Young Keith has just pointed out an unfair piece of discrimination on my part.
In Thomas Hardy's "Under the Greenwood Tree", he points out, the Quire wander around a scattered village after midnight, singing loudly and waking people up, and it's regarded as a venerable folk custom.
Whereas when he, under the influence of the same apple-based drink, started singing " Rudolph the red-nosed Reindeer" outside last night, his own nose was rendered like unto Rudolph's with my well-thrown tea pot.
Where, asks Young Keith, is the justice in that?
Now thinking about it, he's got a point. If he were wearing a smock-frock and carrying a lantern, it would be another matter.
In particular, he'd be much easier to see in the dark. I'd already thrown three mugs and an alarm clock before I hit him.