It was always
going to take something big to inspire me to come back to this blog and write
something new. I just didn’t know it was
going to be something so downright crap.
On Monday I was doing a spot of writing when I had one of my frequent
attacks of procrastination so I went for a mooch around Facebook for a
bit. I’d been scanning the news feed for
about thirty seconds when I noticed a headline posted by a friend that made my heart go cold.
Rik Mayall Found Dead.
The denial began
immediately. No this can’t be right I thought, I bet it’s some sick bastard pulling a hoax. I’d already had a fright like this at the end
of the nineties when he had that quad bike accident that almost killed him so I
clung to the bag of salt that I hoped the story contained in the vain hope this
was all a load of bollocks. I began to
search for the article on the internet that would prove that it was another one
of those death hoaxes.
Only it wasn’t. It was true.
One of the
greatest performers I have ever seen has gone. And far too early. Fifty six years old. I was expecting that to be about the age I’d be when we started to say goodbye to
the generation of comic performers I grew up with rather than the one I loved
the most out of that group going first while I’m barely into my forties.
Rik Mayall,
along with Ade Edmondson have had more influence on me and my sense of humour
than I ever realised. Of course I
consciously took on expressions, turns of phrase and quotes from Rik and Ade
but it wasn’t until a number of years back when I started to revisit other work
they’d done, - like the pant wettingly hilarious Bad News album or the hugely underrated Comic Strip Presents episode Mr
Jolly Lives Next Door that they starred in with another comic legend, Peter
Cook - that I began to uncover the true extent to which they’ve become absorbed
into my personality. There were quotes I use in everyday
situations that I’d forgotten came from Rik (well that’s just effing marvelous) and mannerisms I’d unwittingly
picked up, it was a surprise to see how both he and Ade affected me subconsciously as
well as consciously.
This realisation
struck me again about five or six years ago when my girlfriend bought me the
box set of all three Bottom TV series
for Christmas. I spent a lot of time
watching episodes I hadn’t seen for a few years and was gobsmacked to realise I
was quoting them almost word for word. Same thing happens when I watch The Young Ones – especially Bambi.
Rik Mayall was
at the heart of many of my favourite comedy moments of all time. From The Dangerous Brothers right up to the sadistic
Dad in the recent show Man Down, Rik
was always someone I was excited to see in whatever it was he did, even if it
was a more serious turn without his comic partner, Ade. Remember Dancing
Queen from 1993 that he was in with Helena Bonham Carter as one of the Rik Mayall Presents series? If not go check it out, you get to see what
a cracking actor he was as well as comic genius.
Rik was part of
a movement that was my generation’s version of the Monty Python. In the
80s when I was a metal kid he was the (crap) bass player in a band that mocked
us and reminded us not to take ourselves too seriously. He taught me how to deliver knob jokes and
gave me a true appreciation of ultraviolent slapstick and puerile toilet
humour. He was funny in a way that seeped into my soul and helped form my own sense of humour. One of my favourite things in the world to watch is a Richie vs Eddie fight in their crappy Hammersmith flat, especially
when Ade slams Rik’s head repeatedly in the fridge.
I could go on
but I’d only be indulging myself. I’m
truly heartbroken at the passing of one of my heroes but can find
solace in the massive (ooer) body of work (double ooer) he’s left behind.
So long, Rik you
utter bastard. Try not to get caught
having a cheeky wank in the queue for the afterlife, eh? And may I say, what a smashing blouse you have on.
