Many years ago I was based at the Royal Navy’s Clyde Submarine Base in Northern Scotland. A piper from one of the British Army’s Scottish regiments was seconded to the base and played at the many ceremonial events the R.N. liked to hold. This was the R.N. way of demonstrating its cultural sensitivity – Yes, we run our nuclear submarines up and down your loch, but we do play your kind of music. The piper was the most hated man on base, mostly because his musical talent was negligible – the regiment would not have sent us their best piper, now would they? – but also because he insisted upon playing the pipes at the most inopportune moments. His pipes were stolen, hung from the mainmast, filled with various and sundry liquids, and shot from a ceremonial field gun. I do not recall whether the man was an alcoholic when he joined us, but he surely was by the time he left.