Ooohh ... where do I start ... the gig at a folk club in a long, thin bar where the sound man was one end and we the other, and the audience largely made up of tired, drunk and emotional clowns on the Sunday night of a Clowns' Convention? (No, really, they were clowns, with the noses and feet and everything ...we ended up giving one of them a lift back to London and it was hard getting his feet into the back of the car). Or the St Pat's night when Mary was singing a traditional song at her most soulful in Irish and a man came up to the mic and asked us aggressively to sing something really Irish, like "Molly Malone"? We all have our tales to tell. Someone once advised me to treat them all as JAFGE ... Just Another F**&^* Growth Experience. Or simply a Bad Day at the Office.