I was in one of the ballad sessions in Whitby Conservative Club once, when Fred was getting very unsteady on his pins. A singer who shall remain nameless began an interminable introduction to an interminable song. I got up to take a leak. So did Fred. I gave him a hand down the interminable flight of stairs, and we progressed very slowly to the gents. There we did what gents usually do in the gents whilst swapping stories, before we eventually made our way back up the interminable flight of stairs. Believe me, we were in no hurry at all. Arriving at the door, which of course was barred against us, I stood waiting for the round of applause.

"There's no need for that", said Fred. "She'll still be yapping away about the same bloody song".

She was too.