While some parts of modern life are returning to a semblance of normality, particularly if you already avoided all human contact, one area of sunshine in our otherwise pointless existences has come back with an added layer of jeopardy. What used to be called going on holiday, but is now defined as a hobby under the smugger term of “travelling”, is fraught with the risk of your foreign destination falling foul of arbitrary quarantine rules mid-sojourn. It might have been officially safe to go there, but you could end up coming back from somewhere dangerous, required to submit to an honesty box-enforced personal lockdown of two weeks, just for burning your skin and eating full Englishes in Marbs. Luckily, TV has many options when it comes to vicarious holiday-making. I’ve already covered Cruising With Jane McDonald, much to the ambivalence of my loyal reader(s). But this week I’m going to be telling you all about my recent obsession with Travel Man.
Everyone loves Richard Ayoade. He was crucial to the charm of The IT Crowd and has gone on to make a living
as a professional silly sausage, which schtick is only enabled by his conversely
erudite true nature. For those of us
whose lifestyles are more than a little inspired by the teachings of Asperger,
he’s a ruddy hero. Like me, he’s guilty
of the approach to travelling where, on the day you’re required to leave, you’d
do anything to be able to stay at home instead.
Once away, you may well have a lovely time and forge treasurable memories,
but you’re never gladder than the moment you cross the threshold back into your
own abode again. An entertaining choice,
then, for a travelogue series. Let’s run
through, to borrow Ayoade’s own frequent references, the format points:
Travel Man always goes with a pal
Each episode focuses on a different predominantly European
destination, to which Ayoade is accompanied by a predominantly comedic
companion. It’s a who’s who of British
televisual light entertainers, though some Hollywood heavyweights do steam in,
introduced to us with all their hyphenations: writers, actors and, ubiquitously,
broadcasters. But what really is a
broadcaster? Am I broadcasting now? I don’t know.
The show has been opened with a madcap monologue where Ayoade
soliloquises from multiple incongruous locations on the pitfalls of modern
weekends away: what if it’s a bit rubbish?
The showbiz pal then sets us up for the second earful, demanding to know
why they have been brought to Porto/Bergen/Athens etc. Cue a street jive-inspired yet still deeply
ironic beginner’s outburst to the place in question. The guest tourists are often reduced to foils
for Ayoade’s self-confessed glibness, with any showing off swiftly halted, but
there is always enough chemistry for the viewer to yearn for an accompanying
ticket.
Travel Man is on a budget, a massive one
Prices for sundries and excursions pop up in jaunty bubbles
onscreen, with an overview of the cheapest possible trip to our destination
given early on. However, this is often
run roughshod over in the very next scene when inordinate funds are spaffed on
the most extravagant of hotels. It’s
wasted on Ayoade, who cares only to toss his retro luggage on the king size
before dashing off.
Travel Man is tight on time
There’s a lot to be forced into 48 hours, ideally three activities
either side of the break plus travel and extra filming time. As such, Ayoade is constantly badgering his
co-voyager to hurry up, resulting in a trail of unfinished drinks and food
being left in their wake. I always find
this funniest when his celeb pal wants to chill in the hotel on arriving and
Ayoade must insist upon them meeting him downstairs immediately in order to
stick to their itinerary. Relaxing this
ain’t.
Travel Man can’t be arsed with the food or indeed any other
affectation
Whether trying odd local dishes, or sitting through a 14-course
Michelin-starred tasting menu, Ayoade is ever the everyman in only ever being
able to assess things as “fine” or “OK” – he’ll often refuse additional bites
if he deems one mouthful sufficient for analysing flavour. Fuss and fancy are instant turn offs, often
dismissed on the spot, much to the disappointment of obsequious wait staff and
barkeeps. I unknowingly channelled this
approach on a media jolly to San Sebastián when I inadvertently told the maître
d’ at Arzak that I didn’t like the
monkfish. Whoops.
Travel Man is nourished by facts
Our guest follows Richard on a schlepp to the city’s nearest
highpoint, using a bird’s eye view to orientate themselves and discuss Ayoade’s
vertigo. Before, during and after, they
are showered with openly Wikipedia-procured nuggets of varying relevance, often
responding with their only viable reaction: bemusement. On occasions, even hired tour guides seem to
know less than our Richard. It’s all
deliciously awkward. Of note is when
UNESCO World Heritage Site status is pointed out, as we do realise at one point
that nobody knows what this means.
Travel Man has other foibles
He makes outrageous sartorial choices. He has a real passion for funiculars (and you
will too). He finds it outrageous when artisanal
workshops do not conclude with appropriate certification. He is vivid in his descriptions of tummy
bugs. He treats guides facetiously by asking
them to stay in touch. But most of all…
Travel Man gets travel sick
Across the nine series and counting, the producers push Ayoade
into every mode of transport imaginable, from speedboats to helicopters, from
camels to toboggans. Each and every one
triggers his motion sickness. As a
fellow sufferer, I identify with this more than I can convey here. In fact, I have developed sympathy sickness
which comes on whenever Ayoade looks queasy.
Which is often.
Nevertheless, this show is now a firm favourite of mine in light of its lightness and entertainment. I feel as though I’ve been on a farewell grand tour of my beloved EU with a host of new pals. Its irreverent tone really takes the gap yah out of someone else’s holidays, transcending the traditional tedium of online showing off by never taking anything that seriously. Best of all, its brutal honesty really peaks at the very end when Ayoade is itching to get home and shut the doors. Should they have come? It doesn’t matter if you have speedy boarding.
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