L’evidence : I don’t have any but we’ve all been there. We’re talking small venues, theatre gigs – obviously this kind of person can’t make any impact in a stadium.The song ends, applause dies down and then some wanker thinks that’s the moment for him to try and entertain the crowd.

“Yer a legend, wha?!”

“We love you [artist name]!”

“Play [song that artist is most well known for]! I’ll buy ye a pint!”

“Nice pants/suit/hair/beard/glasses!”

The list of ludicrous unfunny things that these people say is neverending. They don’t understand when people around them start cringing, their toes curling. All they hear is the occassional titter from the few ‘tards in the audience who don’t realise they’re listening to somebody who, if they spent 45 years studying how not to be funny, couldn’t be any less amusing than they are now.

This person does attract the odd critic who almost always kicks in with a timely ‘Shuddup the fuck, wouldya?’, but nothing prevents our pal from shouting stuff. He couldn’t shuddup the fuck even if he wanted to. But of course he doesn’t want to. He plays the crowd for laughs, gets a few, but the one thing he should get he never does.

SuperAIDS.

Le Verdict : Yeah, I know “we’re not in mass here”, but I didn’t come to listen to you barking like a spasticated Frank Carson. Shut your fucking mouth or fuck off to the International to heckle some stand-up on open mic night or something, you blathering, as funny as being raped by an ogre Le Cunt.

Bonus Le Cunt : People who talk constantly during a gig. If you wanted to chat to your friend about your period then you could just have easily stayed in the pub, you pig-ignorant, disrespectful, shitewaffling Le Cunt.