Back in the '70s, no, the 1970s cheeky young whippersnapper, a friend of mine worked in his Dad's clothes shop which was next door to a funeral directors. There was some dispute about him putting racks of clothes out on the pavement which the funeral parlour said was in bad taste. Bad taste? They didn't have a clue what bad taste really was.
After a night in the pub, which one I can't remember as there were so many, we hatched a dastardly plan. The next morning Dave and I were standing outside the shops wearing dark suits and with a tape measure hung around each of our necks we put out a hand written sigh which read:
"Pay now, die later. Why not take advantage of our easy-pay funeral scheme?" We then proceded to measure people who stood at the bus stop which was in front of both premises. To make matters worse, Dave would measure them and shout out the dimensions:
"Length: 5' 7", width: 2'6" and so on. needless to say this activity didn't improve relations between the two businesses much. However, before things came to blows, a few nights later there was a riot which burnt both shops out.
Dave's Dad put in an insurance claim that took into account the newly arrived stock of several hundred pairs of Wrangler jeans and jackets and then promptly retired to Spain. As for the occupants of a certain pub in the Stockport area, we almost all wore Wranglers bought at a knock down price which we picked up from Dave's garage. I understand he still wears Wrangler to this day.