A homeless man is reciting a poem on a train in New York. It’s horrible to say what I’m thinking here but there’s no getting around it – this is an awful performance. Clichéd and emotive and far too quiet. I give him a quarter anyway. In the following weeks I come to realise that I gave the money because I am Australian and an Australian has a healthy sense of pity. A New Yorker reacts differently. No matter that the performer is destitute, a bad show is a bad show and he should be judged accordingly. This time the critic was a white guy in a sleeveless sweatshirt.