet across, he caught the eye and arrested it. It was as if Nature had intended to make a gorilla and had changed its mind at the last moment.