Online Busking (I can’t believe this actually exists)

Online busking is a cunt, isn’t it.

It’s tedious enough having to suffer these wailing ghouls when attempting to enter Sainsbury’s, carefully giving them a wide berth while they mewl renditions of hoary old turd tunes. Now these talentless greebo crows are begging on-line.

The Chînk virus has wiped own towns clean of these beggars but now you can still torture yourself without leaving your gaff. Marvellous. Even more dire versions of Wonderwall, Torn, Maroon bloody 5, and Bob fucking Marley. Even more African drumming. Nobody in their right mind wants to hear ethnic tribal drumming. I’d pay NOT to hear it.

Buskers should be taxed or better still, like Living Statues, Fire-breathers, and jugglers, they should be banned. All buskers. That includes the grinning tramp doing political rubbish, the whiny lesbô caterwauling Alanis Morisette tat, stripey blanket-wearing Chilean pipe-players, Yewtree ukulele cunts, or ràpey Jamaicans banging away on dustbins. All banned, all cunts.

Nominated by Captain Magnanimous

34 thoughts on “Online Busking (I can’t believe this actually exists)

  1. I am not that surprised. Even as we speak I can picture the plaintive sound of David Lammy’s banjo as Dawn Butler sings Buddy Can You Spare A Dime (or Two)? and of “ma chains”. David knows somebody in chains….

  2. Some years ago I happened upon a young hippy girl busking by blowing a didgeridoo. In Hull for fucksake. I could do dat.
    Cant find any online busker didgeridooing to take me back to those days.

  3. And furthermore, when I decided to give busking a try – slapping my face with boot polish and belting out Al Jolson’s greatest hits accompanied by the clanking of the chains I had brought it was not well received.
    With the benefit of hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have done it at my Police ordered racial awareness course..
    Poor sports!

  4. The death of true busking happened years ago. No thanks to fucking britains got talent…..to many acoustic wannabes (that in itself deserves a separate cunting)
    I used to go busking in the 80s with my rockabilly band, no bullshit just guys having a laugh.

  5. Busking was once a noble art.

    Older readers will recall one man band Don Partridge who was plucked from the streets and sang his hit songs on TOTP. He got tired of the phoney showbiz world and ended up busking again.

    We have a Romanian who plays accordion outside poundland. They even nick our busking spots. But he doesn’t seem to collect many coins.

    Stupidest busker I ever witnessed was an old guy playing a saw!

    Terrible sound but no worse than ed sheeran on a good day.

    • The worst one I ever saw was an old bugger playing a tuba with bits of fire popping out the top. No tune just a gimmick.

  6. No-one misses the tone deaf outpourings of buskers. The slightly dodgy looking bloke with a saxophone belting out jazz standards and pop and a hankering for children, the wailing 20 year olds avec acoustic guitar and bad teeth.
    Add to the list the rat arsed paraffins, no-one misses that lot.
    On a bright note in next years mayoral elections, in the red corner Sadeeeeeek Kaaaaaaaaaan is guaranteed a win. Months of lockdown = no stabby victims. Its a walk over

  7. I would love to see Richard Branson fall on hard times and have to resort to busking outside of Poundland.

    I’d make sure to lob a house brick (or 10) at his smug tax-dodging mug.

    Cunt

  8. Motherfuckers rarely use an instrument more difficult than a guitar, and then rarely progress past simple fucking bar chords. It’s musicianship at nursery level.
    You know the cash is going on drugs and booze and the cunts always have a fucking dog with a bloody bandana on.
    If they can’t muster up a pan pipe or a tamborine you just know they’d be pushing the big issue.
    At least online I can avoid the smelly talentless workshy cunts forever. In fact, now we know they can go online it should be made illegal to “street perform” – punishable with fifty years in jail.
    Cunts.

    • Occasionally you hear a busker an think, thats good!
      Mostly its smackhead or loser types trying to get through some Bob Marley cover on a acoustic.
      I tend not to give them money but advice,
      More ‘what you need than what you want’.
      Heres some wisdom ive imparted-
      1) feed your fuckin dog
      2)get a fuckin wash
      3)thats not the lyrics!
      4) youll never be famous
      5) can you keep it down a bit, im counting my money.
      Constructive critism, they love it.

