My first sales job entailed tramping the streets visiting mostly Asian grocers. Being the depths of winter I wore a wide-brimmed "stetson" type hat, which I had on one day in the less salubrious area of Glasgow in Duke Street. As I worked on the terminal behind the counter of one shop, a local young worthy wandered in and looked me up and down in a long lingering style.
At first puzzled, this shell-suited ned made a connection between his sparse brain cells and a slow grin crawled upon his face.
"Haw man" he lazily exclaimed in that renowned Weegie nasal drawl, "Haw, it's Clint Easterhoose so it is!"
It was so unexpected (I was expecting an enquiry about the whereabouts of my horse) that I couldn't help but laugh along with him.