So you have come to learn of my trade have you? Aces! Ne'er a time too late to take up a vocation I always say! Come we shan't dally, to the workshopeteria! Make haste,boy! This is 1851! Technology has never been more pertinent, and we must match with equal tenacity!
Now, as you well know, there isn't a Clothier in all of New Hawkenburry that is as reputable as I am, so pay attention to my words, old sport! I shan't be repeating myself.
For the purpose of our demonstration I have enlisted the aid of my sister. She was reluctant at first but then I administered a beating to which she responded indubitably. Oho! So now we have our model. Oh don't you worry, she'll be allowed back in the kitchen in no time old horse!
Dah, what a meloncholic figure she strikes. Such a triteful thing would make it tremendously burdensome in finding a willing suitor. Why, she wouldn't even make five shillings at the local Dollymop house looking like that....
But it isn't her fault you see, it is that ghastly oversized shirt she is wearing. That is what we will be tailoring today.
We shall improve upon the neckhole, the upper back, the sides and overall toutness of the shirt. First, we measure the excess on each side. Add an inch and a half to your final measurement.
Now she may uncouple the shirt from her body and continue her domestic duties in the kitchen.
Write this down my good man, we shall now gather our materials!
-a pair of sturdy scissors
-a long ruler
-a pair of protective goggles
-strong rubber gloves
-steam powered screwdriver
-a bulb of onion
Now then, we work! Put on your goggles and gloves and place the onion upright within your workspace. It helps keep the wraiths away. Wot? Garlic, you say? Poppycock! I don't believe in this new-age vampire business.Oh no, I'm talking about the real spectres of evil incarnate, the demon spawns who roam the house whispering threats of dragging you to hell for letting them die. Keep your onion close, old chap!
Make straight cuts all the way on the sides of the shirt, so that it's only left connected at the neck. Use your steam powered screwdriver for the stubborn parts.
My my, how youthful I look in these old snappings. Do not be alarmed as you feel your heterosexuality crumbling in the face of my unbridled masculinity. Tis but a normal occurrence. Ah adolescence...
I recall when we were 10, such obnoxious rascals we were. We stoawayed on a channel steamer once, in the barrels housing the charcoal no less. Guffaw! We didn't even realise when ol Phillip's barrel was hauled and tossed into the incinerator, Phillip and all. Imagine the shipmate's befuddlement, when the coal seemed to shriek in agony as Phillip's lungs were scorched and his skin set aflame. Ah, good ol Phillip, powered the channel steamer for a good mile that old chap, he had plenty of meat that one.
By the by, would you be a good lad and fetch me another onion? I think I'm starting to hear the wailing through the cracks of the wall...
We're almost there old beast! Cut squares into the side of the shirt and we're going to tie them back up proportionately to our model's body. For this we would require my sister again.
Sister! Would you mind stepping back into the room. Wot? Not now? And why not? Homework?! The absurdity, hahaha! What a racket, the woman fancies herself an educationalist. Come, come, enough comedy my dear, put this shirt on before the sun sets on your youth.
Now we tie the square ends together to form diamond shaped patterns. Your model must not be fidgety! Stuff a fruit in her mouth and she'll be still. Proceed. Cut of the excess cloth.
Yes you are correct, the style is rather exotic for our time. Very observant of you, old beef. I tip my monocle to you sir!
You see...it started 16 years ago. I was working for the East India Company, and was stationed in the caramel country of India. Beautiful country let me tell you, except for the Thuggee, scoundrels they be. Our group of merry men were descended upon by the Thuggee once, and we were forced to perform sacrificial rituals to the Goddess Kali, lest we be sacrificed ourselves. Oh sometimes I can hear the still beating hearts I held in my hands...so many! so many hearts I tore out...
Thank the heavens we were saved by this mysterious man with a fedora and whip, accompanied by this quaint little Chinese boy. I tell you they will make a motion picture of his escapades some day. A true hero I say!
But I digress. During my period of captivity I noticed the womenfolk wearing robes with diamond shaped holes cut out the side. A rather bold fashion but pleasant to the eyes nonetheless.
Did you get me that onion you chollop? good. Give it here.
We've got the shape and the pattern. The laymen would stop here. But by George I'm no layman! Our English blood may crave disappointment but not I! Onwards!
Further cut out an inch around the neck and stretch out the fabric. Now a more challenging step. Fold the shirt in half and cut thin parallel lines where the upper back should be. You are to weave the newly cut rectangles. Stop sweating Pillock! It isn't as hard as it looks!
Observe the finished product below. It is tighter around the waist and arms. The larger hole at the neck accentuates one's feminity.
The weaving at the back can be foregone but I exhibited it here nonetheless for your perusal.
And here is another shirt whose neckline I've improved upon. Furthermore, the cloth that was cut from the neck can be used as a headband! Never waste a fiddle I always say!
And here is a snapping of me pointing at the Fungi that has been growing at the edge of my bed.
And that my boy, is how we tailor a shirt. Now leave me! My old bones need rest. No no leave the onion. The Indian spirits may have gone but ol Phillip likes to linger around. He was always the lonely sort of chap...
Toodle pip, old goon!