I have posted on this previously, but I think it worth a reprise.

There used to be (might still be, for all I know) a brilliant sesiun in the Ducie, just behind the University Theatre, in Manchester.

I was asked to give a song one Sunday lunchtime, a rare privilege in a predominantly instrumental sesiun.

I sang "The Rambling Ulsterman", and some cretin, with a square bodhran - it's as true as I am writing this - joined in, giving a rhythmic (?) accompaniment to my unacompanied singing.

Just what I wanted - how did I ever sing "The Rambling Ulsterman" without it ?

Then one of the musicians said "If you don't stop playing that fucking bodhran while Bryn is singing the song I asked hom to sing, I shall take it and shove it up your arsehole !".

The pillock asked me afterwards "You didn't mind me playing whiule you were singing, did you, Bryn ?"

I just looked at him, and those who know me personally will understand that the look I gave him spoke louder than words can.

Onew of the reasons Erica and I don't go to folk club any more is that good manners, which was one thing which distinguished our music from other forms, has gone to fuck in the past 10 years.