And I don’t believe it ended there. Bakers had a special rate for all measurements. If a baker was buying some curtains and asked for a yard of material, and the shopkeeper cut him off a yard exactly, the baker would again pull a surprised face, point at his hat and say, “I don’t think you’ve realised. I am a baker. That is a baker’s yard I’ll be wanting.”

“A baker’s yard?”

“Yes, a baker’s yard is four feet long, not three feet like your normal person’s yard. Throw that bit away and cut me off a baker’s yard please, if you want your kids to get any bread tonight.”

And in the pub, the baker might request a pint of ale and again appear bamboozled when the landlord gave him just an ordinary pint glass brimming with beer. He’d point at his baker’s hat (which he would definitely still be wearing in the pub. He is aware of its powers) and say “Maybe you didn’t notice the hat. I don’t wear this out of affectation. I am a baker. I want a baker’s pint.”

“How much is a baker’s pint?”

“It is a pint and a bit. I am a baker. I always get a bit more.”

“But all our glasses are made to the same size. You can only get a pint of any liquid into them.”

“Then you will have to have some more glasses made, for me, the baker. Glasses that hold a pint and a bit. Or maybe you have a wheat allergy or something and don’t need to eat bread. To be honest, even if you do have a wheat allergy, you will still have to eat bread. There is nothing else.”

Richard Herring on the (slightly dubious, but very funny) origins of the Baker’s Dozen.