Proof that well-respected authors can be just as silly as Esmondes and Wannabes

I was telling Katie yesterday how much I love Dorothy Sayers. I love the way she writes dialogue - completely unrealistic, but completely revealing about her characters.

I read the following passage this morning and found it inspiring because it's just as silly as anything any Esmonde/Wannabe ever wrote:

Lord Peter hung up, whistling cheerfully, and called for Bunter.

'My lord?'

'What is the proper suit to put on, Bunter, when one is an expectant father?'

'I regret, my lord, to have seen no recent fashions in paternity wear. I should say, my lord, whichever suit your lordship fancies will induce a calm and cheerful frame of mind in the lady.'

'Unfortunately I don't know the lady. She is, in fact, only the figment of an over-teeming brain. But I think the garments should express bright hope, self-congratulation, and a tinge of tender anxiety.'

'A newly married situation, my lord, I take it. Then I would suggest the lounge suit in pale grey - the willow-pussy cloth, my lord - with a dull amethyst tie and socks and a soft hat. I would not recommend a bowler, my lord. The anxiety expressed in a bowler hat would be rather of a financial kind.'

'No doubt you are right, Bunter. And I will wear those gloves that got so unfortunately soiled yesterday at Charing Cross. I am too agitated to worry about a clean pair.'

'Very good, my lord.'

'No stick, perhaps.'

'Subject to your lordship's better judgement, I should suggest that a stick may be suitably handled to express emotion.'

'You are always right, Bunter. Call me a taxi, and tell the man to drive to Tooting.'

EDIT: to spell Dorothy Sayers' name correctly