The man had finally got around to taking all the broken umbrellas to the repair shop. Next morning on his way to his office (as routinely he used "The Tube," or what we on this side of the Big Pond call the "subway."), when he got up to leave the car, he absentmindedly laid hold of the umbrella belonging to the woman beside him, for he was in the habit of carrying one.
"Stop! Thief!", the woman called, grabbing her umbrella and making further highly embarrassing protestations.
That same day, the fellow stopped at the repairer's shop, and received all eight of his umbrellas duly restored. As he entered the tube, with the unwrapped umbrellas tucked under his arm, he was horrified to behold, glaring at him, the lady of his morning's misadventure.
Her voice came to him charged with a withering scorn:
"Had a good day, didn't you ..."