One announces that his private physician has put him on a diet, and warned him that the next dropcake he eats would kill him.

[…] you must know that when the second iron is thrown overboard, it thenceforth becomes a dangling, sharp-edged terror, skittishly curvetting about both boat and whale, entangling the lines, or cutting them, and making a prodigious sensation in all directions.

Intruders there were in Harley Street, of whom it was not aware; but Mr and Mrs Merdle it delighted to honour. Society was aware of Mr and Mrs Merdle. Society had said ‘Let us license them; let us know them.’

[E]ven more outrageously, a person heavily into trains is not a trainspotter but a ferro-equinologist (an iron-horsist, no less).