In which there is guaranteed Harris Tweed
Harris Tweed always sounds to me as if it's the name of a character in a 1930s country house novel. I'd beg for commentfic but I don't have much reading time at the moment.
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chronographia will be pleased to know that I found some tweed but, alas, it was my grandfather's greatcoat and extremely moth-eaten... LITERALLY!!1!! I scanned the label, from the internal breast pocket, for your viewing pleasure. It has typography! And Hebridean crofters! And virginwools! IT'S LIKE THE WICKER MAN! The label stitching is rather wonky though. I blame Hepworths.
ETA: Harris Tweed, the nefarious pipe-smoking supervillain, is beginning to take shape. His lair is located in the ex-volcano Arthur's Seat under Edinburgh, his henchmen are called The Crofters, and he's a sometime employer of Mr Bach Vu (tag). His pipe exudes either poison or knockout gas while the mothballs are radio-controlled and fly out of Mr Tweed's pockets to assail his enemies. He's the arch nemesis of Velociman. I bet the Imperialist swine superhero is heroically trying to keep the Empire safe and at one while Harris Tweed, aka "Hebridean Harry", is plotting Scottish independence so he can make himself King and then unleash his army of robot haggis on the world!
