Danny Boy

I arrive at the nursing home to find a little old lady in a wheelchair, at the Crossing - we're talking a care home here, not Wells Cathedral, but still a stage of sorts.

She was singing. Danny Boy. And singing it very well, accurate soprano. Rather lovely.

"Mrs P," I said, "You have a lovely voice."

"YOU'RE A F****** LIAR!!" she replied. "JUST F*** O**!!"

Oh dear.