Not technically a heckle, but....
Many moons ago (circa 1984), just prior to the advent of karaoke, a friend of mine had discovered that a local pub ran what was known as a 'Free And Easy' every other Sunday night. The premise of this, was that the microphone was open to anyone - for a small fee - to get up and sing two songs, with whoever was voted best on the night winning the accumulated entrance fees. As my friend fancied himself as something of a chantoose, he was very keen to give it a whirl, and persuaded a group of us to go along and support him.... As I mentioned, this was pre-karaoke, so all accompaniment was provided by an ageing drummer and an equally decrepit female organist. The standard of the singing was in some cases actually quite good, which was entertaining, down to the absolutely dire, which for obvious reasons, was even more so.
Anyway, word quickly spread about the event, and by the third time we went, the pub (The Stocks in Warrington in case you're interested) was packed to the rafters. Takings must have quadrupled overnight...
The Landlord, obviously realising he had hit upon something here, decided to cater for his new-found clientele, and jazz things up a little.This included providing a compere to act as master of ceremonies for the evening's proceedings...
Picture if you will, a recently liberated inmate from Auschwitz, wearing a demob suit that would have looked 'roomy' on Bernard Manning, and you're only at the tip of the iceberg...this guy was to hosting an event of this magnitude, as the Queen Mother was to all-in wrestling...
Another inspired idea on the part of mine host, was to introduce a 'Guess The Song' competition - little realising that most of us were already doing this whilst the acts performed.
One particular evening, we had got there early and secured seats for the coming laugh-riot that the fortnightly debacle had become, and the place rapidly filled to capacity.
Enter our compere to warm things up. In his hands he clutches an envelope with the letter 'Y' on it. He then proceeds to move around the pub thrusting his microphone under the noses of the crowd and asking them to guess the title of the song within the envelope, which does indeed begin with a Y. Most people are happy to hazard a guess - little realising that if correct, in order to win that evening's 'bumper' rollover prize of 15 quid, one had to get up and sing at least one verse of the song in order to claim one's booty. Those of us that had been in preceding weeks were all too well aware of this fact and therefore somewhat reluctant to partake in case we guessed successfully....

It was at this point that the MC decides to stick the microphone rather unceremoniously into the face of one of our number, Alan, who, whilst having a reputation for being the life and soul in familiar company, is painfully shy in front of a room full of strangers.
"Any ideas son?" booms Alan's nemesis.
"Fuck off" mumbles Alan reticently.
Unfortunately for the MC, the mic is so far into Alan's face that the entire pub (and probably the neighbouring estate)hear his response.
In an attempt at a witty rejoinder, the compere snatches the mic back, and in an effort to defuse the situation shout's "No son, it begings with a Y!", then makes the fatal mistake of thrusting the mic back into Alan's face, for the reply "WHY don't you fuck off?"

Oh, how we chortled....
(Desolation Angel, Sun 9 Apr 2006, 13:35, Reply)