In the twenties in Berlin there was an institution called the "Cabaret of the Nameless,” which took pride in presenting the most incompetent and talentless performers it could find. Here is a description by Erich Kästner, from the Weimar Republic Sourcebook:
The nameless are for the most part such
pig-headed beings that they are completely impervious to the ridicule and laughter of the audience....They recite the saddest stories one could possibly conceive and take no offense at the howling laughter from the audience because they quite simply do not hear it! They achieve a state of rapture that would cause every serious performer to envy them. With utterly vacant smiles playing on their lips they let the terrible merriment of the others completely pass them by, speak their nonsense or hop their dance steadfastly to the end, are not even disturbed when Elow [the proprietor] leaps onto the stage, bids them to pause, and lets the audience vote whether the “performer” should keep dancing or talking, or whether they have had enough. The ancient Romans turned their thumbs down when the vanquished was to be dealt the death blow. Here they scream: “Keep him up there, Elow! He’s sooo good! Let him start over from the beginning!” … People grow fangs by using them to bite, then return pacified to human society. This is a padded cell for the metropolis. One can rage, claw and pound without hurting either oneself or others. The metropolis in its natural form is an inhumane place, and inhumane means are required for it to be endured.