Rogue patrons have always spoiled the theatre experience (in today's movie theatres, patrons crunch noisily on potato crisps during poignant moments when silence should be golden). Clio, however, reported an Edwardian-era pest.

"A curtain-raiser with a decidedly melodramatic tendency made its first - and only - appearance at one of our theatres lately. The cast included one determined woman, her male companion, several worried ushers, a big policeman and a large gathering of resentful onlookers. The play was acted in the stalls, and the determined woman sustained the leading role. She wore a hat of most unfashionably large dimensions, adorned with a towering plume, the whole causing an obstruction to the view of the people seated in several rows behind her.

"When the curtain went up she was politely asked to remove her hat. Politeness, however, being of no avail, she was acidly urged to remove the obstruction, and finally loudly ordered to 'take it off' by the exasperated people sitting behind her.

"Remonstrances being of no result, first one usher, then another, each more politely voluble than the last, tried to improve her selfishness and ill manners. She simply sniffed. And her companion said things. Bitter things.

"Finally, the management had to resort to the majesty of the law in securing for their patrons a clear view of the play they had paid their money to enjoy, and so a big policeman, with the manners of a courtier, escorted the woman from the theatre without further trouble."