Escapism – Breaking The Stigma

For me, shoes are just a barrier between dog shit and my socks.
Sean Lock

It’s incredibly sad that I’m writing this blog under such horrible circumstances, however I felt it was necessary to come out and express my own personal tribute to the one and only comic Sean Lock, who has sadly passed away from cancer at the age of 58.

While I’m hard pressed to both find and articulate the words worthy of describing the undoubted legend that underpinned the man that Sean Lock was, I’ll begin by saying this. From the day I was first introduced to his comedy on the highly-regarded British TV panel show ‘8 out of 10 cats at the tender age of around 9 or 10, whilst watching the box at home with my family, to the very recent times where I’ve been howling with laughter re-watching his stand-up shows and TV appearances for hours upon end on YouTube, there have been VERY FEW people who have made me laugh as often, as hard and with such ease that Sean Lock has. And will continue to do forever more.

Whenever I’ve had a difficult day, life isn’t going quite going to plan, and I haven’t really known how to make it better, comedy (particularly Sean’s) has provided so many great opportunities to get away from my fears and problems for a while. See the funnier side of life. And when you’re in a negative mindset and everything seems to be grinding you down, testing your resilience, sometimes the ultimate remedy is hearing genuinely good comedy as it allows us to smile and put certain things into perspective. Recognise that life isn’t all bad. That even in adversity and facing major setbacks, we can make life that bit more enjoyable by making light of a difficult situation or having a little chuckle to ourselves. Now for me, that’s what typified Sean Lock. In whichever TV show he found himself on, wherever in the world he was doing stand-up, as well as I imagine at home with friends and family, he had the God-given, uncanny ability to be immensely likeable, dry, effortlessly quick-witted, outrageously funny in the most unlikely, peculiar scenarios (watch ‘Carrot in a Box’ if you haven’t already) and weirdly charming, even to those he was humorously insulting or poking fun at. All at the same time. And that’s no easy feat whatsoever!

When the news regarding his passing initially broke, I couldn’t quite believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. Not him, please not him. Let it be fake news. Even without ever watching him live or meeting him personally, I felt like I knew him. I realise that could sound slightly weird to some, yet having watched so much of his comedy and appreciated the presence and value he brought to every show he featured on, it feels as though I’d built a strong emotional connection with him. Similar to what a mate or a family member could do!

Now in the thousands of tributes that quickly followed, you could clearly see that I wasn’t the only one who felt such a close bond. From the colleagues and true friends he worked closely alongside, like Jimmy Carr, Jason Manford and Jon Richardson, to the average person on the street who has used comedy as a release; an escape, Sean was a person who touched people’s lives in the most profound way. He gave us moments, memories, and snippets of utter brilliance that we can cherish forever. Memories so laugh-out-loud hilarious and clever that it’d be impossible for you to forget them. And that’s what you call the ultimate legacy.

Yes I’ve certainly shed plenty of tears, yes I do feel a void, and yes I will hugely miss watching him on TV making me laugh. That being said, I also recognise this too. Sean was the kind of man who wouldn’t want to see people upset, see people cry and see people miserable. He’d want us to be laughing, joking and using our sense of humour in every possible situation.

Do you know why? Because that’s what he did best!

P.S. If you need any reminder of what an incredible comedian really looks like, I urge you to spend some time checking out the videos linked below. I promise they won’t disappoint!