30: Snow

THE FOLLOWING TOOK PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 13.30 and 22.00 ON SATURDAY DECEMBER 19th 2010...

13.30 - BARWELL, LEICESTERSHIRE

I open my door and stride into the cool winter air. I'm prepared for a tricky journey - being a plucky BBC employee I've seen the weather reports and instead of lying in bed all afternoon catching up on my sleep I'm leaving early for my gig in central London. Plan is pretty much this:

1: Drive the two hours to London
2: Possibly see some snow showers
3: Not worry about #2 because I'm a mighty human in a car
4: Get to London
5: Find a pub
6: Watch Leicester City beat Ipswich Town on TV in said pub entirely populated by chirpy cockneys eating Pie and Mash
7: Do gig and make much mirth
8: Go home, finished for Christmas and happy with my lot.

As I leave there is a light dusting of snow. I smile to myself, thinking about how Christmassy it looks. Bless.

14.00 - LUTTERWORTH, LEICESTERSHIRE

Journey so far is a piece of piss. Nobody on the road as people are warned off the road by what I wittily call "scaremongering". It's only some snow. And besides, I'm on the M1 already and smashing it down to London. I think about how I'll show off to my London based comedy chums, listening to them talking of struggling on the tube when I've travelled 120 miles - like a green room version of the Four Yorkshiremen Monty Python sketch.

At this point I am planning my dinner. I reckon Mexican, somewhere near Embankment.

14.15 - DAVENTRY, NORTHAMPTONSHIRE

It's snowing a little bit, but is clearly no match for my mighty iron steed. Brrrrrrm.

14.30 - NORTHAMPTON, NORTHAMPTONSHIRE

The snow has stopped. Stupid fucking weather forecasts. Although I am buoyed by knowing I'll be well early, clever little monkey that I am.

15.00 - NEWPORT PAGNELL, BUCKINGHAMSHIRE

Quite need a wee, but pass the services knowing that Toddington has a Marks and Spencer and they do wasabi peas. Besides, I know I'll be there in 15 minutes or so.

15.01 - 1 MILE BEYOND NEWPORT PAGNELL, BUCKINGHAMSHIRE

How come it's so cloudy and foggy and that all of a sudden?

15.02 - 1 MILE BEYOND NEWPORT PAGNELL, BUCKINGHAMSHIRE

Fuck me, it's snowing like a bastard.

15.05 - 3 MILES BEYOND NEWPORT PAGNELL, BUCKINGHAMSHIRE

Ah, it's slowing down. Besides, the roads seem fine.

15.10 - JUNCTION 14, M1

Probably no point getting off here now, traffic is sluggish but it's bound to be a little congested. I laugh at the saps queuing to leave the M1. MORE MOTORWAY FOR ME, FUCKERS!

15.11 - ABOUT THREE FEET PAST JUNCTION 14, M1

More snow.

15.12 - ABOUT THREE FEET PAST JUNCTION 14, M1

More snow than backstage at a Motley Crue concert. In Switzerland. Midwinter.

15.13 - AS ABOVE

A car in front makes a bold move and drives forwards, then sideways, then into a barrier. I laugh in the style of a man who is mildly aware that he's fucked. Still have over four and three quarter hours to showtime. Pride myself on leaving early enough, although do briefly think I may miss City's scintillating start in Ipswich. Everything is bound to clear up soon.

15.20 - TWO FEET ON

I have spent the previous seven minutes getting excited every minute when the car in front moves a couple of centimetres. Have decided that the man in the car in front is a twat for the following reasons:

A: He has a personalised plate. Not a good one, like J1MMY or something like that. One so obscure that only he knows that it refers to the time he was born and the initials of his dog or some shit.
B: He's driving a car with too much torque, so it's struggling to get the power down on the snow. I have no idea what this means, but I've watched Top Gear.
C: He is leaving TOO MUCH ROOM BETWEEN HIM AND THE CAR IN FRONT.

15.30 - ANOTHER TWO FEET

Now swearing at the radio. Thanks to the weather I'm having to listen to Blackburn vs West Ham. Laugh briefly when the commentator describes Avril Grant as having a hang-dog expression. His face is the actual dictionary definition of the phrase.

16.00 - ANOTHER TEN FEET

Start inventing new swearwords for the people in Four Wheel Drives who seem to think its acceptable to drive on the hard shoulder merely because they have bigger wheels. And secretly regret buying a tiny little Ford Fiesta and giving a flying fuck about fuel economy. The best words I've invented thus far are "festwich", "clinth" and "banzunt".

16.30 - ANOTHER FIFTEEN FEET

Brief sense of excitement of hitting 8mph for three seconds is ruined by looking in my rearview mirror and realising that I have moved absolutely clinthing nowhere.

