A few years ago, I was at court: I believe it was the first time I had ever attended Coronation. Everyone is there in their best garb, we're sitting in the back next to the musicians playing medieval woodwinds, everyone is trying their best to impress the King. From the stage, the Herald announces the award that has just been given, there is applause and a hearty "Vivat!", and then a respectful silence falls and the Herald takes a breath to call the next worthy into court. But before he does ...
Brrrt, brrrt!Brrrt, brrrt!
... someone's cell phone rings! Now, we're supposed to have turned our phones off when we got to the event, but whoever this guy is, he's forgotten. And now the poor sap is in a bind. He doesn't want to keep interrupting Court, but he certainly doesn't want to do anything obvious that will prove he was the cause of the problem -- like reaching into his pocket to turn it off. So he waits, hoping whoever's calling him will get the hint and hang up.
Brrrt, brrrt!Brrrt, brrrt!
They don't. The phone keeps ringing. The owner keeps trying to pretend he doesn't know where the noise is coming from. The Herald wonders whether he can talk loud enough to overpower the buzzing, or whether it would be less distracting to break character and say something horribly modern like "Please turn your cell phone off".
Brrrt, brrrt!Brrrt, brrrt!
Then His Magesty comes to the rescue. He stands, looks down into the front row where the phone's owner is trying to sink into his chair cushions, and says in a loud, clear voice:
"Will no-one tread on that blasted cricket?!"
Now the guilty party has a way out of his dilemna. He stands up and makes a great show of stomping on the floor, while quietly reaching into his pocket to turn off the phone in mid-chirp:
Brrrt, b-STOMP!
Quiet descends at last. He bows to His Magesty, sits back down, and tries to avoid being noticed for the rest of the day. There is applause, the Herald finally calls the next person into Court, and everything returns to normal.
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