No smell of sea air on the M11, just the stench of diesel and the heat of other drivers tempers on a Friday evening.
I have strategies for dealing with sitting in traffic. I go over my set for the show. I try to think of gigs that have gone well to put me in the right frame of mind. I put the radio on. I never listen to talk shows though as I get caught up in the emotion of it all. I once sat outside a gig for fifteen minutes listening to the end of a talk show. Another act knocked on the window and asked why I hadn’t got out. I explained that I was waiting to see if Andrea from Coventry was going to get back with her boyfriend. He looked confused and walked away. I realised I was becoming fixated with talk radio. Nowadays I listen to upbeat music
It passes the time when I am sitting on the M11 trying to work out if I can go 58 miles in an hour. Course I can.
 It is tempting sometimes to think about taking an early exit and rejoining the motorway later on. But I would have to look at the map and I am a man and that would be a sign of weakness. No, I cannot get help for I am a hunter. Not for me assistance from bits of paper, I can rely on my innate instincts to navigate. I know my ancestors didn’t get about with maps, they used the stars. It is raining on the M11 and the stars have all gone home. Maybe I should think about leaving the motorway?
I ring Rudi Lickwood for advice, on the hands free kit of course. I explain situation and he reminds me that the last time I took a shortcut to avoid traffic I added two hours to a forty-minute journey! Okay I will stay put and be patient.
The Traffic on the M11 is still not moving.
I look at the other drivers and wonder where they are going and why they can’t just move aside as I am clearly more important than them. I want to shout “I have to get through to bring laughter to Cambridge” I don’t think it would stand up in court if I got done for speeding.
Last week I gigged in Liverpool. And there was no traffic, none. I got more and more excited the further up the M1 I went. By the time I arrived I was near hysterical with excitement. But that is in the past and now I am paying for my luck and we move along the M11at about an inch an hour.
 My mind tries to work it out; can I do 25 miles in 45 minutes?
I finally make it to the front of the queue and am greeted by the sight every motorist dreads. Not a car crash. No. Workmen!
As usual the great British Highways Agency worker, a highly inappropriate job title, doing nothing, is causing the traffic jam. They stand on their shovels watching a stream of irate drivers trying to squeeze through tiny gaps amongst traffic cones. I think they give each other points for whoever can cause the longest jams.
I believe comedians as well as the emergency services should be allowed to use the hard shoulder. Maybe us comics could get a flashing light “he haw, he haw, he haw” traffic would have to spread out to let us through.
I get through the roadworks and laugh each time someone gets flashed by a speed camera. Some people are so impatient!
The M11 is behind me. 10 miles in 25 minutes will I make it to the on time?
I got to the gig bang on time and without getting flashed by speed cameras. I walk out on stage and am greeted with “Did you dress in a hurry” the audience laugh. So did I. Not because of the heckle, but because when I looked down I see I am still wearing my slippers. Oh well it will give me something to think about on the way home if I get stuck in traffic.

 

Comic Voice Comedian John Ryan