Have you seen this man?

He's in his late forties, has a two-day stubble, and has bloodshot eyes. He's probably drunk, or is just getting out of his hangover. His clothes, though not ragged, are well-worn.

But he's not just an average joe; there's something in his face that sets him apart, an innate intelligence or cunning. He's the one sitting idly in the tea shop and passing knowledgeable comments as someone reads out the day's stories from the paper. He's someone who's fallen on hard times, probably because of his drinking. Talk to him, and you'll find that he's very articulate, maybe even in English. But beware, he's very likely to impress you with his language and sophistication, and touch you for whatever you can spare him.

Why am I blathering on about this person, you ask? No reason, except that I saw a person fitting this profile a couple of days ago, and this triggered a train of thoughts; one incident in particular, when I was conned out of five bucks by such a person (he claimed to be blind or something, I forget).

Anyway, you can't help but like this person, scoundrel though he may be. He's the guy who's wasted his life looking for quick deals, the hottest racing tip that nobody else knows. He has burnt his fingers quite a few times, and is cynical as hell. Life has passed him by, in all probability, but he's still out there, keeping a lookout for an opportunity, a mark, while all he's certain about is the temporary relief he feels every night as the booze hits home, if only he could hustle the money for it by six o'clock...