I’ve been watching a rockumentary on BBC4, my favourite tv channel. It’s about Billy Connolly. The funniest man ever to walk this planet with a Scottish accent. No, that’s too limiting, possibly the funniest man ever. Anywhere. Any accent.

The program(s) are about Billy returning to Scotland, to ‘his’ Glasgow, and relating his history. From shipyard welder to possibly the biggest stand-up comedian in the world. And its a great story. A fairy tale. His return is mildly saddened by his Parkinson’s disease, but only partly. Because although his movements may be restricted, his mind isn’t. Or ‘is-nee’, as he might say. A lot of what he says is unintelligible to English speakers. But its the bits in between that positively slay you.

I saw Billy in about 1978/79 in Victoria. Three hours of non-stop insanity and hilarity to the point where you feel you’re going to actually vomit if it doesn’t stop. All just telling stories about a bloke in a pub, about a bus stop queue, about a million things which everyone can relate to. It’s what he does. Takes the normal and illuminates it under his own brilliantly manic spotlight of sheer fun and fantasy.

Billy Connolly is revered in Scotland. He stormed into the public eye on a Parkinson show in 1975 and never looked back. He had ‘taken’ England. With his laughing eyes, with his amazing wit, his effortless charisma and with a brilliant joke about his wife’s bum. He returned from that trip a hero and has never lost the love of his nation. Because he is and always will be a Scotsman. Wherever he chooses to live.

But where he differs from other Scottish ‘ambassadors’, like, f’rinstance, Andy Murray, is that he is just so lovely. And so normal. And so loving.

The second program is about the 3 artists, all Scottish, obvs, commissioned for portraits of the man. And these artists are big. Respected. World renowned. Yet got jittery that the Big Yin was coming to visit them. In person. Even though Billy is all love and respect and total humility.

They painted and the 3 portraits were then blown up and posted onto walls in Glasgow. And Billy, on the street, is accosted by a little old lady who hugs and kisses him. And a geezer. Great Scottish bruiser, ‘working man’, loud and gruff. Who grabs Billy, plants a kiss on his cheek and says ‘yer’n’inspirrration, Billy!’

There’s no finer accolade than the respect of your peers. More powerful than Oscars.

I cried.

Happy Monday

A xxxx