A blast from the past . . :
BLUEBOTTLE: What time is it, Eccles?
ECCLES: Um, just a minute. I got it written down here on a piece of paper. A nice man wrote the time down for me this morning.
BLUEBOTTLE: Eug! Then why do you carry it around with you, Eccles?
ECCLES: Well, um, if anyone asks me the time, I can show it to them.
BLUEBOTTLE: Wait a minute Eccles, my good man.
ECCLES: What is it, fellow?
BLUEBOTTLE: It’s written on this piece of paper, what is eight o’clock, is writted.
ECCLES: I know that, my good fellow – that’s right, when I asked the fellow to write it down, it as eight o’clock.
BLUEBOTTLE: Well, then, supposing when somebody asks you the time it isn’t eight o’clock?
ECCLES: Well, then, I don’t show it to them.
BLUEBOTTLE: I wish I could afford a piece of paper with the time written on. Here, Eccles – let me hold that piece of paper to my ear, would you? . . . Here, this piece of paper ain’t going.
ECCLES: What? I’ve been sold a forgery!
BLUEBOTTLE: No wonder it’s stopped at eight o’clock. You should get one of them thing my grandad’s got. His firm gave it to him when he retired. It’s one of them things what it is that wakes you up at eight o’clock, boils the kettle, and pours a cup of tea.
ECCLES: Oh, yeah – what’s it called?
BLUEBOTTLE: My grandma.
ECCLES: Ah. Here, wait a minute – how does she know when it’s eight oclock?
BLUEBOTTLE: She’s got it written down on a piece of paper.