'Are they real?" a child asks, as the crowd stares disbelievingly at the motionless man and woman in silver-foil fabric. But all it takes is for a woman to toss a coin and the man bows, breaking the spell. His female consort inclines her head. The two oblige with slow, stately movements any time a coin comes their way. Otherwise they remain stock still.

"There's a lovely statue of Molly Malone at the end of Grafton Street and she doesn't move at all," jokes Bill MacKinnon (from Inverness) when he "stands down" for a break, pulling off his medieval silver cap to reveal shocking red hair. His eyes and teeth look surreal, juxtaposed against his silver skin.

He and Abbi Falkner (from Devon) are on a "working holiday in Ireland" and have come to Dublin after spending some time at the Galway Arts Festival and in Cork. "This is what we do all the time at home," says Abbi. "We do exhibitions, promotions, raves, private parties. We were at the launch of Jean-Michel Jarre's new Oxygene album last January in the Hayward Gallery. We had to wear clay and leaves for that."

She and Bill, now off-duty, dismantle the illusion and pull out a container of babywipes. Baby-wipes? "They're great for taking off the make-up," Bill chuckles.

Outside Weir's, a young ensemble plays classical music. "There are eight of us altogether but we usually don't all play at the same time - sometimes there are only three of us," says Eimear Lacey (16) from Bray, who plays the violin with fellow members of the Dublin Youth Orchestra and the National Youth Orchestra. All are violinists, except Feargal Durnin (18) from Ballinteer, who plays the viola, and Kate Hearne (18) from Rathfarnham, who plays the cello.

"We can make up to £20 each on a good day if we smile and don't mess," says Eimear. They usually play between 11.30 a.m. and 3 p.m., not only during the summer but also on Saturdays and school holidays, and can get very bored with the limited repertoire they play. "We always play the same five pieces because no-one listens to us if we play anything else," says Eimear.

"Some people tell us we're beggars, others tell us we're great," she continues. Hassle arrives in the form of the Garda, the passing drunk, and "the little people" (traveller children looking for money from their audiences). But, on the bright side, people often come up to them on the street and book them for weddings and receptions, where, mercifully for them, they can vary the repertoire.

"The worst is when Americans come up to us and ask us if we are all from the same family," adds Eimear. "We just smile and say yeah, yeah."

It is only day two of their busking career on Grafton Street, and already Alan Nugent, Richard Kennedy and John Allman (all aged 17 and from Malahide) have an attentive groupie. "Will you be here tomorrow?" she asks. "I'll come and see you on my lunch break."

"That's why we're busking, really," says Alan, rather smugly. The others grin. "Oh no, don't write that down," says John in dismay as he notices the ever moving pen.

We talk earnestly about band life. "I've played in Eamonn Doran's," says Richard. "I play with a lot of different bands."

"We started off playing the music we like, like Radiohead and the Smashing Pumpkins, but nobody gave us any money," they moan. "Today we're playing old stuff like The Beatles and Paul Simon and they still aren't giving us anything."

Stories of how U2 and The Hothouse Flowers made their debut busking on Grafton Street lift their spirits briefly. But John wants to get "a decent Leaving" first and foremost, and keep the rock music as "a hobby". Richard seems more committed to a musical future: "Gigs are great fun. Sometimes you even get paid. That's the best."

James Waller is an art student from Sydney, Australia who is travelling for the summer and earning some "pocket money" by doing street portraiture. "I do at least four or five a day on average," he explains, clawing at his sketch-pad which the wind is threatening to blow away. "If you're well organised you have an umbrella, but I don't! Sunny weather is the best, because that's when people most like to sit out." Each portrait costs £10 but he is open to bargaining, especially on a slow day.

He is quick to dissociate what he does from his art studies: "This is nothing to do with art. This is just drawing faces for a bit of money." He has just been plying his trade in Leicester Square: "I've met a huge quagmire of people: some friendly; some greedy. I'll be gone in a few days, to Paris." Soon he is ensconced with a fond family, whose toddler he is sketching as she eyes him from her stroller, teddy bear firmly in hand.

"I'm probably the only bassist busking in Ireland," says Lomanis Scuderi from the Bronx. His long red hair flops over his face as he thumps out rhythms on his bass guitar, playing his "freak out music": "I'm trying to get enough money to buy a good amplifier so I can start my band, conquer the world and knock Oasis off the tracks".

He has been busking in Dublin for a week. "I came to Dublin because there is a young rock scene here, it's flowering. Talented people in New York or London are less likely to be discovered because there is so much going on in those cities. In Dublin you don't get lost."