‘Boats are terrible people’

In his debut column for Bristol24/7, Martin Pilgrim writes about Bristol’s floating menace.

Katie Melua once said that there are nine million bicycles in Beijing. I’m not sure I believe her but she made it pretty clear in the song that denial is not an option. Perhaps the Chinese government’s attitude to dissent rubbed off on her while she was cycling around the country. Anyway, even if I wanted to challenge her I wouldn’t be able to. She doesn’t seem to exist anymore.

There may not be nine million boats in Bristol, but there are quite a lot. Enough to get in the way at least. Boats are quite a bit bigger than bikes and don’t tend to fold away or fit under the stairs in winter. My dad never taught me how to ride a boat but maybe it’s time I learned. Where can I get some boat-stabilisers? Or “anchors”, as they’re more commonly known.

One of the basic models for a Bristol business seems to be Thing+Boat=Profit. Bristol banks give away a free life jacket with every business loan. We’re a city of paved streets linking floating cafes, as if someone’s misunderstood Venice. Come to think of it, “The Opposite of Venice” would be an excellent city motto. I’ll suggest it to the mayor along with, “Bristol:  Not despicable since 1833.”

When I first moved to Bristol, my friend took me to Under The Stars for some cider.  A week later I was walking around a different part of the city and I saw what I now know to be The Grain Barge. At the time, I couldn’t conceive of a city having more than one floating pub, so I assumed that Under The Stars sailed around the city picking up drinkers along the way. Imagine trying to order a taxi home when your pub was constantly in motion.

I enjoy dining on a boat as much as the next person, (and I’m writing this on a boat so the next person is probably pretty into it). I’d like to see a bit more authenticity though. I want to be served dry biscuits and limes by a man with wooden teeth. Maybe they could buy one of those wave machines they have at Butlins and simulate a storm every so often. The staff could throw a rubber glove in your face and shout, “Kraken!”.

I’m feeling quite anti-boat at the moment and, like most prejudices, it stems from a single isolated incident. I was enjoying the sun by the harbourside this week with a sandwich and some self-mixed whisky and coke. (Note to self: always put the finished product in the coke bottle not the whisky bottle if you don’t want to attract stares.)

Everyone was happily basking in the sun. Sitting in the sun anyway. It’s not basking unless you close your eyes and pull a face. Suddenly a huge boat appeared and moored itself where we were sitting, blocking out the sun completely. Actually some people moored it there but my issue is with the boat. I assume the people were only helping out under duress. The temperature fell by about ten degrees and I was suddenly just a cold man drinking whisky in the dark, which is usually more of a weekend thing for me. I was furious but the best I could do was mutter “stupid boat” under my breath.

In hindsight I should have thrown my whisky bottle at the boat as I said it. If the bottle had broken, the boat would have to change its name to Stupid Boat. That’s how it works with boats. I’ve done my research.

Martin Pilgrim is a stand-up comedian who by day works in a the Post Office in The Galleries. Follow more of his musings about life on Twitter via @martinpilgrim1