Crimes against humanity and high culture were committed last week, as the unmistakable sound of an iPhone’s ‘Marimba’ ringtone resounded through a concert hall during a particularly stirring performance by the New York Philharmonic Orchestra of Mahler’s Ninth symphony.

Just as the audience prepared themselves for the soaring crescendo, one member in the front row had unfortunately forgotten to switch off his mobile. In a fit of (albeit completely justified) anger, the conductor stopped the performance dead and remonstrated with the offender.

“Are you finished?” he asked, sarcastically. “Fine, we’ll wait.”

After a lengthy pause, during which the audience reportedly called for the man’s head, the conductor apologised to the audience, explaining that “such an egregious disturbance” had to be addressed; “it’s usually best to ignore it otherwise”.

It’s not the first time that mobile phones have landed all kinds of performers in hot water before, as well as their viewing audiences. Here are more examples of people who should’ve just left the phone at home.

Russell Crowe

Admittedly, this one was a hotel’s landline phone – but an unfortunate hotel worker still found himself on the receiving end of a telephonic tantrum by Maximus the Gladiator himself. In 2005, Crowe was arrested and charged with assault and criminal possession of a weapon – the telephone! He was later conditionally discharged from a New York court.

Shaun Murphy

As if being down by fourteen frames to seven in the final of snooker’s World Championship wasn’t enough, poor Shaun Murphy had to contend with a ringing mobile, too! As he prepared to take a particularly tricky shot back in 2009, The Whiston Warrior was thrown off and had to break away from the action for a few moments as that Nokia ringtone blared out at Sheffield’s Crucible Theatre. It could’ve been worse for Murphy, who lost 18-9 – Dom Joly could’ve answered it and put everyone off their game.

Richard Griffiths

You might not think that turning up to the theatre and watching an uninterrupted performance is pie in the sky, but on no less than two separate evenings has old Uncle Monty had to take action over a total of nine mobile-related disturbances.

During a 2004 run of The History Boys at the National Theatre, Griffiths grew aggravated as a man’s phone rang six times. One year later, he ordered a woman off the premises during the penultimate scene in a matinee of Heroes.

“Is that it?” he barked from the stage, “Or will it be ringing some more?”