I asked the landlady next time I was in the snug. She rolled her eyes, dragged out a sheaf of paper as thick as a Scotch egg and talked me through the detailed fine-tuning. "You can't just phone up the magistrate for your late-night extension on New Year's Eve any more," she said. "You've got to tick loads of boxes about health and safety and the rest of it. You've got to apply in advance. Temporary Event Notification [TEN], they call it. Go in person for your hearing. Got to flipping pay for it as well. I thought I might as well apply for more than just the one while I was there, to save time come the May Fayre. They've got no idea, these people objecting."
I inspected some of the objections from my village neighbours – to the granting of said licence. Gosh, they were brutal. But I had to schlepp around and make an effort to see how stingingly rude some people can be. Not like now.