I don’t have the time to make my own gluten free, seaweed and alpine herb bread. I’m not that bothered about reconditioning early 20th century chandeliers or sconces either. I don’t paint or sculpt, or try and convince my girl that the experimental galloping dance I perform during the opening credits of Game of Thrones is a work of art. I don’t make or craft anything. But I know how to look like I do. I’m a counterfeit artisan and this is the shirt I wear.

This shirt is so lazy-ass, you don’t even need to put your own paint splodges on it. Check the buttons, they’re all painty. Like you had an accident while making sponge patterns on a desk you got for six quid on Gumtree. That’s the fucking life right there?

It’s 100% linen, it’s by a brand called Big Uncle and you can nab it over at Beslow for an amount of Yen I can’t be bothered to XE.

Of course, there’s only paint on the buttons, no blemishes on the rest of the shirt. Which is ideal. I mean, you don’t want to look like you actually do stuff. Not in the real. It’s okay tipping your hat to this ‘make and mend’ trend, but I don’t want to look like a fully fledged ‘crafter’. They’ve all got hairy arm pits, eat Royal Jelly sandwiches and have really long toenails.