We braved the extreme weather to bring my unique blend of cock-based humour to the mustard eating people of Norwich.
There was some debate as to whether we would even make it through. The M11 had ground to a stand-still overnight and people had been trapped in their cars for up to 22 hours. Using our skill and judgement we decided to avoid the M11 and go via the A1 (M).
Conditions were far from perfect and the outside lane was generally still partially covered in thick slush, but we progressed at a reasonable pace. Simon was particularly enjoying the way that chunks of snow would randomly fly off the roofs of the cars in front and explode on to the road. He is a simple man in many ways. He had prepared well in case of the disaster that we too became trapped in traffic or snow, bringing a bottle of water and two king sized Snickers. But he had eaten one of these within the first fifty miles. He was also going to bring his sleeping bag, but had concluded (rightly) that in the event of emergency I would have nicked it off him, so he’d left it at home. How long could we survive on one (admittedly large) Snickers bar and holding on to one another to keep warm (was that his perverted plan all along)? It could very quickly descend into an “Alive” style scenario, and there’s not much meat on Simon, so after I had dispatched him and cooked him on the car radiator, I would be forced to consume my own (also admittedly small) legs.
It struck me that Simon must be thinking the same thing and I considered making a pre-emptive strike right there and then (despite our reasonable progress). That Snickers bar in his stomach would not even yet be digested, adding to his meagre calorific value.
Fortunately for Simon I remembered that I am not eating chocolate any more. I would have to wait until it was out of his system. He was lucky this time, I only had to be lucky once.
It was quite exciting, waiting for the moment when we wouldnÂ’t be able to go any further, pondering on whether we would be able to walk the last thirty miles with our equipment on our backs. We had to get through. We HAD to. But although we saw a few cars that had been abandoned or had veered off the roads I donÂ’t think we even got to a point where we were stationary in traffic. All the worries and the Snickers had been for nothing. I looked at Simon and thought how stupid I had been to have considered devouring him. A drive through a small amount of snow to Norwich can do strange things to a man.
Unfortunately even though I had risked my life and travelled hundreds of miles to get to the gig, the inhabitants of East Anglia were not so brave and I played to the smallest audience of the tour so far.
Apparently the next day they had some explorer coming to do a show at the theatre. He had crossed the icy plains of Siberia on his own. That afternoon he had rung up the theatre and asked what the conditions on the local roads were like. He was worried he wasnÂ’t going to be able to get through and should he cancel? HeÂ’d crossed Siberia and was worried about getting down the A505.
No amount of snow would stop me from getting to a gig. But next time IÂ’m going to employ a fatter tour manager.
