Sigh.

If you had bothered to read the read, extremely tedious Anonymous Guest, it would be obvious that I had said all along that I had never got round to entering the Lewes Arms, though I'd been at the Royal Oak many times (and described it as one of the best venues I have ever visited, though as Captain Ginger says, it's one of a very few thriving 'clubs' left). And I 'know' who the people are behind the quaint hat and mollusc pseudonyms. And I've never said anything against what goes on at the Lewes Arms, having heard a great deal from many who have been there, both as booked artists and punters.

What I am criticising, as I ofttimes do, is the wholly unrealistic anachronism beloved of so many organisers in the very odd, extremely peculiar other-world of died-in-the-wool, tankard weilding f*lkies. Yes, I've had some extremely embarrassing experiences of dragging people I've met at a festival (for example) to a club to see someone they've seen and liked at an LNE and watched their astonished faces mouthing 'What the fuck is this?' And they vow never ever to enter a folk club again. And I can't blame them.