I remember the days when either a letterpress printer or binder would stride up to me and ask the naive apprentice comp. “Could you set a few lines for us mate.”
I do because I was that naive apprentice who was “A Nice Lad who is as thick as two short planks.”
But my pommy tradesman in charge was quicker than most and I guess after some years down the track “a little bit bent.”
And, he never told me he got paid for it!
He would get me to design and set the type on the Ludlow typecaster by pissing in my pocket by saying “you are a master of design Rod”.
And I would do it, time and time again. I just didn’t think that my tradesman would lie to me.
There was one printer in particular who would wander into the comp. room speak to my boss and then I’d be setting wedding invites for the next hour or so.
He started up a small backyard print shop specialising in wedding stationery using hot metal supplied by me (unlawfully but innocently) and that operation turned into a fairly large printing office out on the Main North Eastern Road.