‘What’s your name, lad?’
The dwarf swallowed. This was clearly the bit he’d been dreading.
‘Littlebottom, sir.’
Vimes didn’t even look up.
‘Ah, yes. It says here. That means you’re from the Uberwald mountain area, yes?’
‘Why... yes, sir,’ said Littlebottom, mildly surprised. Humans generally couldn’t distinguish between dwarf clans.
‘Our Constable Angua comes from there,’ said Vimes. ‘Now... it says here your first name is... can’t read Fred’s handwriting... er...’
There was nothing for it. ‘Cheery, sir,’ said Cheery Littlebottom.
‘Cheery, eh? Good to see the old naming traditions kept up. Cheery Littlebottom. Fine.’
<...>
‘Er... I did tell you my name, didn’t I, sir?’
‘Yes. Got it down here,’ said Vimes. ‘Cheery Littlebottom. Yes?’
‘Er... yes. That’s right. Well, thank you, sir.’
Vimes listened to them go down the passage. Then he carefully shut the door and put his coat over his head so that no one would hear him laughing.
‘Cheery Littlebottom!’

Terry Pratchett, «Feet of Clay»