Thursday, August 25

We spend the day wandering aimlessly around the central areas of Liverpool, thinking about the things we might do in the week we have available. Everywhere we go we see buskers of one sort or another.

I see at least two street musicians who have abandoned a cap on the ground in favour of a contactless payment system with the amount preset to £2. Others still have their guitar case open on the ground in front of them.

Church Street seems to have buskers every twenty metres, and they vary enormously. Burly mem belt out songs from the glory days of merseybeat while teenage girls give strident renditions of the works of Billy Eilish.

Then we find this man, in his Batman disguise. Some of the buskers play instruments, others use backing tapes. He has nothing at all: just a small amplifier and a hand–held microphone. Armed with this he emits a continuous and tuneless gargling sound.

We feel sorry for him. Tomorrow we will see him in an entirely different costume which includes frizzy multicoloured clown hair and a three piece suit emblazoned with the Joker’s face. On two later days we will see him in similar but different outfits. We will feel more puzzled every time we see him. Whatever he thinks he does he obviously puts a lot of time and effort into it.

I never see anyone giving him any money.