Sodden with rain, sodden in spirit and sodden with alcohol at 2 am on a street corner in Edinburgh. As lows go, even by my lowly standards, this was a pretty low low.

Squelching along, trying to get home, I’m six miles and two hours’ walk from my B&B. I have just exited a late-night comedy club. The hilarious comedic highlight had been when the two twin male comedians had invited the audience to guess which one had the bigger penis. Dear God save me.

When stand-up burst upon the scene in the mid 80s it seemed so sharp, so spontaneous, so inventive, so needed. But now it feels like the bind weed of the Edinburgh Festival. An invasive species which has strangled every part of imagination in its path, every creative spark has been extinguished in the economic ambition of a swathe of observational comedy mediocrity.

When I left university I was a car park attendant for two years. If you had told me then, part of my job would be to go to the Edinburgh Festival to check out the comedy, I would have ripped your arm off.

But right here, right now, tired and damp, with the onslaught of misogyny passing itself off as stand-up comedy still ringing in my ears, a lifelong career in car parking seemed to have its upside.

I needed a friend. I needed an uplift. Hell, I just needed a lift. The taxis sped past in a blur, mockingly splashing me, the headlights momentarily blinding me to the inevitable let down of the unilluminated hire light.

But salvation comes from unexpected places at unexpected times, my friend. Just when you think you’re in a cul-de-sac of despair, an unfamiliar hand can tap you on the shoulder. I checked my phone. Hit the Uber App. And up popped Mahfuz.

Mahfuz, in his Volkswagen WV19 872 was three minutes away. A little map reassured me with his constantly updated approaching status.

Uber, I understood was the scourge of fairness, exploiting drivers, distorting markets and generally making one dodgy guy very rich.

Really? Well it seems a pretty damn good idea right now. Thank you Mahfuz. Thank you, thank you. I love you Mahfuz. I really think I do actually love you a little bit. The thing is it’s so brilliantly convenient.

Uber la di, Uber la da, life goes on. Hoorah! I was always thought of myself as a John Lennon-type of guy but maybe it was Macca who had the vision after all? All we are saying.... is give price a chance?