WHILE preparing tomorrow's Memories about the linen industry that once thrived on the banks of the Tees, all I could see in the back of my mind was the irrepressibly cheery face of comic Michael McIntyre.

This raised my hackles because I couldn't immediately see the connection.

But then it clicked: linen workers used heckles in their work and Mr McIntyre was abused by a heckler in his work, at the Darlington Civic.

But how does a linen worker become a front row tease?

Linen is made out of fibres of flax, a plant. To get to the fibres, the plant stalk has to be broken open – or scutched – so that the fibres can be combed out – or heckled – by a heckler using a heckle.

It wasn't until the 1880s that this ancient practice changed its meaning and entered the field of politics. "To heckle" meant "to severely question a Parliamentary candidate in public".

One explanation for this change is that, just like the flax, the candidate was broken open by the heckler so that the fibre of his being was revealed and the truth about his policies was combed out.

A further explanation is that this raucous public examination began in Dundee, where the hecklers in the jute industry were noted for shouting about their radical politics at anyone who disagreed with them.

Now, of course, a heckler is anyone who shouts out when someone else is speaking, be they a politician or a comedian.

SUNDERLAND were so severely heckled by Southampton on Saturday that they let in eight goals for only the fourth time in their 135-year history, and the players have been so badly heckled by the media – "humiliated, embarrassed and disgraced", began The Northern Echo's report – that they are refunding the supporters' ticket costs.

Sunderland's first 8-0 defeat was on Boxing Day 1911, and I wondered what colourful language the paper had used more than 100 years ago.

Sheffield Wednesday at their Owlerton stadium inflicted the defeat, and it came in the middle of a run of five festive fixtures in eight days – a modern player would probably find such a schedule tiring.

"Nearly as bad as 9-1," said the Echo's headline on the match report. "Sunderland's tale of woe – a complete debacle." I can only think that this refers to December 5, 1908, when Sunderland travelled to Newcastle and thrashed them 9-1.

The reporter at the Owlerton spoke of Sunderland's "frightful trouncing" and of their "worst beating".

There were mitigating circumstances, though. Sunderland captain Charlie Thomson had to leave the field of play after 20 minutes due to injury when the score was 1-0, and as substitutes weren't allowed, his team had to play on with ten men. "Sheffield then commenced to play ducks and drakes with the visitors' defence," said the Echo, and by half-time it was 7-0.

The Sunderland goalkeeper was Walter Scott, who was hospitalised with concussion by the end of the match. He, poor fellow, conceded 11 goals in four matches at the start of the next season, causing the fans to heckle him so badly from the terraces that he was sacked for "palpable inefficiency" – "you're so palpably inefficient it's unbelievable", as they might have sung at Roker Park. Sunderland went on to win the title.