They don't advertise it, but they throw colonic irrigation into the package at Alton Towers. It works like this: on the Log Flume ride you splosh down into a pond thing and great lashings of wetness explode everywhere, then the wagon slows down and is heaved into the sky, in preparation for the real big dipper. But at that moment all the water on the seat follows Newton's law and swims downhill towards the back of the log.
Being Dad, and sitting at the back, my bottom was soused in water even before the log was rickety-rackety-racheted up to the top. Though, to be fair, an ad campaign which boasted: Alton Towers: You Get Your Bottom Sluiced! might not be a winner.
The log arcs over the top, with aching slowness, and then it bolts down the big slope, a 36ft drop, at which point the remote camera clicks. The picture tells the story. Molly, seven, in purple, yelling her little head off, her eyes slits of excitement. Behind her, Sam, in green, his mouth a lion's roar but his eyes creased in knowing amusement: Wahey! Behind him bald, fat Dad, and, yes, hands clamped over the eyes in, oh no, it's the Cybermen terror, the like of which I haven't experienced since I was six and hiding behind my Mum's sofa at Dr Who . I am a 42-year-old war correspondent,and I am not a coward and I have been to Chechnya, but I hate heights and rides and anything that makes me dizzy. So it's even more fun for the kids if they know its utter torture for Dad. The wet bottom was just a dessert to the main agony.
But if you are a seven- or 11-year-old psychopath, then Alton Towers is for you. After the Log Flume, Sam said: 'That was brilliant, Dad. Can we go on it again?' No.
The fun started with a monorail ride from the oceanic car park - don't forget where you parked, lest you spend hours hunting for your car at the end of the day.
Off to the left is the Log Flume and Congo River Rapids, complete with bongo-bongo drums piped through hidden speakers. As it happened, on the Sunday we did Alton Towers it rained all day, which was great because it kept the queuing down to a mere nagging pain in the neck. Those unlucky with the rain, that is, those lucky with the sun but who suffer much bigger crowds, should devise anti-queue-boredom techniques, a joke book, or a running quiz or, that quality utterly lacking in my kids, patience.
The simplest technique is to get there early. Coming from London, a slog up to Brum and then some, we bed-and-breakfasted at a lovely farm place 20 minutes from Alton Towers, and therefore were able to knock off three or four rides before the queues got to be boring.
The Congo River Rapids is like going inside your washing machine trussed up inside a big tractor inner tube, with loads of splish-sploshing and whirling through engineered waves. More laughs, more cold bottoms. In the gents nearby, one spotty jack-the-lad reversed his bum towards the hand-drier, to the huge amusement of his mates, and Sam and me. I would have done it too had no one been looking.
Not far away is the Haunted House, a ghost train with knobs which Molly and I liked the best. The not very grown-up kids who operate the ride go boo to you even before you get on, which provides a certain frisson. If you like that sort of thing. You whizz around in pitch black, listening to horrible music and various bats and ghoulies and ghosties and snarling vipers with big bad teeth zoom out at you in flickering neon, and then vanish. We were travelling in a six-person carriage and the three girls in front screamed their heads off all the time. But the final scare got them off the scale, cats' claws on hot tin, scree-eeeech-eeek! The remote camera caught all three screeching, and us not looking too happy. Sam looked genuinely scared, Molly afraid and I looked as grim as I do at newsroom ideas meetings, the adult equivalent of double geography.
Easily the most comic ride is the Squirrel Nutkin one, which is really for toddlers. Sam and I aped terror as we crawled along in the sky, listening to synthetic birdsong and eased through plastic trees. Molly loved it. The Hex didn't justify the enormous queue and was a bit disappointing. Oblivion was avoided, on the grounds that Molly would not have liked it,which was an excellent excuse for Sam and me.
The food was dreadful junk, which is exactly what kids like. All in all, a perfect day.
Tour guide
Getting there: by car is convenient, though may mean an overnight stay. Parking is free.
Entry: adult day ticket £21, children (4 -13) £17, family pass £65.
Ambience: buoyant despite the weather.
Food and drink: usual fast food outlets, plus a picnic area.
Navigation: no problems.
Kids' favourite feature: Molly liked the Haunted House and the Log Flume was universally popular.
Parent's favourite feature: the Haunted House.
Most disappointing feature: the Hex ride.
Our tip: shorter queues on weekdays.
Kids' verdict: great fun.
Parent's verdict: at least the kids' enjoyed my discomfort.
