The shirt reads: “Sir Prise” — in full blackletter, as though it were a real title.
Beneath the name, a knight in plate armour bursts out of a wooden chest on a coiled spring, sword in one hand, pennant in the other, entirely committed to the bit.
Two words doing the work of one. It is a jack-in-the-box, it is a knight, and it is a pun that takes a beat to arrive. For the medieval-fair regulars, the dad-joke specialists, and anyone whose favourite kind of humour is the kind that makes a room groan rather than laugh.
