In another life I was accosted by a 'Saigon Cowboy' on Tu Do Street when he was trying the old trick of selling me a fat roll of bills that was actually just a few piastres wrapped around plain paper.
It was just too tedious trying to get this guy off my back in the usual way so that I just looked at him wide-eyed and said, 'But, but, that is ILLEGAL!' He gave me a look of pure disgust and walked off, not wanting to have anything more to do with such an obvious idiot.
So here perhaps people should all sport 'Porsche Drivers Club' tee-shirts and buttonhole the most menacing guy in the bush bar to tell him about the pure pleasure of driving the second-best, semi-high-performance touring car on the market today for as long as that takes. Subjectively that would be days, in reality about thirty minutes to one hour. That could work the same way sporting a snazzy black-and-white paint job does for the skunk.