The Full Particulars of “Taking Off” “Taking Off” — Prince Albert’s Inexpessibles. In the Borough Court of Requests — This Day
Had that love-sick young lady, Miss Juliet, lived in these unromantic, matter o’ fact times, when puffery and humbug lead men on to fame and fortune, instead of integrity, honesty and fair dealing,—when ignorant and worthless foreign quacks are fostered and encouraged, and native merit and native talent left to starve,—she would certainly have become duly impressed with the importance of a “name.” “The Queen’s name is a tower of strength,” and so think the enterprising commercial geniuses of the present day, inasmuch as the patronymic of our gracious Sovereign is applied to all imaginable purposes. We have Victoria washing tubs, mouse-traps, and mustard-pots, and Albert toasting-forks, shaving-brushes, and dung-barges, and last, though by no means least, “Albert inexpressibles.” However, as the young lady alluded to above says, “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
Timothy Shaw, a bandy-legged “ninth part,” with a mouth sufficiently capacious to admit the largest cabbage that ever flourished in field or garden, summoned a knowing-looking specimen of the genus homo, named Gilpin, before the commissioners, for the sum of 7s, for work and labour performed in the manufacture of a certain pair of “kicksies,” for the wear of a certain Mr Gilpin.
The defendant, an “artful card,” was described by the plaintiff as a “’buss cove out of luck,” that is, he had been in the habit of doing the amiable at the door of a Walworth omnibus, but had lost his place. The tailor, having blown his nose in that peculiar and primitive manner which gave rise to a certain riddle tending to show that the poor man often throws away what the rich man puts in his pocket, proceeded to “open his case” as follows:—“Please yer vorship, I’m a tailor by trade.” And here we must slightly digress to remark that a disciple of the bodkin and shears, upon being asked to describe himself, invariably says, “I’m a tailor by trade.” A celebrated author is of opinion, that this is to prevent his being considered a tailor by nature. “I’m a tailor by trade,” said the plaintiff, “and von’t turn my back on the best vorkman in the wicinity of Tooley street for a slap up fit in the first stile of fashion, ’cause I regularly takes a trip to the vest-end to pick ’em up. Twigged the ‘Prince’ t’other day with a new pair of trousers on,—had the cut on ’em all right in the turn of a bodkin.”
Commissioner: Really you must be a very clever person to “take off” the Prince’s inexpressibles so very expeditiously.—Plaintiff: Beg pardon, yer vorship, but I vouldn’t be guilty of any sich indelicate hact, as to “take off” anybody’s breeches.
The Commissioner finding that “snip” had the laugh on his own side, adjustedhis wig, and requested him to keep to the question.—Tailor: So I do, yer vorship; I’ll swear I never tuck not nobody’s breeches off but me own.
Commissioner: Well, what have you to say about Prince Albert? I suppose he wears his clothes like other people?—Tailor: Ah! that’s all a mistake, ’cause I’ve heerd that some knowing Jarman has hinwented new fashioned unmentionables, wot all—
Commissioner: There, there, we don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense. What have you got to say against the defendant?—Plaintiff: Vy, my lord, it’s “a plain unwarnished tale.” Master Gilpin steers himself into my shop, and ses to me, “Tim, old feller, I vant you to make me a hout-and-hout pair of kicksies, ’cause I vonts to show off a bit at Court in ’em.” In course, me lord, I vos regularly flabbergasted to hear a kiddy as vos only a “buss cove” talk in sich a way, but it soon comed out as he vos a going to lodge in Pennyvinkle-court, vich is close in our neighbourwood, me lord; and then he said he vos a goin to be married. “Poor devil,” ses I, “you’re a goin to tie a knot as I should be werry glad to untie.” As bad luck ’ud have it, my old woman heard me, and didn’t I cotch it nicely.
Commissioner: Well, did you make him any trousers after all?—Plaintiff: Oh! yes; and arter altering ’em three times the warmint would’nt pay a farden.
Commissioner: What did he complain of?—Plaintiff: ’Cause they didn’t fit tight to his legs, though I told him it warn’t the fashion.
The Commissioner told the defendant that he was ready to hear anything that he might have to say about the matter.—Defendant: I was fool enough to let this old spooney have some cloth to make a pair of trousers, and when I came to try them on, I found them so tight at the top that I couldn’t button them, and the legs were large enough to have admitted my whole body. He pretended to alter them—they were worse than before.—Plaintiff: I made them in the “Albert style,” yer vorship, so that shows the wagabone’s bad taste.—Defendant: If Prince Albert ever wore sich a pair of kicksies as them I’ll eat my hat.
Commissioner: How much are you willing to allow him for his trouble?—Defendant: Not the ghost of a mag; why should I?—ar’n’ he spoiled my breeches?—Plaintiff: Some people as is werry ugly, thinks the tailor ought to make ’em look handsome. Now, my lord, ’cause this pig-headed hobgoblin didn’t look a regular cock wenus in the breeches, he lays it all to me.
Commissioner: Now if you had contented yourself with making him look like a “buss cove,” as you describe him, instead of trying to Albertise him, you would, in all probability, have given satisfaction. You should never try to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.—Plaintiff: That’s very true. It is labour in wain to try to make a gemman out of sich a wulgar blackguard.—Defendant: Keep a civil tongue in your head, old bandy legs.—Plaintiff: Take a fit, young gallus. You arn’t no sich a cock wenus, pug-nose, arter all.
Commissioner: We cannot allow this. The defendant will pay 5s and the costs.