My personal worst has got to be doing The Wild Rover etc, under a tv showing Princess Di's funeral to a packed but morose bar. Half way through, an Irish gypsy family came in - they 'd been drinking (conservative estimate) for a couple of weeks before hitting this particular pub out in the wilds of Lincolnshire. The patriarchal leader grabs the microphone off me and says - don't worry pal! I'll get 'em going for ye! D'y know d' Fields of Athenry....?

I was past caring by one o'clock and I had to leave the gear after dinner time, and do an evening gig in the same place.