For the best part of three decades, Jean-Marie Roughol lived as a down-and-out in Paris. Begging in the shadow of the Arc de Triomphe, he was a familiar figure to the wealthy and famous who frequented the designer boutiques and luxury convenience stores of the Champs Élysées.
Some ignored his polite appeals, scurrying past and looking the other way; others stumped up a coin or two – or even a note; and one couple offered him walk-on parts in their movies.
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