In the early Sixties I knew a fellow named Alex who said he was an actor. Maybe true, but I don't really know what he had ever acted in, and for an actor, he certainly had a lot of free time while most of the live theaters in town were presenting plays. But he talked a good line. And he was brimming over with unsolicited advice for various kinds of performers, including me. He had strong views about what he considered to be "professionalism."
Once, he had an absolute cat-fit after seeing a local presentation of the road show production of "The Music Man." It seems that Robert Preston had blown a line. He attempted to cover it, but the goof was obvious. The play went on, and within a few seconds, the audience had forgotten it and was back into the story. Except Alex. He raged for days about Preston's "lack of professionalism!" As if no actor ever before had boo-booed a line on stage.
Anyway, it was an article of faith with Alex that the performer had the obligation of catching his (Alex's) attention by presenting him with something that would capture his interest. Otherwise, it was his privilege to simply ignore them.
One evening, while I was singing in "The Corroboree," Alex came in and sat down with group of other people. Obviously, on that occasion, I failed to offer him something to capture his interest, because he started talking with (at) the other people at the table in a very loud voice. Without his actually saying so, it was almost as if he were sending me a personal message: "Firth, I find you boring this evening!" The people at the table were embarrassed, and people at nearby tables were trying to shush him up. He studiously ignored them and continued holding forth with his bullhorn voice.
The Corroboree had a PA system. Not really intrusive, but it gave the sound of whoever was on the small stage a little boost. The mic was about two feet in front of where I sat. When I finished my current song, I learned over with my mouth about two inches from the mic and called,
"Alex!"
My voice boomed through the place like The Voice Of God! Alex looked up, startled.
I continued. "Alex! Shut the hell up!!"
The whole place burst into applause! Alex sat there for a second or two, looking around like a frightened rabbit, then got up and walked out, to another surge of applause.
I guess I finally captured his interest.
I never saw him again. Somehow, I don't really miss him.