The Pleasure Beach: For many, the whole point of going to Blackpool is to spend time at the Pleasure Beach. Lots of time, because there's tons to do. And lots of money, because fun doesn't come cheap. A day pass costs anywhere between £20 and £32 depending on the season (it was £30 at the weekend) but for that you get to go on everything as many times as you like come on, shall we go round again, yeah again, again, again! Plan in advance, book online and that's only £20. Even getting inside merely to look at stuff, which used to be free, now costs a fiver. This is Britain's most popular paid-for attraction, so I guess the owners must be raking it in. But stay for a full day and you should get more than your money's worth.
And it's not just rollercoasters. There's a monorail, and Edwardian Flying Machines, and several restaurants, and ice skating, and an Art Deco casino, and the Grumbleweeds, and even some dancing fountains. But mostly it's about the rollercoasters. Here's three...
i) The Big One: It's the ride for which Blackpool is famous - no longer the world's tallest rollercoaster but still holder of the European record. The BigOne's first drop's more than 200 metres down, inclined at 65 degrees, tipping riders over the top at 3½g. Obviously only a thrill-seeking nutter would choose to perch precariously in the sky on a steel frame for kicks. I queued up and took my chances. The line wiggled round the giant Pepsi can at the start of the ride, giving us a good view of the ascent, then entered the slightly damp-smelling embarkation chamber. Where to sit? At the back, obviously, where the over-the-top yank effect is at its greatest. And then the dawning realisation, as the coaster trundled round to begin its 45 second climb, that there was no backing out now. The rest of the park was laid out below as we teetered up to the top and ohmigod ohmigod that's fast how steep ohmiohmigod a twist this is so steep i'm plummeting down hey nearly there cor whoosh that was fun woohoo climbing back up again up up i know what's neeeeeext ohmigod wheee urrrrr how fast are we going round this curve hell i hope we stay on we did and dooooooown again hey hey this is great ooh oh hell hehehe fab etc etc. I had a very dry mouth when I got off, but sadly nobody was selling Diet Cokes near the exit. [video] ii) The Grand National: A full 60 years older than the Big One is this special wooden double coaster, where two trains race each other round an extremely undulating course. The 'race' begins beneath the "They're Off" sign, then it's over Becher's (up, float, down), Valentine's (up, float, down) and the Canal Turn (up, float, down) before the sprint to the finish. Modern metal rides keep you tied to the track, whereas a vintage woody gives you flashes of elusive 'air time'. At the end of the ride each train brakes into the opposite platform to that from which it departed - this is one of only three remaining Möbius Loop rollercoasters in the world. And yes, obviously I was aboard the train that won. I'd have had to go round again otherwise. [video] iii) The Big Dipper: Another jiggly oldwooden coaster, this time dating back to 1923 (but sssh, please don't mention last night's crash in which 32 people were injured) (bit close that)
Louis Tussaud's Waxworks: For another quintessential Blackpool experience, nothing's quite so entertaining as a collection of not quite convincing waxworks. The Del Boy and Rodney in the ticket hall provide a pretty good idea of what lies ahead, but they're nothing compared to some of the sights inside. The celebrity foyer is a real pick'n'mix of credibility. Posh beats Becks, for example, and (in a rare outcome) Lawrence Llewellyn-Bowen completely thrashes both Tom Hanks and Tom Cruise. As for Elton John, I thought he looked more like my eldest cousin, and Whoopi Goldberg's realism was mainly down to a well-selected wimple. Upstairs is an adventurous zone (the Titanic and Leo are equally wooden), followed by a sporting cavalcade where ten dummies (including a second Becks) are spaced out to try to fill a room. If you're a Corrie fan you'll love the replica Rover's Return, complete with Ena out front and hotpots served from the cafe behind, although I ranked their Bet Lynch the second least convincing waxwork in the entire show. There's a room full of top musical stars (for a change, Michael Jackson was more realistic then the real thing), then a sad room where all the cast-offs from earlier seasons go to die (Enoch Powell's on the shelf, as are Larry Hagman and the Duchess of York). The Royal Room's a hoot, from a tentative Obama round to a smiling Diana. Slip on the cape provided and you can even have your photo taken with the Queen (I watched a granny place the crown over her baseball cap, for that very special look). Thatcher, Blair and Major are on display ("Mummy, who's John Major?" asked a passing 12 year-old) but, tellingly, there's no sign of Gordon Brown. A few final Hollywood moments (including the most ghastly Spock - that's my bottom of the barrel), then down into a really quite extensive Chamber of Horrors. I had the atmospheric basement all to myself - just me, some movie demons and the world's nastiest serial killers. OK, so the whole building was full of horrors, but I wouldn't have missed it.
The Doctor Who Exhibition: I've had a hankering to go round this museum ever since the Saturday teatime BBC1 continuity announcers revealed its existence back in the 1970s. Sadly it didn't live up to expectations. A nasty fire at Longleat ten years ago destroyed many of the Time Lord's props and foes, and those that remain have a distinctly underwhelming feel. All your favourite stories from the mid 1980s are represented (like, er, the Paradise Towers swimming pool cleaning robot), which means today's kids and most of their mums and dads must leave scratching their heads. Sure there are Daleks and Slitheen and Cybermen, and there are even the various doctors' original costumes plus Bessie the flying car. But most of the dimly-lit cases were full of stuff I only remembered, not loved. Could somebody please invent time travel and go get the old monsters back?
