Just outside a small village in Yorkshire is a hill, and at the top is a canon. By tradition going back several hundred years, the canon was fired every night at midnight. (It probably commemorated some battle or other which took place way back) One night the designated canon firer was suddenly taken ill and had no time to find a substitute: consequently an age old tradition was broken: the canon was not fired. As one, the entire population of the village sat up in bed at midnight and said,"By 'eck, what was that?"