16.45 - NO PROGRESS

Start going through the cartoon cycle of despair. I've pretty much exhausted anger, I'm now onto wanting to weep. On the verge of tears until I watch a man climb out of his stationary car and walk to the hard shoulder to urinate. He steps onto what he thinks is a grass verge and vanishes up to his waist in snow. I laugh so hard that I stall the car and he definitely notices.

17.00 - ANOTHER TEN FEET

Match kicks off in 20 minutes. Have a feeling I may miss it.

17.15 - ANOTHER TEN FEET

Gig kicks off in 165 minutes. Have a feeling I may miss it.

17.20 - ANOTHER TWO FEET

Small surge in movement makes me foolishly think that I can get to Luton then get a train to London. Because of course the UK is well known for its reliable railway network that can cope with any small problem and is in no way ever delayed because of a wet leaf here and there, let alone a fucking blizzard of biblical proportions.

17.30 - ANOTHER TEN FEET

Cancel gig. Worry about the money I won't be earning that I may have already spent on tattoos, cake and hats.

17.35 - NO CHANGE

Realise that even with the gig cancelled I'm still not going anywhere. Wonder if I have a junior hacksaw to cut through the barrier and do a U-turn. Google Maps tells me that, with traffic, I'm over 90 minutes from the next junction. Which is three miles away. Fuck my life.

18.00 - TWO AND THREE QUARTER MILES TO JUNCTION 13

Man in front with private plate gets stuck. I watch him for a bit and then get out and push him as he accelerates. He moves on and I shout "I AM THOR! STRONGEST MAN IN THE UNIVERSE!" as a white van driver stares at me, agog.

18.15 - TWO AND A HALF MILES TO JUNCTION 13

Listening to 606 as City are already two down. Can only tolerate it for two minutes at a time before I either want to punch the listeners or Robbie Savage in the face.

18.30 - TWO AND A QUARTER MILES TO JUNCTION 13

Weeping.

18.45 - TWO MILES TO JUNCTION 13

Get deeply annoyed that the kids in the car next to me are watching a DVD. Try to keep pace with them to watch it over their shoulders but am blocked by a pie van. It was Toy Story 3 as well.

19.00 - ONE AND THREE QUARTER MILES TO JUNCTION 13

Remember how much I need to urinate. Consider sneaking onto the hard shoulder to relieve myself but then look at temperature gauge and realise that if I do so my penis will actually shrink back up inside me like a too-wide bellybutton.

19.15 - ONE AND HALF MILES TO JUNCTION 13

Everyone else has started using the hard shoulder as a lane and I no longer care about my strict adherence to the highway code. I'd drive over a sweet old lollipop lady if it got me to that fucking junction a minute sooner.

19.30 - ONE AND A QUARTER MILES TO JUNCTION 13

Screaming.

19.40 - ONE MILE TO JUNCTION 13

A SIGN! A MOTHERFUCKING SIGN FOR A JUNCTION!

19.50 - HALF A MILE TO JUNCTION 13

The traffic seems to be sorting itself into wheat and chaff. Chaff being the people choosing to stay on the M1, wheat being people like me who are leaving the M1 with no plan at all. Note that the other side of the M1 is equally fucked. I had not thought about that. Arses.

20.00 - EXITING THE M1 VIA JUNCTION 13

Start singing "Take on Me" by A-Ha in celebration at getting to 15mph. Realise I have no plan at all. I can go to Bedford or Milton Keynes. I reason that the easy road layout of Milton Keynes would be the best option to get me to the A5 and my steady route home.

20.15 - SOMEWHERE IN MILTON KEYNES

Whoever designed this place was fucking mental.

20.30 - STILL IN MILTON KEYNES

Seriously, how could you pick out landmarks in this place? Even if the entire concrete monstrosity wasn't covered in bastard fucking snow?

20.45 - THE A5, HEADING NORTH

Somehow a single lane A-road is better gritted, salted and cleared than a major motorway. Although the Little Chef is closed and an Olympic Breakfast would be awesome right now.

21.00 - STILL THE A5

Hit a bump in the snow. A bit of wee comes out.

21.15 - DAVENTRY

The snow just fucks off. Seriously. Vanishes. Like I'm playing a bad video game.

22.00 - PARENTS HOUSE

Throw myself on the mercy of my mum and dad. Beg for food, shelter and somewhere to have a wee.

22.05 - PARENTS HOUSE

Piss like a racehorse.

22.10 - PARENTS HOUSE

Relax on sofa. Try not to think about what I could have done with the 8 and a bit hours I've spent in the car. Deeply troubled by the lack of snow in Leicestershire. After my day I want to build a snowman just so I can punch it in its stupid fucking carroty face.

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