Today marks 10 years since the death of inimitable comedy genius Rik Mayall. 10 long years (if you read that in Richie’s voice, you’re my people). I’m not over it.
In fact, a decade on, I miss Rik’s irreverent humour more than ever. In interviews after his recovery from a near-fatal quad bike accident in April 1998, Rik Mayall revealed that his family had dubbed that day ‘Crap Thursday’. The crash happened the day before Good Friday, and Rik had remained in a coma until Easter Monday.
He often joked that he ‘beat Jesus’ by being dead five days before coming back to life. Well, 9 June 2014 was definitely ‘S**t Monday’. S**tter than the s**ttiest of s**t-smeared s**tty s**t Mondays.
I was travelling home from a hen-do and had no idea how bad my hangover was about to get. Upon reading that Rik Mayall had died of a sudden heart attack , I burst into tears and felt sorrow in a way I hadn’t thought possible from a celebrity death. Such is my love of ‘The Rik’, texts started to ping in from friends reassuring that they were thinking about me.
Of course, my thoughts were with Rik’s friends and family; his wife Barbara and three children Rosie, Sid and Bonnie. In the years since Rik died, I’ve lost my own beloved mum and dad – and, while I must not diminish the insurmountable devastation felt when your nearest and dearest are snatched from this earth, the pain of Rik’s untimely death at age 56 deeply affected me. British comedy had lost an irreplaceab.
