In Peril on the Highways

Of course, these days it is not really necessary to exercise extreme caution when approaching a stranger upon the thoroughfare – except, for obvious reasons, in Bolton – without first checking whether they have anything resembling one of the more recondite musical instruments on, or about, their person.

Back in the days of yore – as Samuel Johnson mentioned to Boswell one Tuesday morning as they made their way – post-haste – out of Kilmarnock – it was not uncommon for a traveller to fall foul of an itinerant bagpiper-wielder on some of the remote highland thoroughfares.

Not only that, it was not uncommon for travellers on the highways of England at around the same time to be waylaid by highwaymen armed with accordions, who – would threaten to inflict the instrument on anyone on the stagecoach who did not immediately had over their valuables with the then familiar, but dreaded, cry of 'Your money or the accordion!'

In the cities too, there were gangs of villains armed with banjos ready to inflict dreadful horrors on anyone who made the mistake of wandering down the wrong street, as well as huge gangs of orphan mandolin players ready to rob and steal from the crowds that thronged the towns, especially on market days.

Such was the fear of crime by musical instrument that deportation to the Colonies, and/or Luton, was introduced for anyone caught in possession of a harmonica with intent to cause grievous bodily harm.

However, it wasn't until the creation of the Bow Street Runners, and other such local constabularies throughout the rest of Britain, that this blight on civilisation was assuaged, at least until the invention of the recording contract a few centuries later.