Long before Bergerac, milk and dungeons, Jersey was famous for its knitting.

Until the interweb came along people over yer hed to make their own clothes or walk around stark bollard naked, save for the odd leaf or dead animal or whatever.

Then some bright sod desarded to thread a few lengths of string together and hey presto we’re all wearing Jerseys, or whatever they was called before we started exporting them to the rest of the world.

Famous for it’s soft feel and tough, stretchable weave, Jersey fabric quickly caught on and now any Bob, Mick or Larry can be caught poncin’ rahnd in a ‘Jersey.’

Not that yer average foreigner would have a clue whar it’s called thet, marnd; we’re not even on most meps and when you do get someone to acknowledge that there’s a place called Jersey they usually think it’s that horrible dumpy place what the Yanks nicked off us.

Either thet or they just think that we’re some karnd of set built especially for that Bergerac programme or worse still some karnd of floatin’ marina for businessmen to store their yachts in.

We’re all rich over yer, raht? Oh yeah, we’re all flippin’ millionaires, thet’s rart … all drinkin’ milk and ridin’ aranhd on cows to the Bergerac theme music watchin’ old football videos of Matt Le Tissier (who’s from GUERSNEY you idiots, which is much, much crepper) whilst helping the rest of the world dodge tax in our odd South African accents in our big tax-free yachts … yeah that’s us, thet’s Jersey, blah blah blah now do us a favour and just b*gger off, will you? THE LOT OF YOU.
Anyways, where was ah. Yup, knitting … we used to be good at thet.