[a tea salesman comes into Granville's shop, dressed in a pith helmet, a short khaki tunic and shorts, as if he is in the desert; Granville hardly gives him a glance]  Granville : Warming up out there, is it? Salesman : You're a deadpan lot around here. What does a bloke have to do to get a reaction? Granville : You must be wondering what's the point in being dressed like a pillock if nobody cares. Salesman : "Wear this," the company said. "This'll get you noticed. This'll help you sell." I look like a muffin, don't I?

[the previous day, Granville sold some anchovy paste to Wet Eric as an aphrodisiac; now Wet Eric comes limping up the street in considerable pain]  Wet Eric : You ought to be locked up, selling diabolical stuff like that. I've never had an easy moment since I put it on. Talk about scratching! I'm going to be red raw. Granville : It was for *internal* use, you barmpot! When I said "Spread it on thinly", I meant on a piece of toast. Wet Eric : Now he tells me!