One of the most startling images in the incredible story of The Devil and Daniel Johnston isn't even in the movie: a young guy from a christian punk band recalls his disbelief on spotting his hero being attacked by dogs in the street in sleepy Waller, Texas.

It reminded me of when I was a kid and my dog would attack people with learning difficulties, and people with conspicuous mental disturbance. She would stop and point to begin with, as we walked along the beach head, or maybe on the dim path through Witch Wood. Then hackles rising and a low growl from her throat, escalating as the source of fear approached. Rude dogs, leather-clad cruisers in the bushes, potential paedos; she never turned a hair, and yet I remember her running teeth bared at a little boy with Down's Syndrome as his terrified parents looked on. As always I managed to grab her and get her chain on before anything really terrible happened. It was a complete nightmare, and when I'd tell people about it they'd look at me in horror like the whole problem was a metaphor for some dreadful prej udice of my own that I was projecting onto my dog.

Of course it could have been that the dogs attacking Daniel were rabid or something, and maybe my dog was simply unpredictable; either way, lets face it the connection between the two cases is suspiciously tenuous. The christian punk outfit read a lot into the experience anyway, staying in Waller to record some Fuck Satan songs in their front room with Johnston. Before that they had been wondering why the hell they'd relocated there; now they know.