After you, no after you

I love the market in Ripon on Thursday mornings and we tend to buy our fruit and veg there as well as any other odds and sod we have to do.
So we're in Johnsons the cleaners picking up some dry cleaning when a small scruffy man came in behind me. He was dressed in a cap and coat over what looked like a fishmonger's apron and he'd dumped several suits onto the counter which needed altering. He looked very dishevelled and the apron didn't bode well for smells.
Anyway, he's chatting to the assistant and tells her that, amongst other things, he wants the trousers shortening.
You can see where this is going can't you?
The assistant asks him what leg length he wants.
"No idea," he said in a dirty old man voice, "someone will have to measure me."
In a flash, all the assistants had disappeared leaving me barely able to contain my laughter and being ushered out of the shop by Jan before I embarrassed her. It was so, so funny.