Less than 2,500 years after 300 Spartans took on about two million Persians out of sheer bloody-mindedness, it seems many of the world's most revered members have turned into a bunch of snivelling wet-wipes.
We've all heard stories about the great and the good crying off for no good reason, such as the baseball player that missed a game in 1974 because he'd slept on his eye funny and the Girls Aloud cretin that made the band an hour late for a gig because she couldn't get her pet Chihuahua out of the van.
So the heart sank when news filtered through on Monday night that
acoustic songstress Juliana Meyer was involved in a titanic battle with flu in a lonely room at the back of the 100 Club. But rather than feel sorry for herself backstage - and possibly make a small fort out of wadded tissues and Beechams boxes - the sturdy songwriter strapped on her guitar and fought off the ravages of illness in front of around 100 appreciative punters. For that alone, she deserves at least a six out of ten here.
Juliana's brand of fluttering, range-taxing vocals must be a nightmare to pull off at the best of times, never mind when you feel like your throat's being strimmed by a gang of hedgehogs pushing a lawnmower. But those friends, fans and family who turned up to hear the talented performer launch her debut album were not disappointed by either the musicianship or determination on show.
Aside from a small water break in the first ten minutes, Juliana showed little sign of fading, leading her nine-piece band through her repertoire of songs without fear of high notes or tricky trills. Holding Up The Sky is a collection of fragile, wistfully melodic songs which require a light touch. And the addition of instruments such as two violins, a trumpet and a piano worked well when used on stage, adding an extra dimension to the acoustic-led set without clogging the tracks with noise like a drunk parent singing along at a pre-school nativity play.
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The Oxford Street club is a venue crammed with history, and has welcomed artists such as The Rolling Stones and Muddy Waters on stage in bygone decades. But so many former pals from Juliana's teenage days in Colchester turned up to offer support that a potentially-intimidating launch took on the close-knit vibe of a family barbecue. In fact, the atmosphere was so relaxed that no one even raised an eyebrow when the support act turned out to be a poet.
Luke Wright wandered off on a five-day tour of motorway service stations last July with his poetry collective, an odd choice which turns out to be an ideal home for this modern-day bard. Rather than wandering flightily through Xanadu or skipping around fields of golden daffodils, you're more likely to see Luke's muse stomping on shoppers at Ikea or circling the M25 looking for a Welcome Break. And once everyone had bought a round and settled into the evening, the Edinburgh Festival performer had attracted more than a few new fans amongst the teeming crowd.
Luke, a one-time schoolfriend of Juliana, was on stage at the end to lead calls for an encore. And while it's true that she wouldn't have glimpsed many unfamiliar faces in the 100 Club that night, her guts and her performance deserved every last clap.
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