Alexei Sayle: Life on the road His left was fine but the right arm ended in a stump just above the wrist. The hippy's solution to driving as a uni-dexter had been to buy a beat-up German-registered, left-hand-drive VW Microbus, which meant he could hold the steering wheel with his left hand while changing gear with the stump of his right. He was not much use as a roadie since he was unable to carry anything bigger than a table lamp, but at least he got us and the set to the college bars, rooms above pubs and tiny arts centres where we performed. Until one night Julie Christie, Hollywood film star, came to see us do our act at a pub in Twickenham. That such a famous and beautiful person was among us sent everybody into a frenzy, but the hippy was particularly affected, so much so that he got horribly drunk and shattered the beer glass he had clenched in his one good hand, cutting it to shreds in the process. We refused to get in his van to return home on account of his drunkenness and his number of useful hands being reduced to nil. He got really angry at this and with the steering wheel slick with blood drove off into the night, all our stuff rattling about in the back of the VW, never to be seen again. This taught me that you were better off without a set, props, partners or one-handed hippies so I went solo, but I still couldn't drive. As I began to move up the ladder I started to meet established comedians and saw what they drove. The first of these was Jasper Carrott, backstage at the Amnesty International benefit, the Secret Policeman's Other Ball, where we had a furious row because we both had the word "Guildford" as the punchline of a gag. In the end I said, "Well tough, I'm on first," and I used it and got a big laugh while he was forced to say "Truro" or somewhere and his joke died badly. Nevertheless, he very kindly took me after the show in his XJS to a nearby drinking club. I suggested we walk but his manager said, "No, Bob has the power to find a parking space wherever he goes." And so it proved, in the heart of Covent Garden and right outside the club, there was a vacant spot waiting for us. From then on, whenever me and my wife find a parking space right where we want it we call that "Doing a Jasper." Another old-timer I worked with on a show called OTT was a man called Bob Carolgees and his hand puppet "Spit the Dog." Spit was supposedly a "punk" dog and pretty much their only joke was that he spat a lot with a loud hawking sound. This had made them very wealthy. Bob and Spit travelled from gig to gig in a big left-hand-drive American van complete with a kitchen and beds in the back. This was the first time I'd seen such a thing and I found it very impressive, though I still wondered why they didn't stay in hotels. Then it occurred to me that a lot of hotels won't take dogs.