Spent the weekend in Liverpool, where the afternoon was marred by the ever-presence of a group of drummers—some sort of Brazilian Tinitus collective—who were maurading around the Albert Dock pounding incesantly for hour on end.
Any crap busker can be forgotten with yards once they're out of earshot, but a drummers are impossible to shake off due to the acoustic menace that they create, with the tedius rhythm penetrating the thickest walls. This qualifies as cruel and inhuman treatment to my mind and should be stopped now.
If Liverpool thinks its going to have visitors when they become the City of Culture in 2008, they're going to have to get this lot out of town.
Anyway, nice to see the guy shuffling past my mum's old home on his way to the shop in his pyjamas. Class.
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