I was in Winchester last weekend. I did the full tourist bit: King Arthur's Round Table, Jane Austen's rectangular grave, King Canute's box, the statue of Alfred the Cake.
While visiting the cathedral, I decided to kill time by playing my favourite cathedral game. This involves finding a large, echoey section of the building, then suddenly barking out a single, loud, strangulated cough, as if choking on a cat. As the echoes die down, I start looking around, as if trying to work out where the cough came from, while the cathedral's ushers frantically scour the vicinity in search of the irreverent trouble-maker (or the poor soul choking on a cat).
I must say, the Winchester ushers (unlike their slow-coach colleagues at Ely, Durham and York) were certainly on their toes. Two of them were on the scene in seconds. I only managed to throw them off my scent by pointing out a suddenly remarkably interesting memorial plaque to Jen, while she informed me that I was a fucking idiot.