concert pianist Artur Pizarro is second to none! For years, those with a serious interest in Bermuda Festival performances have suffered a host of impolite distractions from others for whom such events are simply a night out.

Coughing, sneezing, nose-blowing, crackly candy wrappers, rattling sweets in plastic containers, stage whispers, untimely clapping, dropped keys, beeping watches and even gentle snoring are among the many ways a lovely performance has been ruined.

But when Mr. Pizarro rode into town it took him just 24 hours to come up with an effective solution.

So disturbed was this internationally acclaimed artist by the poor manners displayed by some of his Monday night audience that he decided to bite the bullet on Tuesday evening.

Arriving on City Hall stage immaculately groomed in formal concert attire, the tall, dark Mr. Pizarro graciously acknowledged the warm welcoming applause.

Then, opening the left side of his swallow-tailed coat, he carefully drew from its pocket a large, lurid pink and green water pistol.

Brandishing it above his head, the artist warned: "Last night we had some trouble with `audience participation,' so tonight I've come prepared. If you see someone in the interval with a wet shirt or dress front, you'll know who was responsible.'' Then, to nervous laughter from beyond the footlights, the gifted musician rested his "weapon'' on the piano with a wry smile and launched into a magnificent performance of Liszt's Sonata in B minor.

At its conclusion, which also signalled the interval, he picked up his pistol, blew teasingly on its muzzle, and departed for the dressing room.

Droll though Mr. Pizarro's ploy was, it worked like a charm. For the first time in recent memory the beauty of the music was heard in silence.