In the 1960's and 1970's Danny Benjamin owned and ran a boutique in London called the Carnaby Cavern.

A street busker came into the shop one day wearing a filthy, oversized, tartan jacket. We had in the window a photo of a famous group wearing Union Jack jackets. "I want a suit like theirs," he demanded, and then a curt "How much?"

"£75," I replied, thinking to myself that if this smelly creature gets any closer to me I'll be sick. But he started bringing out notes from a dozen pockets, each note being crumpled and dirty. Finally we had a pile of money on the counter totalling the £75.

"When would it be ready?" he asked.

"In just one week," I replied. He was a pleasure to serve, paying for the suit up front, and collecting it, a week later. That I thought was the end of it.

A year later, I had taken my wife out to see the latest 'Clint Eastwood' movie, and had a lovely meal at the Swiss Centre. And were strolling towards our parked car just off 'Leicester Square' when we came to a crowd of people watching some street entertainers.

I noticed there were two middle-aged balding men singing (possibly shouting would be a better description). They had a grubby little Fox Terrier, its only accomplishment being it could walk on its hind legs. An awful noise was coming from a portable record player, a Dansette.

Their routine was possibly based on a Wilson Kepple and Betty routine. I remember thinking that the men were filthy. What on earth were they wearing? But it was already too late to escape. One of the men wearing a red/grey/blue suit had spotted me.

Stopping the routine in mid-stream, he shouted to the world, 'Ladies and Gentleman... my tailor'... This filthy man, wearing the dirtiest suit imaginable! There was no doubt in my mind whatsoever that he had lived in the suit, twenty-four hours a day, for the entire year!

The crowd turned as one, to see who made suits for tramps. A few started to clap. We made a speedy exit... not a very pleasant end to our evening!!..

Danny Benjamin, Middlesex, 2002