“Drunkenness is a strange thing,” says Brad Foskett, preparing to entertain a gaggle of regulars at The Black Cat in Bedminster, south Bristol. “It can be happy, or it can be violent.” With a relentless schedule of pub singing that saw him have just a single weekend free from performance last year, the assumption is that Foskett has seen plenty of both. As he sings, the glumness of a late February afternoon begins to lift with every passing song.