I’ve written ‘Pythons’ Last Laugh, Again’, a piece for today’s Sunday Express in celebration of Monty Python and their eagerly-awaited, sell-out concerts at London’s O2. Monday sees the release of ‘Monty Python Sings (again)’; a re-sequenced and re-mastered resurrection of the team’s hugely successful compilation album from 1989. I’ve written a track-by-track liner note alongside exclusive comments from the surviving members of the team. Also released is ‘Monty Python’s Total Rubbish’; a lip-smacking collection of their nine U.K. albums. Available as both a CD and vinyl collection, the set comes complete with the 7″ ‘Monty Python’s Tiny Black Round Thing’ and a 64-page book featuring my album-by-album essays and new interviews with the Pythons. The first O2 show is on Tuesday the 1st July and a further nine performances take place up to the final, final show on Sunday the 20th. For further information and tickets please go to www.montypythonlive.com

So, at 2pm Rik Mayall was finally laid to rest during a service at St. George’s Church, Dittisham, Devon. The very concept of Rik resting at all is completely wrong to me, so I like to think he’s being utterly, utterly outrageous somewhere. It’s just we can’t see him doing it! By a beautiful coincidence, the day also marked the 30th anniversary of the last broadcast of ‘The Young Ones’. There was something comforting about the movers and shakers of the revolutionary comedy vibe that shaped my childhood, and thus my life, gathering on that day, albeit for the very worst of reasons. Here’s to you, Rik. ITV1 are screening a rather lovely tribute to his stupendous talents on Sunday evening, with the first episode of The New Statesman: ‘Happiness is a Warm Gun’ and Rik Mayall Presents: ‘Dancing Queen’ from 10.30pm.

It’s one of those days when I scoop up *all* the daily newspapers for the archives. For the most tragic of reasons. I’m completely floored by the sudden death of Rik Mayall at the insanely young age of 56. Rik’s importance can never be over-stated. He was the best of his generation. The best of *my* generation, falling under his spell in ‘The Young Ones’ when we were even younger than he. A source for playground impressions, comic strip violence and hours upon hours of laughter. Suffice to say, I won’t reel-off an endless list of credits. Rik was simply bloody good. In *everything* he did. I caught, quite by chance, his lovely guest turn in Midsomer Murders: ‘The Creeper’ just the other week. One of those relentless repeats on ITV3, but there was Rik being engaging and cheeky and profound and riveting and utterly, utterly brilliant. A gigantic, arrogant talent. A good, humble man. I’m glad he passed our way while I could meet him and embrace him and thank him and applaud him. Another twenty years would have been nice though! I can do no more and no better than to quote *in full* (*cough* BBC news, shame on you!) the perfect tribute from Rik’s lifelong friend and fellow comedic anarchist, Ade Edmondson: “There were times when Rik and I were writing together when we almost died laughing. They were some of the most carefree, stupid days I ever had, and I feel privileged to have shared them with him. And now he’s died for real. Without me. Selfish bastard”.

As usual, I find myself working on several projects at once. The latest is another memoir, set for publication early next year. This one is with a good friend of mine. I’ve known this person for over a decade but I’ve already found the process to be a revelation. It’s also great fun. The reason we are doing it, of course…