I'd also throw in playing at a Licensed Victualers function near Lancaster a number of years ago.
I won't name the venue, as someone could be really upset if it turned up on Google.
The 60's cabaret band I was playing with at the time noticed a disturbance about 60 feet away in the distance across the dancefloor and someone motioned for us to stop playing. One of the guitarists walked over to have a look and came back to pronounce that some poor chap had keeled over at the edge of the dancefloor. It didn't look at all good: "Brown bread" he said. Oh Sh*t.
We stayed around the stage as a few people rushed around to sort things out. The DJ who we worked with quite regularly when we played there was taking advantage of the fact that his ever-present girlfriend wasn't there that night and was esconsed upstairs in a room, "conversing at length" in a redced-clothing situation with another young lady.
He wasn't around to put any quiet mood music on, so the organisers asked us to carry on playing. The scene across the dance floor was looking worse. Chap not getting up, his wife was hysterical, not at all good or at all conducive to playing. BUT, we soldiered on as instructed, to the disbelief of about 75 of the punters. Some callous pigs actually were dancing within 10 feet of the guy, while his wife could be heard crying above the band. Appalling.
Next song on list - Heartbeat. I don't think so...
Fortunately, the Ambulance people came in, waved quite firmly for us to stop as they entered.
That was it, game over. Never have I been so relieved to see the uniforms turn up.