By the 1970s he was a self-employed painter-decorator in London, but had little clue what he was doing. On one occasion he was redecorating a large house in Clapham where the owner wanted a downstairs lavatory painted in a terracotta colour. Having run out of money, Arthur whitewashed the walls, installed an orange lightbulb and after dark showed off his handiwork to the owner, disappearing before daylight revealed the truth.
That sounds very clued in indeed actually.
Cage dancing? They were men in those days.
I was once told of a bloke who made his living by clearing roof gutters.
Big believer in tennis balls, apparently.