A friend of a friend - let's call him Guy - a city lawyer, knows a lot of prostitutes, for some reason. I didn't ask why. Anyway, the thing about being a prostitute is that your happy punters regularly want to shower you with gifts, and more often than not, it's fur coats.
Now, you know as well as I do, that you rarely see anyone under fifty-ish or even with vaguely liberal views wearing a fur coat nowadays. I have no idea how prostitutes would rate themselves on the animal welfare front, but apparently, whilst you can't be too rich or too thin, you can have too many fur coats. But what does one do with a surfeit of fur coats in today's world?
So Guy hit upon the ideal business venture; he has cornered the market in the second-hand never-worn fur coat vertical. Nearly all the prostitutes in London, allegedly, come to him with their unwanted wares, and he sells them on and takes a significant cut. He doesn't have any competitors; there are serious barriers to entry to this, albeit niche, market, like you have to know a lot of prostitutes and where do you start?
Apparently, he doubles his salary. But I'm guessing that this bit is strictly cash.
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