Brilliance: And finally, the latest weapon in Blackpool's entertainment arsenal, which I stumbled upon in the town centre on Saturday evening whilst hunting for a cashpoint. There were lights and music blaring from an unassuming street, and when I turned the corner the entire road was ablaze with flashing pink and pounding tunes. Blackpool town council have installed six giant silver arches along the middle of the street, each with twirling projectors attached, and the plan is to put on a show every evening during the Illuminations to lure pedestrians into the town. Goodness knows why they chose to site 'Brilliance' in Birley Street - its nightlife appeared to be nil - but maybe there'll be more life here at six in October rather than half past nine in August. For several glorious minutes a Pet Shop Boys medley exploded over my head, and I stood in mute amazement at the volume, cheek and bravado. The lightshow switched from green lights to pink beams to purple shimmers, and the music segued seamlessly from West End Girls to Being Boring to Go West. I adored the emptiness - it was like arriving early at a club as the DJ cranks up the speakers before the crowds appear. I think unseen engineers were testing the system (oh boy, it worked), but I hope Brilliance attracts an audience larger than ten in the autumn.
i) The Big One: It's the ride for which Blackpool is famous - no longer the world's tallest rollercoaster but still holder of the European record. The Big One's first drop's more than 200 metres down, inclined at 65 degrees, tipping riders over the top at 3½g. Obviously only a thrill-seeking nutter would choose to perch precariously in the sky on a steel frame for kicks. I queued up and took my chances. The line wiggled round the giant Pepsi can at the start of the ride, giving us a good view of the ascent, then entered the slightly damp-smelling embarkation chamber. Where to sit? At the back, obviously, where the over-the-top yank effect is at its greatest. And then the dawning realisation, as the coaster trundled round to begin its 45 second climb, that there was no backing out now. The rest of the park was laid out below as we teetered up to the top and ohmigod ohmigod that's fast how steep ohmiohmigod a twist this is so steep i'm plummeting down hey nearly there cor whoosh that was fun woohoo climbing back up again up up i know what's neeeeeext ohmigod wheee urrrrr how fast are we going round this curve hell i hope we stay on we did and dooooooown again hey hey this is great ooh oh hell hehehe fab etc etc. I had a very dry mouth when I got off, but sadly nobody was selling Diet Cokes near the exit. [video]
Louis Tussaud's Waxworks: For another quintessential Blackpool experience, nothing's quite so entertaining as a collection of not quite convincing waxworks. The Del Boy and Rodney in the ticket hall provide a pretty good idea of what lies ahead, but they're nothing compared to some of the sights inside. The celebrity foyer is a real pick'n'mix of credibility. Posh beats Becks, for example, and (in a rare outcome) Lawrence Llewellyn-Bowen completely thrashes both Tom Hanks and Tom Cruise. As for Elton John, I thought he looked more like my eldest cousin, and Whoopi Goldberg's realism was mainly down to a well-selected wimple. Upstairs is an adventurous zone (the Titanic and Leo are equally wooden), followed by a sporting cavalcade where ten dummies (including a second Becks) are spaced out to try to fill a room. If you're a Corrie fan you'll love the replica Rover's Return, complete with Ena out front and hotpots served from the cafe behind, although I ranked their Bet Lynch the second least convincing waxwork in the entire show. There's a room full of top musical stars (for a change, Michael Jackson was more realistic then the real thing), then a sad room where all the cast-offs from earlier seasons go to die (Enoch Powell's on the shelf, as are Larry Hagman and the Duchess of York). The Royal Room's a hoot, from a tentative Obama round to a smiling Diana. Slip on the cape provided and you can even have your photo taken with the Queen (I watched a granny place the crown over her baseball cap, for that very special look). Thatcher, Blair and Major are on display ("Mummy, who's John Major?" asked a passing 12 year-old) but, tellingly, there's no sign of Gordon Brown. A few final Hollywood moments (including the most ghastly Spock - that's my bottom of the barrel), then down into a really quite extensive Chamber of Horrors. I had the atmospheric basement all to myself - just me, some movie demons and the world's nastiest serial killers. OK, so the whole building was full of horrors, but I wouldn't have missed it.
Brilliance: And finally, the latest weapon in Blackpool's entertainment arsenal, which I stumbled upon in the town centre on Saturday evening whilst hunting for a cashpoint. There were lights and music blaring from an unassuming street, and when I turned the corner the entire road was ablaze with flashing pink and pounding tunes. Blackpool town council have installed six giant silver arches along the middle of the street, each with twirling projectors attached, and the plan is to put on a show every evening during the Illuminations to lure pedestrians into the town. Goodness knows why they chose to site 'Brilliance' in Birley Street - its nightlife appeared to be nil - but maybe there'll be more life here at six in October rather than half past nine in August. For several glorious minutes a Pet Shop Boys medley exploded over my head, and I stood in mute amazement at the volume, cheek and bravado. The lightshow switched from green lights to pink beams to purple shimmers, and the music segued seamlessly from West End Girls to Being Boring to Go West. I adored the emptiness - it was like arriving early at a club as the DJ cranks up the speakers before the crowds appear. I think unseen engineers were testing the system (oh boy, it worked), but I hope Brilliance attracts an audience larger than ten in the autumn.
