CHRISTOPHER STEVENS critiques final evening’s TV: Hairy Biker Si swaps his leathers for a silk scarf in a welcome return to TV
Britain’s Favourite Railway Stations with Si King
Si King without his Hairy Bikers pal Dave Myers is like ham without eggs, or cheese without crackers – however good the recipe, we’re constantly aware of what’s missing.
Dave died in 2024, aged 66, after a long and gruelling battle against cancer, borne with the sweet humour and determination that made him such a well-loved personality.
Si led the tributes, with a wonderful memorial ride from London to Barrow-in-Furness, joined by 20,000 motorcyclists – a salute worthy of a statesman, and unmatched by any other send-off for a TV star.
But since then, though Hairy Biker repeats are rarely off our screens, we’ve seen little else of Si. He must have faced some difficult decisions: surely he didn’t want to be known simply as a sort of TV widow, the survivor from a double act.
That was the fate of Clarissa Dickson Wright, following the death of her screen partner Jennifer Paterson in 1999.
For the rest of her life, she was the One Fat Lady, which implied her booming, ebullient character was somehow not enough.
And Si would have been ill-advised to team up with another presenter, as Declan Donnelly did with Holly Willoughby when his longtime co-star, Ant McPartlin, was temporarily indisposed.
A new association might seem opportunistic, even callous, when the rapport between the Bikers was unmistakeably such a genuine friendship.
Britain’s Favourite Railway Stations (More4) is an unspectacular but well-chosen comeback for Si King without his Hairy Bikers pal Dave Myers
In a denim shirt with a green silk scarf knotted loosely around his neck, Si had the air of a well-fed art historian
Britain’s Favourite Railway Stations (More4) is an unspectacular but well-chosen comeback for him.
The theme plays on his love of transport, while leaving bikes behind. To see him in his leathers, roaring down the M1 on his own, would have been too lonely.
Instead, he was visiting York’s railway station – once the biggest in the world, when it was being built 150 years ago – to learn a little of its history before stopping for a pint and a meat pie at its tap room.
In a denim shirt with a green silk scarf knotted loosely around his neck, he had the air of a well-fed art historian.
He’s happy to play the tourist, asking genial questions of the experts and marvelling at what they impart.
He ran his fingers over the scars in the stonework left by shrapnel from German air raids, and choked up to see the plaque commemorating a heroic station foreman, William Milner, killed by a bomb in 1942.
Going back another century, Si was tickled to learn about the first awayday excursions, with Victorian holidaymakers standing crammed into dozens of open carriages without toilets or heating.
Fed up of being treated like cattle, they amused themselves by mooing and bleating loudly.
At least day-return tickets were only 1d, which is less than half a penny now.
Millions of rail travellers today have to endure standing throughout their journeys, with tickets literally thousands of times more expensive.
Don’t go mooing or bleating to complain about conditions either. Animal noises probably count as micro-aggressions these days.
