I was ambling round Covent Garden, looking for nothing in particular this afternoon and inevitably my attention was drawn to the street "perfomers". I sometimes think the way I make a living is a bit of a cheat and a doddle and that one day a small child (called Marc Jones?) will stand up in the crowd and say "It's just a fat middle-aged man talking shit," and everyone else will say "Aah, yes. Yes it is. How stupid we wer to be hoodwinked by this."
But to be honest it's going to take a small boy like Marc Jones a long time to really get round to me as there are a lot more people deserving of having the essential uselessness of their lives pointed out. Namely the metallic statue people whose job is to stand still and look like a statue all day (which seems rude to the statues who are doing a perfectly good job of that already and who don't expect payment from us). As I passed a gilded still man holding a bicycle (the terrorists have won if statue men are using bicycles rather than gilded buses and tubes) I wanted to shout at him, "Is your dad proud of you?"
But I didn't.
"Surely he can't make much money for just standing there with a bike," I thought. But then a tourist came up and deposited a few coins in the basket on front of the bike and the statue rang his bell and swung around wildly to look at his foolish benefactor. And then the excitement over, he was still again.
"He still can't get all that much money though," I internally opined to myself. But in the next twenty yards of walking I heard that bell ring twice more. Let's say everyone just gives him a pound for standing still, then he's on £3 a minute or £180 an hour. I somehow doubt the tax man sees too much of his earnings either. It's the perfect job.
I am beginning to suspect that what I assumed was gold paint, adorning him and his mode of transport might actually be real gold. He is laughing at us all (internally obviously - he is still outwardly, but inside is a riot of excitement).
You know I seriously doubt that he even rides that bike home.
