Harps and heavy metal do not make obvious bedfellows – yet that's exactly what you get from Harptallica, two elegant female harpists who play Metallica covers.

Surprisingly, just like salted butter caramel ice cream, it shouldn't work but it does, as I discovered when they played titchy Bristol venue The Croft.

Now, as you can imagine, volume-wise two harps make a very delicate sound – which was rudely drowned out by loud chatter from the audience.

Huddles of lads were nattering non-stop and laughing like they were down the pub. They made no attempt to whisper and even raised their voices to make themselves heard above the music we'd all paid to hear.

I opened my mouth to "shush" them, but stopped myself. Because you never know, do you?

You never know who that anti-social stranger is or what their reaction will be if you ask them to stop.

And you only have to open a newspaper or watch the news to know that such simple requests can end very badly.

I looked around for a staff member from the venue, but realised that in such an intimate setting it would be obvious who had complained, and again, I feared reprisals.

This happens all the time at gigs, theatres, cinemas – in short, anywhere you're supposed to be quiet.

And the craziest thing is, all of these incessant gabblers must have bought a ticket for the very performance or film they talk all the way through.

At gigs and plays in the past, after trying to block out the chatter and suffering in silence for ages, I've eventually asked the offenders politely to be quiet, and have usually got a two-word reply (the second being "off"). Every time, they looked staggered at my "audacity" to try to tell them what to do.

Because that's the key, isn't it? Too many people feel it's their God-given right to do what they want, when they want, and stuff everyone else.

But where are the theatre, music venue and cinema staff who should be swooping in to curb this anti-social behaviour?

Just this week at an intimate Cerys Matthews gig at St George's, one audience member's incessant bizarre disruptive antics were incredibly distracting, yet venue staff only approached her near the end of the two-hour concert after a brave audience member could stand it no longer, stood up and had a word with her himself.