R.I.P, Jeremy Hardy

Jeremy Hardy, 1961 - 2019

In bullshit times like these, we really can't afford to be losing such comforting voices of sanity as the comedian, Jeremy Hardy's.  Tragically, that's exactly what was recently announced - with his passing, at the age of 57, as the result of cancer.

That age is a bit of a wake up call for those of us of a similar vintage - I'll confess.  Far more poignant is the loss of a sharp wit, keen intelligence, and above all - compassionate voice, in an era when knuckle-dragging idiocy, routine brutality, and political cynicism are so much in vogue.  As Hardy's fellow comedians (and others) have paid tribute to him, words like, 'humility', 'generosity', self-effacement, and  'commitment' (both to his craft - and to the causes he espoused), have abounded.  Most importantly (and doubly so - for a performer so easily pigeon-holed as a 'Left Wing Comedian'), Hardy was properly funny.  There were numerous occasions, especially in recent years - when I'd splutter with spontaneous glee, as he went off on yet another off-the-cuff, but erudite, exposition of social injustice or human folly.

Hardy himself, claimed to be less a political extremist, and more a Left-leaning liberal in an era when everyone else had moved so alarmingly to the Right.  In such a context any engaged but essentially wooly, middle-class 'luvvie' (as he would knowingly characterise himself), might resemble a raving Trot.  It was of course, a delicious irony that he ultimately found his most faithful audience as a stalwart of that bastion of hard-line Marxist orthodoxy -
BBC Radio 4.  Perhaps that's really why his death feels so much like losing one of 'our' own.  For, cosy, complacent, and even stuffy, as that channel can often seem - it also remains an intellectual refuge for anyone who values humanitarianism, literacy, informed discussion, reasoned debate, unashamed specialist expertise, and a well-honed sentence or two.  I struggle to think of anyone with income and living conditions as modest as my own, as any kind of 'elite'.  Nevertheless, if a taste for any of the values detailed above must label me as part of some despised metropolitan, liberal, self-interest group - bring it on. Either way, Jeremy Hardy seemed to fit right into that kind of milieu, from the start.

In his case, that facility with language, both written and spoken, came from Stand-Up - a form of comedy to which he remained dedicated throughout his career.  I witnessed him in action, some time back in the late 90s, and also within the last couple of years - when it was gratifying to witness that his powers appeared undimmed over the intervening years.  He was still the same amiable, if bemused cove, in whose ramblings were buried the keenest political barbs and (perhaps more importantly) empathetic reflections on the human condition.  Even as I write this, I realise that a similarly rambling, laconic and tangential manner of speech, and an habitual apology for being older than I really am - are both traits I share with Jeremy.  Of course, I haven't been clever enough to parley that all into a long and successful comedy career, or indeed, to also walk the walk in some troubled region, like Palestine - as he also did.

We'll always have cherished memories of Jeremy Hardy on venerable Radio 4 panel shows, gloriously massacring 'One Song To The Tune Of Another' or confounding fellow performers and audience members alike - with yet another increasingly bonkers political 'analysis'.  But it's tragic to think there'll be no more of that inspired lunacy - and he'll be greatly missed.

Addendum:

On the day Jeremy Hardy's death was announced, I also scraped a copy of the pernicious pro-Brexshit propaganda rag, 'Wetherspoonnews'  off my doormat.  The fact that thrusting such a misleading and cynically manipulative abomination through an innocent citizen's letterbox is now deemed acceptable, is perhaps indicative of what Jeremy Hardy meant about everyone else moving so depressingly to the Right.  It is, of course, the populist impulse to present ever-hardening political extremism as 'The Voice Of The People', which has got us to the point where we now teeter - and may indeed soon deliver us to an even worse place.

Lessons from history and self-fulfilling prophesies are habitually ignored, but what feels alarmingly new - is the conflation of commercial advertising with a more political variety of misinformation.  What form of cynical hubris, makes the owner of some resolutely lowest-common-denominator piss-hole chain, feel suitably qualified to herd the sheep in this manner?. You'd think poisoning livers and clogging arteries would be profitable enough, without messing with our minds too.  Bar room philosophy is one thing, but 'Spoons-fed prejudice and bigotry feel like something else, altogether.  Actually, I'm tempted to wonder if this might not be life exacting some bizarre revenge, by imitating the pub-based Art of another thoughtful comedian, Al Murray.  'This S(c)eptic Isle', indeed.

My initial reaction was of course to lob the offending article into the recycling - where it belongs (I no longer have cat-litter trays to line, sadly).  However, as ever - Art stayed my hand.  Such material naturally contains the seeds of its own satire, and the creative activity it may stimulate is ultimately more satisfying than despair or blank annoyance.  Famously, 'they' hate being laughed at - and so, it goes on the ever-growing pile of stuff ripe for re-writing or detournment.