The source of a phrase I apply to myself fairly often, from Legion by William Peter Blatty. Yes, it’s kinda long, but it takes the time to set up the punchline:
“Attend me, Ryan,” said Kinderman. “Notice young Atkins. You are standing in the presence of majesty, a giant. No, really. A man should get his just recognition. Would you like to know the highlight of Atkins’ career with us? Certainly. We shouldn’t cover stars with an okra basket. Last week, for the nineteenth—”
“Twentieth,” Atkins corrected him, holding up his pen for emphasis.
“For the twentieth time, he brings in Mishkin, the notorious evildoer. His crime? His unvarying M.O.? He breaks into apartments and moves all the furniture around. He redecorates.” Kinderman shifted his remarks to Atkins. “This time we send him to Psycho, I swear it.”
“How does Homicide fit into this?” asked Ryan.
Atkins turned to him, expressionless. “Mishkin leaves messages threatening death if he ever comes back and finds something out of place.”
Ryan blinked.
“Heroic work, Atkins. Homeric,” said Kinderman. “Ryan, have you anything to tell me?”
“Not yet.”
“Then why are you wasting my time?”
“I just wondered what was new.”
“It’s very cold out. Also, the sun came up this morning. Have you any more questions of the oracle, Ryan? Several kings from the East have been waiting their turn.”
Ryan looked disgusted and left the room. Kinderman followed him with his gaze and when the door had closed he looked at Atkins. “He bought the whole thing about Mishkin.”
Atkins nodded. The detective shook his head. “The man hears no music,” he said.
“He tries, sir.”
“Thank you, Mother Teresa.”