I used to run a club at a rural pub in Kent, and we used to meet in the barn behind the main building. Most of the year, it was quite convivial, but in the winter months it became hard work for both performers and audience alike. One cold night in January, I arrived to find that the landlord had tried to sort the problem for us, by lighting a fire in the centre of the (concrete) floor. For a while it was very cosy, but after an hour or so the smoke had filled the large roof void and had begun descending to our level. At first, you were only aware of it when you stood up, but eventually we had to evacuate the barn. Those who weren’t crying from the smoke were crying with laughter, but I guess you had to be there....