Devotion. Strange thing isn’t it? As an example, more than 50 people, aged between 90 and 135, recently queued outside the New Theatre in Oxford to buy front-row tickets for the Irish crooner Daniel O’Donnell (his two shows are at the end of April).

For more than 52 hours they camped out, on – of all nights – a Thursday and Friday, along George Street (Oxford nightlife’s answer to Beirut), just so they could be closer to their idol.

Of course, as you doubtless know, Mr O’Donnell commands an astonishing loyalty among his legion of fans, and especially those born in the early 19th century.

And, frankly, how people of this age choose to spend their time is their business (so long as it doesn’t hurt or corrupt say, anyone in their 60s).

But what I found so compelling about this story was that: 1. Anyone in this day and age should still be able to exert this kind of Messiah-like devotion (except maybe the Pope and Katie Price), and 2. The reaction of local people and businesses to this bizarre phenomenon.

Now, as for Mr O’Donnell’s obvious attractions, I will say only this – if I were 89 and infirm, I might like him too.

However, what is truly revealing is how members of the local emergency services, licensing trade, and catering industry reacted.

Indeed, let me quote from one Salisbury woman who did wait patiently for her O’Donnell thrill. She said: “The kebab van across the road brought us over free chips and the nightclub opposite came out with warm drinks.

“Even the police said they would fetch us hot water from the station if we needed it.” Extraordinary.

But if that weren’t enough, she then went on to praise the whole city – “We are very grateful to everybody who made our stay so enjoyable,” she added.

Like George Street on a Friday night compares to the Malmaison or Randolph hotels.

At this rate, the city council will have to start leaving a guest book at both the top and bottom of the road.

You know, outside Nando’s and Debenhams, so people can leave their signatures and thoughts, like you do when you visit a church or National Trust property.

For example: ‘Shane, 21, Banbury – Got smashed, got off with a right sl**per, and threw up outside the Odeon...’ Or: ‘Paris, 17, Abingdon – Alcopop-ped all night, right good, dropped me pants in front of a copper, snogged Schezzy...’ It could help boost tourism.

Nevertheless, I did think it was hugely revealing that staff at the kebab van and nearby club became so devoted to these O’Donnellers (and good on them for that).

The police I’d have expected it from, but can you think of a greater clash of cultures than little old ladies, all mumsy and snugly wrapped in home-made woollens, getting cups of coffee and plates of chips brought over to them by those whose very job it is to feed and fuel the Friday rampage? Because I can’t.

Hey, maybe it’s the Daniel effect?