Sal and I and the rest of Rapsquillion did an open stage the other night. There was everything from a brass band to a Russian singing dirges of the homeland, via a group of young Spanish girls doing some kind of salsa dance and one of the organisers' nine-year old playing a cornet.

We were asked to do a second spot to close the show and immediately before us was the familiar spotty youth with Fender, yelling into the mike. The MC had told him he could do two numbers but when he'd finished he bawled to the corner where his mates were 'Do you want some more!...' They of course shouted that they did and, when the MC said that there wasn't time, the lad slung his guitar across the stage shouted that 'you can all fuck off then!' and kicked his way through the tables back to his mates.

Imagine us shuffling on stage to do our set including our brand of rousing non-conformist, close(ish)harmony, hymns, waiting for the bottles to start flying.

It didn't happen but Sal was shaking for a couple of hours - character building or what.