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It’s hard to meet Vance Miller with an open mind. For starters, his nickname is the Kitchen Gangster. He’s a body builder with biceps that could effortlessly snap the neck of a pen-pushing journo. And his reputation! The Daily Mail calls him "the most complained about independent trader in Britain", and he’s been investigated by Watchdog and Rogue Traders more times than anyone else.

His rap sheet is disturbingly long and varied. He’s been repeatedly imprisoned, including a two-year stretch for kidnapping; been shot; been tried for gold smuggling; and in November last year his house was raided by 130 police offices in the biggest Trading Standards raid of all time. And he’s been banned from being a director until 2014.

But is he really a wrong ’un? After all, he’s built a £100m business selling kitchens to some of the biggest retailers in the world. He’s long protested he’s the victim of a smear campaign, and there is no shortage of customers who defend him. A Channel 4 documentary, Brits Get Rich in China, which aired in May, followed Miller on the buying trail, revealing just how diligent he is in hunting bargains.

Real Business arranged to meet Miller to find out the truth. Amusingly, a week before the interview, Miller hits the headlines again. He’s on the run from the police, wanted for kidnapping.

A few days later, he posted an article on his Web site explaining his disappearance. He said he had caught burglars at his Oldham mill following a tip-off, conducted a citizen’s arrest and called the police. "They responded by dispatching a force of no less than 30 officers," says Miller. "But they were not, as you might suppose, intent on tracking down the people behind the attempted robbery. Amazingly, they were on their way to arrest me for kidnapping.

"I was preparing to leave for a very important business trip in China and I couldn’t believe that they were serious about coming to arrest me. The first chance I got, I slipped the police and made a run for it, leaving all 30 of them out of breath and way behind. A trusted friend then took to me to France by boat and I made my way to Amsterdam where I boarded a plane to China to conclude my business."

When we show up at his headquarters, Maple Mill in Oldham, Miller is there to greet us. The kidnapping episode seems to have blown over. "Charges dismissed," he says casually, and suggests we do a quick tour.

Maple Mill is, in fact, two vast redbrick warehouses; one five floors, one six, which tower over the Oldham skyline.

Miller is an importer: he sources kitchenware from Russia, Italy, Turkey and China. He owns granite mines in Northern China and oak forests in Inner Mongolia. A true trader, he’ll buy anything from anywhere.

We stroll past piles of doors and whining laminating machines. "There are two million doors here. I make 6,000 doors a week at the mill. Won’t last. No point. I can make them for £2 in China compared with £6 here." On to another floor, piled high with motorbikes and quadbikes. "Don’t know what to do with them. Can’t sell them. Trading Standards say they aren’t up to scratch."

Ah, Trading Standards. Are they really out to get you, Vance? As we pass millions of PVC sheets, wood panels and a few thousand ovens, he pauses to give his side of the story.

"They tried to close me down. They shut one company, so I started another. They banned me from being a director, so I became a sole proprietor. They invented a brand new law called a "Stop Now Order" and gave the first one to me. They sent me to jail. I got out, still carried on. Then they took my operator’s licence from me, so I couldn’t operate a truck. Overnight I bought 60 vans and kept on delivering. The council built a weigh-station outside the mill and weighed every van for a week. That didn’t stop me. They tried to blacken my name, calling me a vagabond and a villain and a crook. Now they are trying to get the Assets of Crime Agency involved and take everything from me."

After the tour we sit down in his office. He describes his early career: "I’ve always been entrepreneurial. At 11, I was cleaning cars. Got such a good beat I employed others. I was earning £200 a week. Then I got into antiques. Left school at 15 - I got nine O levels though, to please my Mum - and opened an antique shop in Butterlane Market." The venture was cut short when he was convicted of handling stolen goods. A short spell in Borstal ensued. "I didn’t realise it was wrong to handle stolen goods. I really didn’t!"

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