Diary of a stand-up comedian

IT is not very often that I feel I can say something with absolute certainty...

I used to have to stay in a lot of low-budget hotels.

You know the sort, the ones where instead of taking the soap home, you leave yours behind out of pity for the next bloke.

That was a long time ago and I thought that I had left it behind.

When you first go out on the road you are asked to share a room with another comic. I was baffled the first time it happened.

It was made worse by the fact the other lad got paralytic and vomited everywhere. I wiped his mouth and put him on his stomach.

A while later I was again expected to share a room. I pointed out that I was not going to share bunk beds with a 20-year-old boy I didn’t know. I don’t know what was worse, the offence the other comic took or the disbelief from the promoter that I snubbed the offer of a bed for the night.

I hadn’t shared a room with another man since our Chris left home 15 years earlier.

I drove home from that gig and decided I would not stay over unless it was in decent accommodation. “Everybody does it when they start out,” said the ‘then’ manager. “Well not me,” says I, and from then on I duly drove home or stayed at a friend’s house.

When I did eventually start getting my own room it would be a low-end hotel which often thought having carpet was a waste of money. I even stayed in a rough house in Aberdeen when we were advised to lock and chain our doors when we were INSIDE the room.

I didn’t mind the occasional low-standard accommodation, however, there were often glimmers of luxury as the occasional four-star hotels appeared on the accommodation rider.

I even managed to get into a five-star hotel a few years back. We had a young fella to service the room and everything. In terms of luxury, I had arrived.

It is a given that if I am staying overnight it will be to a good standard. I am not being snobby, but if you are going to go out on stage in front of hundreds of people you need to at least have been in a hot shower.

Sometimes the offer of the hotel can be a clincher if I am unsure if the gig will be worth it.

For this one they offered me an overnight stay in a luxury hotel the night before the flight. It meant not having to get up at two in the morning for the drive to the airport.

And that is how I found myself heading toward Gatwick and a brilliant hotel that not only had a suite but also a sauna, gym and pool. Add to that the £25 meal voucher and I saw it as a mini-break.

I arrived to find a scene of chaos. The computer had crashed and all the bookings had been jumbled up. I didn’t mind as I had confirmed my booking two hours earlier but they then announced that all the rooms had been double booked.

“Not to worry sir,” said the child at reception, “we have managed to secure you a room at another hotel 10 minutes away!” I could see that it was a no-win situation. It wasn’t the child’s fault and I would just have to accept anything.

I saw the name of the hotel and regretted not bringing my own soap and shampoo. When I got there I regretted not bringing my own duvet, mattress and pillows too. I could see though that it was no-one’s fault.

As I lay down to sleep I remembered that for some reason the fire extinguishers in budget hotels seem to be extremely attractive to drunks.

The ‘hilarious’ antics of my neighbours resulted in the police and fire service attending. It was a rough night. I arrived at the airline checkin desk to find the other comic bright and fresh having somehow managed to get a room at the original hotel. “I bet the hotel in Dubrovnik won’t be as good as last night’s!” he announced.

“I am positive it will be,” says I. Well, I knew it could be no worse than where I had been.