A Job For Jack And Pinchie

This job was calling for a specialist. It was calling for me. Me – that’s Jack, Jack the Ripper. My friends simply call me Jack.

I’m the thin guy in the blue coat there on the left. And yes, I’m as sharp as my looks.


A couple of days ago I got a call from one of my clients. ‘I’ve got a job. I need a pro. I need the best. I need you.’

According to my client, her name was Fiona. She appeared on the doorstep of the UFO Garage the other day with an unsuccessful patchwork top. To save it from the bin, it had to be done. It had to be ripped apart. Or to be ‘unsewed’, as some say.

Hi! Name’s Pinchie.

I gave my friend Pinchie a call. He’s the one who does the cleaning up. Then we went to work.

Seems Fiona knew what she was doing – double stitches at the corners, a couple of backstitches to secure the ends. Minute stitches. Not a seam longer than 3 or 4 centimeters.


We did the job, Pinchie and me. Like we always do. We’re pros. We’re the best.


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