"But it'll cost $50 to then do the other one."
We agreed on a dollar.
"You've never polished these since you bought them," he admonished while applying the first dollop of nugget.
"A fresh new tin a day and put lots of it on. That's the way to do it," he said, his cloth-clutching hands a blur of activity as he drove the nugget into slabs of leather which had not seen the stuff for a long, long time.
Just then a chap in fine leather slip-ons strolled by and Charlie gestured for him to stop.
But he didn't, so Charlie pulled out a whistle and blew it.
The chap continued to walk on so he pulled out a can of "odour eater" and with a Chaplinesque sheepish grin offered him that.
Still no dice.
Another dollar had walked by.
"Not many people wear leather shoes these days," he lamented while pointing to his collection hat.
After two hours he had earned $6.10.
"Not even the minimum wage," he grumbled.
"Won't get me a ticket in to anything tonight at this rate."
Back in Max Patmoy guise (no silent gestures) he said he loved dressing up in all sorts of costumes, although agreed the Chaplin get-up was the one that drew the cameras out.
"Although not everyone knows who Charlie Chaplin was of course. I've had people ask if I was Adolf Hilter."
He said Japanese visitors were often the most enthusiastic when it came to getting photos, and inter-acting with the scruffily-clad Mr Chaplin.
"I'll take my jacket off to put on one of them for a picture and meanwhile another is trying to undo my fly to take my trousers off."
The whole colourful weekend was sheer fun and he enjoyed a string of clothing and costume changes throughout the event.
"It's all part of promoting Napier. It's such a great event and ..."
He waved me off at that stage as a chap wearing the most battered and worn old brown leather boots stepped up.
"This could take some time," he said solemnly.
