#Bristol, and Another Day in Nutsville: Featuring, Bristol's Most Baffling Buskers, Tree Brides, and Twenty-Pound Notes.
A satirical journey through the surreal headlines of Bristol, from ear-splitting street performers to a housing protest that took an unexpectedly arboreal turn.
(Image: Epigram)
After the weekend I had blogging, I didn't think for a minute that today would start in "Nutsville" too, but I'm always ready to be surprised, and today didn't disappoint. Welcome to just another crazy day in Bristol.
What is it about people who think they're God's gift to busking? Their guitar playing is so out of tune that my cat in heat sounds like a Simon and Garfunkel song by comparison. These people take your pain tolerance to a whole new level, especially when it feels like your fillings are being hammered with a metal spoon. I've seen seagulls covering their heads with their wings. If you ever find a dead one on the pavement, you can be sure it voluntarily fell off a tall building in agony, tired of listening to what's supposed to be music. The Bristol buskers I've encountered are a different breed entirely.
The one I heard today clearly thought he was brilliant, and he probably would have been—had he first learned to sing in tune. For a moment, I actually wondered if the Samaritans had sent him out to increase their call rate, what with it being August and most people away.
If Bristol is anything to go by, I can only imagine London is on a 9/11-style, avian kamikaze alert right now. The capital must be overrun with people who actually believe they can sing, and worse still, badly play an instrument at the same time! What gives these people hope, other than friends who are too kind to be honest and just say, "Sorry, you're crap"? I mean, even London's Underground has a formal licensing scheme where street performers have to audition for a panel of music industry experts. Of course, the Bristol version of this would be council employees who are so fed up with the tediousness of their workload that it's a choice between auditioning a hopeless busker, or procuring a new street planter for another part of the city that doesn't need one.
Then, of course, there's the issue of the new, and very fake twenty pound notes. Here you go, have a look for yourself and guess who you can tell it's a fake. Go on, I dare you. Look closely now!
Do you know, if I wasn't a stronger person I'd be back on the fine malt whiskey by now, considering the sheer lunacy of the world around me that provides content for these Bristol blogs. So, for today's final instalment from 'Nutsville,' my attention turns to this.
A group of campaigners—the very same 'tree brides' who, four years ago, symbolically married the trees on the site—have held a mock funeral for Bristol's harbourside caravan park. It seems they were absolutely pining for the good old days. After all, the closure of a site run by the Caravan Club for the last 46 years is a far more pressing concern than, say, the urgent need for new housing in Bristol.
Having ceremoniously buried the caravan park, these mourning 'tree brides' are now branching out with a clear and rational vision for the future: a memorial park and a disabled adults playground. Their spokesperson passionately argues that the site, which was, up until last week, a holiday destination for people in Winnebagos, must be saved from the 'predatory forces' of new homes. She declared it should be dedicated to victims of Bristol’s shameful slave trade, a connection that only seems to have been unearthed at a remarkably convenient time.
Meanwhile, Goram Homes, the Bristol City Council's own housing developer, has the audacity to go ahead and build 166 new flats. Their managing director, Stephen Baker, delivered a classic corporate monologue, but it seems he's had a flat-out refusal from the protesters. He even confirmed that 40% of the flats would be 'affordable'—66 homes in total, with government funding secured after the council initially said it couldn't afford to do it. It appears the root of their success came from somewhere else entirely. This ongoing Baltic Wharf development is certainly making waves in Bristol news.
So, from the ear-splitting tones of our local buskers to the baffling world of counterfeit currency, and finally to the spectacle of 'tree brides' holding a funeral for a caravan park, today has been a true masterclass in the bizarre. It's a journey through the sheer, unvarnished lunacy that seems to be the daily soundtrack of our lives. These aren't just isolated events; they're all chapters in the same ongoing saga of 'Nutsville.' And while the world continues to deliver such head-scratching moments, at least we know one thing for sure: the content for this blog is never, ever going to run out.