Never let it be said that I’m a man closed off to new experiences, and so I decided to experiment with something called a ‘bus’.
I don’t know if you’ve seen or even chanced your arm on one of these contraptions, but they seem to be a cross between a motor coach and a Go-Kart.
Nah – I’ve been on plenty of buses in my time needless to say. They are, and always have been, my least favourite form of public transport and that’s because they’re easily the worst. They are one up from being pulled around by the hair. They are impossible to timetable because of traffic, it’s therefore impossible to know how long a journey will take, they’re fantastically uncomfortable, they’re uneconomical, they’re hotbeds of trouble, and they’re poor value for money. People argue they’re essential for people on a lower budget but that would only be true if an average journey cost 20p. Buses cost £1.20 for a couple of stops. They’re expensive if anything.
But today I thought of giving them another chance because I needed to pick up a hire car at Liverpool Airport. My own car’s gone on the blink and I needed to get to Huddersfield tonight to do a gig. I got a great deal from easycar.com for a nice new, and quite flash, Fiesta for £30. Anyway, there’s an express bus service running from Liverpool city centre out to the airport that I thought I might use instead of shelling out on a cab. This surely wouldn’t be like a normal, rubbish bus? This would be an express.
The other bonus is that I’d get to use our fancy-Dan new bus station that’s recently opened near the Paradise Street Development. I located the correct stand and saw on the monitor that I’d got a eighteen minute for the half hourly airport service. I used some of that spare time by going to the top floor of the new car park next door. It’s amazing how easy if it is to kill time if you’re drawn towards the mundane. Back at the bus stand, the monitor informed me I had four minutes still to wait. Then three. Two. One. But given a further five minutes, the bus still hadn’t arrived. Then it disappeared from the screen without any sort of transport arriving and I saw the next one displayed was due in thirty minutes.
Waste of time. That’s me done with buses. How do people get by on them? I walked in a huge strop to the nearest taxi rank.
Back at home this afternoon I tried to learn some new Pathetic Lot material for the Huddersfield gig tonight but instead of doing that properly decided it would be more interesting to ‘wing it’ instead. The gig was good, a new club above a smart bar called The Cotton Factory. Some bits worked better than others but it’s not a bad start to what will eventually be the Edinburgh show. Lots and lots and lots of work to do before August though.
I shared the car journey with a comedian called Paul Betney whom I’d not seen before but was fantastic. He suffers from a condition, the long and scientific name for which escapes me, that means he shakes quite violently the whole time. I’m sure he won’t mind me telling you. Obviously it makes for some great gags on stage. Every cloud, etc. His bit about men wandering what he’s doing when he’s standing at a urinal is priceless. Him describing himself sitting next to worried people on a plane also had me doubled up.
One of the musts of doing gigs around the country is it’s the LAW you must stop at a motorway service station in the middle of the night at some point on the way home. It’s all part of the gig. It’s more important than the gig. It’s part of the job and any comedian who arrogantly reckons he or she (no, let’s face it, he) thinks they can drive all the way home without stopping at a Moto or Welcome Break is a disgrace to their profession and not a proper comic.
Our choice tonight was the Moto on the M60 Manchester ring road headed towards Liverpool and the M62. Both Paul and I agreed it was one of the best service stations we’ve ever experienced, and seeing as it was past midnight, we had the run of the place. There are several things that mark out a great motorway service station for a merely mediocre one.
1. A complete fried breakfast should be available at any hour of the day or night. This goes without saying. Even if they’re out of everything else, like sandwiches or crisps, they must have an immense fry up available.
2. Said fry up, along with all other produce, must – again, by law – be so overpriced as to be almost artistic. I bought a smoothie, a coffee, a piece of cake and a bottle of water which came in at £13. This is perfect.
3. A wide range of audio books and spoken word CD’s must be available. These must look like a good idea at the time, despite being very expensive, but be something of a let down upon listening to them ten miles down the road.
4. There must be someone at a makeshift stand offering some sort of credit card deal. Even at 4am.
5. Any branch of W.H.Smiths or equivalent newsagent must accommodate visiting truckers by stocking a wide and unmatched stock of ‘gentleman’s literature’.
6. There must be gaming machines, both of the video game and gambling variety.
7. The toilets must have a strange voting machine installed which says ‘Are you happy with the appearance and condition of these facilities?’ And then Yes and No buttons for you to vote with. Not all service stations have this equipment but this Moto one did, giving it top marks.
8. A confusing entry and exit system that makes it too easy to head for the HGV area or worse and not the car park. The best example of this is the excellent Welcome Break on the eastbound carriage way of the M62 between Liverpool and Warrington. Unless you’re a trained fighter pilot you will miss the small sign telling you to go right and end up back on the motorway with a car full of kids about to urinate themselves.
Well done, Moto. You made two easy to please comedians very happy.
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