Haggling until the price is right

What about knocking £50 off for me?" I say, holding a tan leather coat under the nose of a Marks and Spencer shop assistant. He's so shocked by my impertinence that he blushes. "Come on," I smile gamely at him, "I love the coat but the price is just too high."

We both stare at the coat admiringly for a moment.

"Yes, it is a very beautiful coat, madam," replies Rosy Cheeks at last, "but at Marks and Spencer, a price is a price, and the price is £225. Our mid-spring sales start shortly; I suggest you return then."

With that he turns on his heel, evidently bursting to tell his colleagues about the tight-fisted shopper he's just dealt with.

The very idea of bargaining used to make my toes curl, a horror reserved for foreign holidays. Then I put on a rucksack for a sevenmonth tour of China and the Far East. It took a while to get over that very English embarrassment, but suddenly I was bartering with the best - and enjoying it.

I developed an arsenal of haggling weapons: the roll of the eyes, the tired "I wasn't born yesterday" smile, the barely disguised snort of derision.

Back in London, I wondered if my new skills would work in the bastions of British shopping. Consumer research at the Henley Centre reveals that more than a third of us have bartered over the cost of goods and services. During a one-day haggling odyssey in London, I found negotiating prices was acceptable to some vendors but a nasty shock to others.

My day starts in Dixons (Holborn branch) where I try to get money knocked off a pay-as-you-go mobile phone. The man behind the counter stares at me.

"Try The Link, they're cheaper." "What? You'd rather I went to a rival than knock a few quid off ?"

"It's just down the road." Not to be defeated, I head to Gultronics on the Tottenham Court Road. Its cheapest pay-asyougo is a Nokia for £119.99. It's time to try a teensy white lie.

"It's for my mother's birthday. She really, really needs a phone, but I can't afford that. Will you bring the price down a bit?"

The whining note in my voice pays off. He calls his superior to ask if a discount is allowed. "He says £110." I shake my head.

"No? All right a hundred quid." I shake even harder.

"That's the final offer, love." I accept. Not bad, £20 cheaper.

Following my aforementioned failure at M&S's flagship Oxford Street branch, I head to Berwick Street market and find a man stuffing fruit into brown paper bags for Soho advertising types.

"Those are nice Galia melons. Are they ready to eat?" I ask.

"They're beautiful, doll, you won't find better."

"Hmmm, I'll give you £3 for two," I say. He snorts derisively. Don't steal my tactics, mister.

"All right then, £3.50." "No, darling, it's a fiver, I'm hardly making anything on them as it is. OK, for you, £4.50." We settle on £4. Then I go to a flower stall and get 50p off some lilies.

Next stop is Currys at Wandsworth Bridge. I tell the salesman I want a Bosch washing machine. It's £399.

"That's an awful lot of money. Can you knock off a bit?" I ask.

"No." "Come on, as a gesture of goodwill." "No."

I look petulantly towards the exit. After a minute's pause he says: "Well, maybe there's something I can do."After a bit of haggling he offers me £40 off.

At Wandsworth's Arndale Centre I go into Poundland. "Everything's £1," the signs proclaim. Not if I can help it. I ask for money off the patio cleaner. My argument, that it's only water and detergent, doesn't wash. However I do get a pack of chocolate eggs for 50p after pointing out that one is damaged.

By now I'm feeling invincible. It's time for the most difficult target of them all - Harvey Nichols. Alas, after half an hour, I emerge not only beaten, but cringing in every cell. My first target is the Smythson stationery concession. I spot some address books for a ridiculous £50 each.

I am getting married soon and I need six gifts for the ushers," I announce to the assistant. Frightening how the lies are now spouting from my mouth. "I like these, but if I was to buy six I think I should get one free."

The man almost recoils. He checks with another assistant at the counter and comes back with a superior smirk. "No, madam, we never do things like that."

Now it's my turn to scuttle away with burning cheeks. Still, I plough on to Paul Smith Woman where I try on a flower-print skirt for £180.

"I want this skirt, but I decided before I came in that I wouldn't spend more than £170," I explain to a pleasant-faced assistant.

"Go on," she urges, "just treat yourself and cut back a bit next week. It's sooo lovely."

She's clearly not catching my drift. So I head to the info desk and repeat my request. "I can help you," the woman replies. At last!

"You see, madam, if you get a Harvey Nichols card today, that gives you 10 per cent off, which would make the skirt only £162." I promise to think about it and weakly head for the exit.

My golden rule for London bargaining is: be firm but not aggressive - too much aggression and they'll enjoy saying no. Choose your target. Best are shops or stalls run by their owners. Avoid high-street chains and department stores - unless you get your thrills from abject humiliation.

Bosch Exxcel washing machine, £399.95, reduced to £359.95 Saving £40 (Currys, Wandsworth Bridge)

Nokia pay-asyougo phone, £119.99, reduced to £100 Saving £19.99 (Gultronics, Tottenham Court Road)

Chocolate eggs, £1, reduced to 50p Saving 50p (Poundland, Arndale Centre, Wandsworth)

Two Galia melons, £5, reduced to £4 Saving £1 (Berwick Street market)