Drayton: Statues
Our high streets are a minefield. From boarded up stores to the plethora of coffee and phone retailers, to the enthusiastic doe-eyed chuggers who urge you to save a tiger or a blind kiddie, there’s no joy left for the casual ambler with a glad eye for the ladies – or the gentlemen.
Added to this we have the threat of the amplified busker. The poor deluded bastard who thinks we enjoy their car battery amplified fret wankery. If it’s not some tuneless belch it’s some faux-mystic native American pan pipe flute wank or some rogue throttling Oasis and Bonnie Tyler.
But at least these divots put in an effort; they’ve gone to the bother to learn something and put on a show, no matter how piss poor the display. Next to the latest – most utterly useless – addition to the region’s high streets these buskers are no longer tuneless scum, but artistes of the highest calibre.
I am, of course, talking about the human statues who are now littering Northumberland Street in Newcastle.
What posses a grown man, as invariably it is, to pretend to be a statue? Last Saturday there were two. One who doesn’t even bother with face paint and wears a mask, looking like some mystic Widow Twanky stood outside H&M. And, across the way, a white clad dandy, who at least had the good grace to clog up his pores with paint.
There they stand with their begging bowls expecting you to reward them for having visited a fancy dress shop and standing still. Beggars under blankets have more entertainment value. At least they say something when you ignore them. These immobile buggers think doing nothing qualifies as some kind of entertainment. It’s not. It’s standing still in dressing up clothes.
So what’s to be done?
The late comedian Malcolm Hardy would attempt to foist invisible money on statue men. I once goaded my then three-year-old to push one over; she failed, but it was a good effort.
I’m not condoning any kind of attack, the best way to deal with them is to ignore them. Sadly, they won’t go away, they’re statues. You could try nicking their money, that’d soon loosen them up. Unless they really are statues.
Which they’re not.
Are they?
