The People's Poet is Dead

I was thinking earlier today how going down to one blog a week has deprived me of the opportunity to talk at you about anything other than my weekly battle with reality. So I decided should something come up I fancied waffling about I'd do it. And lo and behold only hours later just such an occurrence, er, occurred.

A celebrity died.

Celebrity deaths. I struggle sometimes with the outpouring of grief on social media sites for someone that the 'mourners' never knew. But if it's someone that touched your life then the grief is real, albeit manifested in a different form of grief to that of losing a loved one. I can only think of two such personal occasions: Clarence Clemons and then Rik Mayall today.

Clarence Clemons was an integral part of The E-Street Band particularly live. He was Bruce Springsteen's right hand man and was always a part of Bruce's story telling in early concerts. I've seen Springsteen twice since Clarence died and as magical as both gigs were I still missed The Big Man. Springsteen's music can touch and change lives. On a personal note The Rising album helped me overcome the death of my Mother so yes Clarence Clemons touched my life.

So did Rik Mayall touch my life? Well, yes in a roundabout way. My first feeling on hearing of his death was one, obviously, of sadness and then a realisation of your own mortality. He wasn't that much older than me or many of the people I love. But more than this, I was only 13 when I first saw, and worshipped, Mayall's Kevin Turvey on A Kick Up The 80s so he was someone I'd grown up with.

A Kick Up The 80s was watched avidly in our house, my Step-Dad was a big Richard Stilgoe fan. He hated Kevin Turvey though which is bringing me to my point. Rik Mayall was seen as an anarchic comedian and as an awkward teenager finding something you loved that your parents disapproved of was just heaven. 

Then The Young Ones came along. Not only did my parents hate it they didn't get it. Bliss. And that counted for teachers too. Tuesday's became my favourite day at school just so we could quote and impersonate The Young Ones and stick two fingers up to the grown ups. And not always proverbially.

It was ours. It belonged to our generation. We shocked the elder generation and they didn't know what to do. It was nothing new. From Elvis' pelvis to The Beatles growing their hair to The Stones getting arrested to Jim Morrison flashing to Monty Python breaking new comedy ground to The Sex Pistols swearing on live TV every generation has had something to shock their elders with.

Until now. 

It's all been done. I have a son in his early twenties and three teenage daughters and nothing they have ever watched, read or listened to has had any shock value at all. I can only presume it's because we've seen it all before. Nothing Lady GaGa, Rhianna or Miley Cyrus do is remotely offensive. At times it's just pitiful.

I find it sad that we are the first unshockable generation. I find it even sadder that our children will never know the joy that having your Sex Pistols' T-shirt burned or your copy of Relax binned can bring.

So while we should mourn the passing of a gifted and genuinely funny man we should also mourn the loss of the ability to shock.

Everyone at some point should get the chance to be 'Young ones, bachelor boys. Crazy, mad, wild-eyed, big-bottomed anarchists',