A Smashing Blouse

There’s almost a seven year age difference between me and my older brother. That’s a pretty big gap; you’re never quite co-inhabiting the same phase of childhood. We were never at the same school together - he was a child of the seventies whereas my juvenile reference points are predominantly from the eighties. Where I to sing the theme tune from The Mysterious Cities Of Gold at him he’d probably just look at me blankly. He on the other hand is not allowed to reference anything from his childhood as even the cartoons from the seventies were found to be paedophiles.

But you need something to bond with your brother over and it was comedy that we predominantly chose to form our sibling connection.

Every Sunday lunch throughout the eighties we’d wheel out the table (it really did have wheels on) and sit down to eat something that he enjoyed way more than I did - I’d often hide meat in a tissue and sneak it up to the toilet for disposal. Unless it was one of those blessed occasions when the head chef served up a Fray Bentos, whereupon I could swap the meat for extra pastry, in a deal that I still consider to this day the greatest bargain struck of my life.

And while this high class dining was under way we’d invariably watch an episode or two of The Young Ones, taped on broadcast onto Betamax tapes. Later in the decade I made a copy of one of his friend’s tape of Filthy, Rich & Catflap and this was added to the menu of things to watch while having dinner. And even though we only had 12/18 episodes to go through, we still watched a couple of episodes every week for what felt like the whole decade.

The first live comedy I saw was not one, but two viewings, of World War 2 documentary Allo Allo, yet probably the pinnacle of my many subsequent experiences of watching comedy was seeing Bottom Live, again with my brother.

That time from pre-adulthood till we stop being teenagers is an important time for us all, where every experience is heightened. We never quite love bands as much as those we adored when we first turned into adults and I feel lucky that this important time in my life was soundtracked by Nirvana, just in the same way that I appreciate that my time at university coincided almost perfectly with the Britpop years.

However much I loved music though, as I became an adult it still didn’t match comedy for the impact it had on me. When friends were out drinking I could be found – like a sadcase – watching comedy series such as Red Dwarf, Whose Line Is It Anyway and Absolutely religiously, re-watching the same episode 3-4 times.

Yet it was Bottom I loved the most; it was my sitcom. Running from when I was 16 and finishing when I was 21 it had such a massive impact on my life that I still find myself quoting bits of it today. But it’s not just that…

Our favourite songs and films may make us happy, thoughtful or excited, yet they don’t affect our personality. At least not in a permanent way. My love of Nirvana as I became an adult left a predilection for stupid hair but no other mental/physical scars. But The Young Ones, Filthy, Rich & Catflap and especially Bottom have had a probably alarming effect on who I’ve turned out to be. For instance, when hungover and tired I turn into Richie from Bottom - an irritating mania overtakes me, all non-sequiturs, stupid songs and screeching. It’s not much fun to be around.

I feel many of my friends have this imprint on them too – we’ve generally bonded on a shared sense of humour. Hell, I’ve become friends with people solely because we could quote Bottom at each other. You feel a kinship, that you’re going to like this person because they like the same things as you.

I was genuinely upset yesterday at the death of Rik Mayall. I felt it was a shame that somebody had died who’d made me laugh more than anyone else I’d never met. But I also felt like I’d lost somebody who’d had more impact on my own personality than any schoolteacher, writer, musician, or indeed anyone outside of probably my own parents. My sense of humour is at the core of who I am and that was shaped by Rik Mayall and Ade Edmondson more than anyone. Inside me is a load of Bottom episodes trying to get out - Rik taught me to be an irritating idiot.

The next time I laugh at something daft or stupidly smutty, or make a nonsensical joke with friends I’ll think of Rik and thank him for the joy he gave me throughout my life. And the next time I’m hungover and screeching nonsense then Hannah can thank him for that too.

There’s more than one generation of people who’ll miss you as much as I do Rik, and often for the same reasons. You helped create us monsters, I hope you were proud of that fact. And also proud that you made Ben Elton write the best thing he’s done for over 20 years: “He always made me cry with laughter, now he’s just made me cry.”

Here’s the funniest thing two people have ever done: