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”.