My former boss told me that I missed my vocation in life. I should have been a barrow boy in the East end of London. There's a grain of truth there: I think I would have loved it. Think about it. You get the chance to talk, you get an audience, you can bullshit and you can make money. (I tell you there are days when I even believe myself.)
OK, OK, next. A full set of towels, two bath towels, two hand towels and two face cloths.
Feel them darling (to the woman at the front). Bet you'd like a rub down with these?
Lovely aren't they. Finest Egyptian cotton (which they are not). How much you reckon? You there, the one in the pink blouse at the back, what you think? Come on love, give them a feel.
I know what you are thinking, all of you lovelies. Worth every penny of 25 quid. And you're right cus that's what I paid for them.
Trouble is, I am short of readies and her indoors wants to go up West tonight so I gotta sell them. Only 10 sets left.
What did you say my darling? 5 quid? You are pulling my plonker, ain't you?
OK, let's be serious. What do you want to pay? You love, the pretty one. What you reckon?
A tenner? Gor blimey, I am losing my shirt here but you're pretty so done.
etc etc
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1 comment:
That's actually pretty accurate!
A relative of mine used to be a trader at Covent Garden, when it was still a market. You name it, he could get it! Never forgotten his daughter wearing a beaut sheepskin coat to school, with the label ripped out of course..........same sheepskin coat that a TV programme was airing as being amongst a batch that had been stolen :-)
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