TIME is money, which doubtless explains why the respected Royal Bank of Scotland is reportedly cutting mobile banking services to some rural communities to 15 minutes.

Some of you with your fancy portable telephones and nostril-sized computers might say “It can all be done on the internet noo, ken?” But not everyone likes to bank that way.

Elderly or otherwise peculiar people might not be online. Small businesses dealing in cash and similarly quaint paraphernalia might need their bank to be physically rather than virtually present.

READ MORE: RBS accused of betrayal over mobile banking changes

Lonely people might enjoy the social contact. That said, banks are not social workers and have no obligation to help society. They exist to make money and, as we’ve already demonstrated conclusively, money is time. Hence the need for speed when dealing with the public.

Lonely customer: “Hullo. It’s a nice day.”

Mobile banker: “No it isn’t. Next.”

Think of the pressure in a bank queue for a 15-minute stop. Perhaps there’s a deaf old lady at the front who can’t find her purse (exasperated voices shouting: “It’s on your head!”). She’d be run out of town by desperate depositors.

What a shame. We live in such brusque times. One of the joys of looking at old photographs or films is to see people standing aboot, just watching the world go by. They are passing the time of day. Time, in other words, is where it should be: on their hands

READ MORE: RBS accused of betrayal over mobile banking changes

You don’t see that nowadays. It’s all hurry, hurry, hurry. Even Armageddon is accelerating. World leaders don’t work with slow old paper any more. It’s all instant tweets, punted out to the world before any time has been spent on that old luxury: thought.

You couldn’t imagine Sir Neville Chamberlain returning from Munich waving his iPad and saying: “I have in my hands a tweet!” But today, or very shortly, that’s how the world will end: not with a bang but a tweet.

However, ignoring humanity’s imminent demise for the moment, and returning to the more depressing subject of banking, no one except me is arguing that we should live in a time-warp. Online banking is very useful indeed.

My bank doesn’t tweet, as far as I’m aware (which is to say not very), but it does send me weekly texts warning that if I don’t bung them some money before three o’clock I’ll incur charges that exceed the amount by which I’m overdrawn.

I text back saying, “Thanks. Hope you’re well. Love you”, but like most busy online people they don’t get involved in conversations (do you ever wait ages for your mates to reply to an important email – “Pint?” – only to find that, rather than engage with you personally, they’ve been making pan announcements on Twitter? And I use the word “pan” advisedly).

READ MORE: RBS accused of betrayal over mobile banking changes

There’s a time and a place for nothing. Everybody’s at it, not just the banks. We’re all pressed for time. GPs give you 10 minutes to state your case, as if anybody these days has just one illness. “I’m right depressed, ken? Also, my newsagent says this spot could indicate non-contact syphilis. Oh, and I’ve lost an eye.”

Still, you know what they say: 10 minutes is a great healer. It’s the same in hospital: patch ’em up and ship ’em out. Time is money, beds are budgets. And you can forget about an ambulance home. “You’ll be fine. Just try not to walk on your feet. Look, here’s a leaflet. Oops, sorry, that’s a funeral service flier. Never mind. Bye-ee!”

Computers these days are always encouraging you to set up to-do lists so that you manage your time efficiently. Couples even schedule intimacy. Friend: “Coming out for a glass of wine, Cheryl?” Cheryl: “Sorry, Beryl, I’ve got cuddling from 8:10 to 8:45pm.”

Is speed-dating still a thing? How can you tell in 10 minutes if someone is your soul partner? In my experience, it takes people about five years to realise they hate you.

Pressure of time also forces people to be more decisive, which is always a mistake. Most of the world’s catastrophes have been caused by decisive people. If Hitler or Mao had spent more time dithering, terrible tragedies might have been avoided (Adolf: “I can’t decide between taking up pilates and conquering the world. Tell you what, I’ll think about it for a few decades.”).

True, there have been movements to slow things down, say watching 10-hour films of train journeys or spending at least eight minutes eating your dinner in the company of friends. But these are like yon Canute standing against yonder tide. And what do time and tide wait for, readers? Correct: no person.

Now we’re at the end of the column. How time flies.