It’s clock shop time…

But first…
Dulltown, Europe: Today’s existential angst is centred around the sound of the word chasuble…

‘Hello, Smegson Electricals and Pancakes… how may I help you?’
‘Did you say “pancakes”?’
‘Did I?’
‘Sorry Madam, I should have said “Electricals and Gerunds”, how may I be of assistance to you this morning?’
‘Er… well, it’s about this clock that I bought from you on…’
‘Hang on a minute, I’m getting counter feet, I should really sit down – now, where’s my stool?…’
‘Yes, do go on, is it an electric one?’
‘Well, it’s got a battery in it.’
‘A battery? A battery of cells?’
‘I suppose so, but the thing is that…’
‘This “battery” –  does it have “one-and-a-half volts” written on the side of it?’
‘Er, hang on… Yes it does. I don’t like this clock, I find that I don’t have a good time with it.’
‘You see Madam, that strictly speaking…’
‘Yes, strictly speaking, one-and-a-half volts would be a single cell, and not a battery at all – as I said earlier, a “battery” is a series of cells, you see… like a battery of guns…’
‘Ah, that’s the trouble!’
‘What is?’
‘Earlier! With this clock it always seems earlier than it really is.’
‘Good!… I feel more relaxed sitting down – we do have stools, but the bosses think that it looks more professional if we greet the customers in a…’
‘Anyway, I thought that I might return the item.’
‘I don’t think so Madam.’
‘Does it tick alright?’
‘What do you mean by “alright”?’
‘Is it an audible tick?’
‘Oh, as audible as anything.’
‘Well, not anything everything of course – not as audible as, say, a mysterious sigh in the crypt of an ancient church.’
‘No, I suppose not – perhaps as audible as the click of a pistol being cocked under a good quality duvet?’
‘Yes, something like that…’
‘Well, there’s obviously nothing up with it, and you’d better… I presume it keeps good time?’
‘Ah, there’s the nub!’
‘The rub?’
‘No, the nub, I’ve not had a good time since I’ve had it. My husbands say that it “runs on bobbins”…’
‘I’m  afraid I don’t know what that means Madam.’
‘No, I don’t know either… What’s the time, now, in your shop?’
‘Er, tell me what your clock says first.’
‘It says “one-oh one-oh” by the big hand.’
‘Ah, that’s quite correct, as I said, there’s nothing amiss with it.’
‘Are you an horologist?’
An horologist?’
‘Only part-time.’
‘Which part?’
‘Ah, now there’s the rub…’
‘The nub?’
‘No, just listen to those precious seconds ticking by. What do you think of the idea of time’s marrow?’
‘No, time’s inner core, it’s made up of pure space you know, spacetime…’
‘That will be it, this clock’s space is no good – it’s not been right since I bought the bloody thing from you.’
‘Perhaps it’s lonely – it needs to see another friendly pale round face – are there any other timepieces nearby?’
‘Well, there’s Great Aunt Dolores’ grandfather clock, oak case, silver grain, but it doesn’t go.’
‘There you are Madam, problem solved!’
‘How so?’
‘Dry time! Stored up musty static time over all those years, it’s upsetting the ambient equilibrium.’
‘Is that like feng shui… and ley lines?’
‘Exactly! You need to introduce some moist time into your room.’
‘Do I have to have the old clock repaired then?’
‘Not at all, just stand a cup of water in the bottom of its case, just under the pendulum, you could put a sprig of thyme in it if you like.’
‘Of course… what else?…’

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
This entry was posted in brain, conversation, drama, existentialism, humour, physics, science, surrealism, words and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to It’s clock shop time…

  1. “…..a mysterious sigh in the crypt of an ancient church.’” where the heck do you come up with these things?? 😀 Lovely surreal post yet again.

  2. Tempus fugit, doesn’t it?

  3. Do you know, I just really like this blog a great deal. Let’s have more!

  4. shammy says:

    a part-time horologist???? groan…..

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