I was heartbroken when I found out that Sean Lock had died. Absolutely heartbroken. Not since the passing of David Bowie have I felt so viscerally the passing of someone I've never met. But whereas as Bowie was the silver glint in the air we breathe, Lock was something else entirely.
He was a fusion of the impossible; the kid sniggering in the back of the class and the black-robed master at the front all rolled into one. He was the nimblest man in comedy who could, within one sentence, skewer himself, society, a politician, and a fellow guest on (or the host of) whatever show he was on. He could deliver the most outrageous of quips with an authoritative glee, that somehow affirmed that whilst others could not possibly dare say these things, he could, and he would, and sooner or later, he'd do it again.
There was a magic to Lock; a presence that somehow oozed contempt for his audience, and yet, they loved him (we loved him) for it. Because it was all bluff and bluster, and it allowed him to deliver searing insults and wide-eyed, acutely insightful observations on life and its quirky absurdities. Once, on 8 out of 10 Cats Does Countdown, someone asked why the super-rich give their kids such stupid names. Drily, Lock replied, "it's because they know they'll never have to apply for jobs." He once listed his prowess at seal clubbing as one of his greatest achievements, and said he'd set himself the goal of being a less considerate lover. And recently, when asked by a friend how he was going at the hospice he was staying at (as part of his cancer care and treatment), he replied, "the food is shit, but the sex is amazing". Nice stuff from a bloke who loved his family dearly and spoke about them often - but only off-stage, never on it.
Unlike some comedians - Frankie Boyle, for example - Lock's comments were never brutal. They never hurt. So much of the difference was in the delivery. Where Boyle offered judgement, Lock offered observation. Anyone who's ever seen the footage of the 'challenging' comment he once made to Rachel Riley on the show mentioned above will know just how phenomenally outrageous he could be. I just don't know who else couldn't gotten away with that. He was a cobra; gently swaying, and then crack! He'd land the fatal blow that would trigger a gasp of disbelief and tears of laughter.
When Lock laughed, everyone laughed, because whatever had been said or done was seriously funny. But often, he didn't laugh. If on a show when someone cracked a joke that didn't resonate with him, you'd get nothing. When asked by a fellow comedian why he never faked a laugh, he replied, "because I want them to get better". What a wonderful reply.
A man of intellectual and emotional depth. A family man and loyal friend. A man with contempt for bullshit and celebrity. And a man who was quite willing to humiliate himself to get a giggle, for the simple reason that laughs matter. And he had a secret weapon; he was never humiliated. Because he didn't care. He was too busy looking for the next opportunity to outrage and delight. And by God, he just kept on finding them.
Lock didn't have the global appeal of a Billy Connolly, perhaps because he lacked the accent and the overt lovability. Once, when on a documentary-styled tour of America's Deep South with friend and colleague, Jon Richardson, one of his American hosts asked him what he did for a living. When he told the bloke he was a comedian, the man couldn't hide his surprise. You're a comedian? Man, you don't sound like a comedian. "That's because I'm an English comedian and not an American one," he replied. That line contains everything you need to know about the man, really. He wasn't just an English comedian, though; he was the English comedian's comedian.
The outpouring of love that's followed his passing would surprise him, I reckon. Somehow, if he were here, he'd find a way to mock it. And I reckon he'd be delighted that there's a push to get #seanlockdown trending on Twitter.
Nothing beats a laugh. And nothing beats Sean Lock.