The other day a tailor tells a story of a customer in the old days who would come into the shop and make his way scornfully along the length of a table where perhaps twenty bolts of different cloth were lying. ‘Good Gad! What d’ye call this?…wouldn’t be seen dead in it…and this…I don’t know where you get such cloth…’pon my word, I don’t…beastly stuff…filthy design…and look at this…just look at it…Good, Gad!’
Reaching the end of the table, he would turn around.
‘You can make me one suit of each of them.’