Imagine the scene, a stonemasons' workshop in the mid 19th century, a mason sits alone in the corner, his head in his hands, gently sobbing to himself, other masons wander over, look at the block of limestone on his bench and start laughing.
Enter the foreman stonemason:
FS, Reet lad, I've had a crack wi't'bosses, they say t' U 'll have to stay out if there's no room for it. We'll mek up some radged story about it being a local tradition
Mason, Thank you sir.
FS, But Lady Barrow says she won't be doing with her husband being called Sid, you get busy mekking an R, apprentice Tom'll start chipping that D off.
And another thing, I've asked everyone I could find, none of them are sure if there is a difference between T'Baronets badge and t'Ulster red hand, so we'll just mek do with t'drawing we've gotten.
Actually it was damaged in a lightning storm.