      • A couple of times I have given them my sweet wrappers, but it’s fucking hard to get through their profane weather system to deliver even that generous bounty.
        Of course, looking at them makes your eyes feel dirty too.
        Gross.

  9. Dont play the innocent Moggie.
    You wasnt going to give them a pocket full of change anymore than I was.
    Might ping a 10pence piece off his teeth ‘accidently’ but fucked if im giving some begging troubadour my money.
    I pur all my change in a jar then cash it in for notes.

  10. Usually I give a busker a bit of change as I’d prefer they were doing something rather than just asking for spare change then trying to guilt trip you by saying, “Yah, have a lovely day.” They do `mewl renditions of hoary old turd tunes’ but I love a trier.

    I wouldn’t give anything to Online buskers, though. Hoo-ee. what a bunch of smelly cunts.

  11. Anyone give me a link to the online bagpiper? Despite not having all the notes for ‘Mull of Kintyre’ in his underarm dead pig, I’m sure he still tries to play it, just like the real thing.

  12. Surely these fuckers should be on their knees worshipping the clean people that walk past them instead of the vulgarity of revelling in the swindle that is busking?
    And whilst we’re at it who has paid for these fuckers computers and internet connection so this digital migration can take place?
    I smell a rat. No, it’s just petulia oil roiling of yet another unwashed DIRTY HIPPY.

    • Confession,..I love patchouli oil smell.
      Makes me nostalgic!
      First pub I was a regular in stunk of it, liked it ever since.

  13. The Paris metro is full of buskers, most of whom are crap. However, there is a group of about 12 Russian men, with balalaikas and guitars, who sing the most amazing songs which echo up and down the corridors and make you think your are on the banks of the Volga with a bottle of vodka in one hand and a flaxen-haired Tatiana ice maiden on the other. They are usually at Trocadero or Franklin D. Roosevelt. I always stop, listen, applaud, shout “bravo” in the best French manner, then walk away without giving them a rouble, sou, euro or dólar. The best things in life are free, n´est-ce pas ,tovarovich?

  14. Evening Her Kapitan.
    I’m intrigued. How does this work? Do you have to donate via Paypal or something?
    Fucking buskers are a pain in the eardrums. I especially hate the cunts in Princes St, Edinburgh, which are mainly of two kinds;
    – ear-splitting bagpipe playing cunts (always in full Andy fucking Stewart rig) who invariably produce a noise which I imagine tormented souls in Hell must sound like.
    – Eastern European accordian players who invariably produce a melancholy, unrecognisable dirge in minor chords only.

    I’d quite happily pay both types of fuckers to shut the fuck up.

  15. This nom missed an opportunity here? Surely the title should have been “I can’t believe this is not busking?”

  16. Q: Why do humans sing?
    A: Singing moves us in different ways. When we sing ourselves, we experience a release of endorphins and this helps promote positivity. When we hear others sing, we can garner their innermost feelings. If we sing in a group we can feel unity, strength and togetherness like at a funeral or a football or rugby match.
    Q: Why do humans’ film themselves covering songs in their bedraggled front rooms and then post it on social meeja for my unsolicited ‘enjoyment’ of an abysmal rendition?
    A: No idea……….

  17. Charles Babbage (He of the Difference and Analytical Engines) successfully had buskers and other street performers banned in London back in the 1800’s on the sensible grounds that he couldn’t get anything done with their racket at all hours. Personally, I think Lord Vetinari had the correct attitude to that worst of all buskers… The Mime artist. Any such found would be suspended by their ankles over a Scorpion Pit, on the opposite wall of which was the helpful advice… LEARN THE WORDS,
    Buskers at the best of times are a nuisance, talentless and tuneless gits one and all.

  18. A viable crack at earning some dough for the theatre studies graduates of Nottingham-Trent or Brighton.

    It’s that or the fryer.

  19. There’s also been an avalanche of “virtual” gigs, with unemployed “look-at-me” cunts desperate to get their boat race seen as they caterwaul tunelessly. If I want to see some cunt doing piss-poor renditions of classic rock and pop songs, I’ll sit in front of a mirror and do it myself.

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