Busker

It's cold and wet, you've just lost your job and your girlfriend has left you for another columnist. Then, over yonder, a version of Streets of London so off-key, so bizarre, so downright dreadful that it lifts your spirit and warms your armpits. So please, reach into your pockets, dig deep and celebrate with me the underdog that is the busker.

I don't know about you but I like bad buskers: buskers who are too drunk, emotionally impaired or downright awful to make what they are doing resemble music. Why would I want to hear a good busker? If I want good stuff, I can just switch on my pee-pod. That's what is so tedious about modern buskers, with their allocated spots, top-of-the-range amps and hidden drum machines. And, quite probably, excellent day jobs at Deloitte. What ever next – Mick Jagger plays Holborn tube?

Since the intention of a busker is donation maximisation, it is best if he or she sticks to bands we all know and love: The Beatles, The Kinks, Take That, Scraping Foetus Off The Wheel, and so on. Crowd-pleasing songs include 'Angels', 'Hey Jude' and 'Happy Birthday'. The last of these has a 1 in 365 chance of finding its target but is worth it as it always makes the birthday boy or girl feel special and may lead to big rewards. When it comes to the name ("happy birthday dear..."), just cough or use something uni-sex like Leslie or Mo.

After leaving university I too briefly joined the busking fraternity, with my cousin Mal in Brighton. To say that my dad was miffed about this career move is one of the world's greatest understatements (and not because we stole his pitch in The Lanes). Still, our 26 minute rendition of Free As A Bird the day it was released is still talked about in hushed tones around parts of Hove. Unfortunately this Shangri-la descended all too quickly into a haze of cheap wine, Marlboro Reds and not waking up in time to claim at the job centre (ie 5pm). Rock and dole man. Or as Pink Floyd almost once sang, Sign on you Crazy Diamond.

So that's it - the cold kebab, three-stringed world of the busker laid bare. A word of advice, though, before you embark upon a career in outdoor music: if you're going to busk in pairs, make sure the other person is better than you. Oh, and if you dare venture into the realms of harmony, always take the low one – that way, it's less obvious when you f*ck it up.