What's in a Name?

William Wigglesworth was a very pleasant but rather unworldly man. He'd inherited a maggot farm from his father which he now ran with great enthusiasm.  Wigglesworth and Wigglesworth supplied fishing tackle shops throughout the land with every conceivable sort of bait fresh and frozen. He supplied rag and lugworm, sand eels, maggots fat and thin and of every colour and type. William kept in touch with others of the same calling and built up a great reputation in the trade.  
 
One day he had the bright idea of starting a trade association to ensure that standards in the industry were not only maintained but improved upon. He had plans for the social side and charity work too. Fuelled by his great passion he had impressive and very expensive stationary printed on which he wrote to his fellow bait suppliers explaining his plans and inviting them to join his association.
 
Not one single reply did he receive. He waited for a couple of weeks then checked with the Post Office but not one person had taken the trouble to respond.
 
William felt so despondent about the situation that he went out one day and got severely drunk. Sadly it was in this inebriated state that he fell into the road and was killed by a bus.
 
At the funeral all his fellow bait suppliers came from far and wide to pay their last respects. They said such wonderful things about him and his business that his widow was left totally bemused. She couldn't understand why these kind, polite folks had not even bothered to answer when her husband had cordially invited them to join The Most Worshipful Guild of Master Baiters