Ah, the welcome cry of the Mudcateer! No mere Mudcatter they - which is to say that well-contented sedentary soul happy at home by their PC with their bottle & friend & a teetering pile of thousands or more folkish CDs - the Mudcateer is out there, a strident voice crying out in the cultural wilderness that is the modern public house. More power to them.

At The Steamer in Fleetwood last night we had an amplified jazz band to contend with, even so we had some choice trombone solos coming through midst our salty balladry...