When I first moved down to Bournemouth in the mid 1980’s, whenever I went into town there was a vagrant/tramp/down-and-out who used to stand on a corner strumming a beaten up old ukulele at super high speed. Just the open strings mind.
CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!
He thought he was a legit busker and that passers by would give him cash. He was totally deluded.
CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!
Some people would occasionally give him loose change. Not because they thought he was talented, but because they wanted other people to see them do it.
But, of course, it just made him carry on. Every time I went into Bournemouth he’d be there
CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!-CHING!
Sonic Youth remind me of that old tramp guy.