I had intended this week to add my own thoughts to the Jermey Paxman inspired debate about to whom poets are actually speaking with their work. However, having just heard of the sad death at 56 of Rik Mayall my thoughts have lurched towards his grotesque caricature of a character that was ‘Rik’. The self-titled ‘People’s Poet’ was a brilliantly observed creation originally created as part of Mayall’s stand-up before being magnified into the television version which found ‘fame’ in ‘The Young Ones’.
The original stage version of ‘People’s Poet’ was, arguably, more devastating because of its understated attack on the pretensions of the performance poetry which Mayall had undoubtedly witnessed in his student and early career days. Now, as with most media ‘storms’ (rather like the political ‘earthquakes’ of late) the reporting of Paxman’s comments has involved a lot of cherry picking his press release for juicy quotes and a Romanesque banishment of both nuance and context. That said, if the main thrust of Paxman’s argument is that poets have become too remote from ‘the people’ and are only talking to each other then I would suggest that Mayall’s portrayal of Rik might be a rather entertaining way of making those poets confront themselves.
In the last week or so I have seen numerous open-mic poets, professional poets and first timers appear at readings and gigs and would argue that the majority of those I have been fortunate to see and hear are either trying to or succeeding at talking to the public. I have seen first timers nervously stand in front a microphone and, with shaking hand and voice, deliver some gems of lines which anyone would be proud to have written and pleased to have heard. I have seen regular open-mic performers grow in stature as their words and confidence respond to their own improving abilities. I have also seen one or two that, if pretension were an Olympic sport or disappearing up one’s own arse had a World Cup, would find themselves with a stack of medals. The common factor for the tiny minority in the latter group is that, like the Rik Mayall character, they don’t have the wit or the gorm to understand that they even have a need to have a serious word with themselves.
Which leads me back to ‘Rik’. As with most people born at the back end of the 60s the whole Young Ones/Comic Strip/Alternative Caberet comedians were our rite of passage as we turned into comprehensive school 12 and 13 year olds, much in the same way as Punk had been for our older brothers, sisters and cousins. We began to think about comedy and jokes in a completely different and more inventive manner than the lowest common denominator bow tied, racist and sexist crap that we were used to. Young teenagers wrote anarchic satires for school fanzines and this also included attempts at politically motivated, observational poetry. The problem with this though, was the inevitable slips into pretension, especially with the poetry. And that’s where ‘Rik’ comes in to save the day.
The following clip is from 1981 and one which I have used in poetry workshops and in formal English Literature A Level lectures and lessons. It is also the ‘Jiminy Cricket’ that sits on my shoulder every time I re-draft and edit a poem. If this clip has any worth other than its brilliantly judged comedic value then, for me, it is my bullshit filter. I can’t claim that I have never written pretentious crap because I am aware that I have. But, if my process is augmented, or even adulterated, by this Rik Mayall performance then that is just as valuable to me as any advice I’ve taken on board from any number of poets whom I respect and admire. Thank you Rik Mayall and thank you for ‘Rik’, Alan B’Stad, the Bass player from Bad News and ‘Richie’ from Bottom.
Bob Hill
