Selling the nylons. 1940s
The old Bull Ring was a mecca for spivs, just after the war, but there'd always be some 'public-spirited' spoilsport who'd ring the police and get them chased off their pitches.
I'd never condone their modern equivalent in our current 'land of plenty', but spivs actually filled a need in the early post-war years of deprivation.
When we used to ride the coach down to Bournemouth for our annual holiday in the early 50's, there'd always be some in Newbury Bus Station, where a more pragmatic view of their prescence was clearly taken.