The world has lost Sean Lock at 57.

I have a feeling that I was in The pub when I started this. Let’s face it, I was. At the time I didn’t know what to say. And as you read this, you’ll find out that I probably still don’t. But for some reason, my fingers are happy typing away, so let’s see where we end up with this.

If I haven’t said already, this summer has been fucking awful. Seriously, it hasn’t been good at all. And if I wanted to wind up Jacob Rees-Mogg, I’d say that this summer has been very awful. Very terrible. Very, very rubbish. You get the idea. “Very” is a redundant word, as I hope he will be very soon. He’s a cunt.

I’ll be honest. I’m not in the The pub. I was there yesterday and it didn’t feel right to there two days in a row. I’m drinking somewhere else. It’s not about the beer. Honestly, it’s not about the beer. It’s just that beer is here. And I’m here!

I didn’t want to go home yet. Different is good. The weather is good. And I’ll make savings next month. This is some self care for me. It’s just me though. I’m not meeting loads of people. All I have to show is a few blogs along the way, which no one reads – except me.

The time is 1959 and it’s dusk. It’s not dark yet, but it will be soon. It’s just me an the barmaid in this place too. Having said that, I’m content enough here. My belly is full from sausage and chips, and my final pint is excellent. There’s music playing too. And that’ll do.

At this point, you’ll have realized that none of this is about Sean Lock. I still have nothing to say. There’s a place inside me where a comedy genius was and I don’t know how to fill it. And it wasn’t as if I followed his recent work. All I have is a feeling of loss. A feeling that a funny person has gone and can’t be replaced. Who else would say, “sharks only attack you when you’re wet”?

Writing good material isn’t easy. Ready my blogs! The quality is low. And that’s when I manage to publish anything. Yeah. This is the good stuff. I’ll never be a genius. I struggle to even spell the word.