A Glimmer Of Reassurance

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Basically what the description says - just a short, whimsical little treat hopefully all of you will love, wether it's for the comedy, the music, or the fact I'm not ranting about Ed Gamble, James Acaster or John Robins for once 😂❤️

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"You need to stop focusing your life on comedy!"

I held back a sigh as I heard the same old rants from my mum for the billionth time. I hadn't even started on my revision yet; I'd got home five minutes ago. All I'd done was tell my sister a story about one of my teachers seeing the Inbetweeners cast at Thorpe Park when they were filming and my nagging mum had taken this as an obsessive rant that would lead to no work getting done whatsoever.

"If she'd heard me say I had to get on directly after that, she wouldn't be on me like a moth to a flame." I thought, trying to squirm away.

"It's not even funny!" She snapped, referring to the comedy.

That was what really got to me; just weeks ago we'd been reduced to bellyaching laughter at the material of Ed Gamble and James Acaster, exactly two weeks apart from each other. She'd said she'd enjoyed every second of it, so what exactly had inclined her to change her mind? Nothing, we both knew that.

I managed to finally escape her nagging, shutting myself in my room and instantly flopping backwards onto the bed. My eyes misted a little - it was funny, it had to be. I wouldn't have laughed otherwise, and I wouldn't have rewatched any of it as much as I did either. It was funny, I knew that deep within my aching heart.

My vision clearing, my eyes drifted around my room and caught sight of the objects decorating it. It was all sorts of pinks, blues and yellows, with splashes of pretty much every other colour held at least somewhere in the decor. But what really jumped out at me was all of the pictures and figures on the walls and shelves.

Covering pretty much every wall, shelf and even the ceiling, were all my rock music icons. The Beatles by my bed, David Bowie above me as I slept, Elton John finding a way to add sparkle and shimmer to every space he took up, and last but definitely not least was Freddie Mercury, arguably taking up more space than any of them. In a calendar on the door, as a wooden puppet on one of the shelves, depicted looking pretty in pink on a pop art style framed picture with the rest of the band, books, vinyl records, figures, and your run of the mill poster.

I sighed; it had been so long since I'd truly sat and listened to Queen. It'd been so long since I'd truly sat and listened to any of these people, for that matter. My vinyl records were collecting dust above the player, the player itself now becoming home to whatever random trinkets I brought home with me.

The reason this was, and you've probably guessed it yourselves, was that my life lately had been taken over by comedy.

From the moment I watched Russell Howard while home alone one night by the recommendation of my best friend, I was hooked. Soon enough more acts followed: Josh Widdicombe, Rob Beckett, Fern Brady, Jack Whitehall, John Robins, James Acaster, Ed Gamble (he was the favourite) - you name it, I'd watched at least one of their specials somewhere, sometime. Comedy had well and truly taken over.

At the time, it didn't occur to me how much I was abandoning my music. I still listened to it - I'm surprised my mum didn't start singing Kiss The Bride along with me whenever it started playing in the shower, I'd heard it so many times - so I just thought comedy would be an additional thing of mine to like at the same time. But unlike my James Bond obsession, which had died in the drive by shooting along with Tracy within a few weeks, or my week and a half long obsession with (of all things) the Disney film The Great Mouse Detective, this comedy thing was going to last longer than I'd thought. Much, much longer.