I haven’t seen Steven for about 5 years but I regularly remember things about him that make me smile.
He did the funniest Frank Butcher impression I’ve ever seen.
He used to buy a can of diet coke from the same newsagent every morning and grin each time the Indian woman behind the counter called out the price, “45”, because she sounded just like the guy on the Cornershop record, Brim Full of Asha.
His reason for eating fatty food - the cholesterol would keep his heart nice and warm.
That funny stupid/surprised look he did with his glasses hanging halfway off his face.
The way he found humour in all things hateful, generally laughing at and taking the piss out of the disabled, the mentally ill, victims of abuse, cancer patients, kids with leukaemia, AIDS victims, dogs with cancer on Animal Hospital, child murder victims and people afflicted with spasmosis.
If he could come back for 5 minutes he would probably use the time to send an email to all of his friends to see who could come up with the best joke about his death.
Goodbye Steven, you’ll be sadly missed.
Tim
2 comments:
The main thing I remember about Steven is laughing with him. This seems to be a common theme in the messages written here and Steven was certainly one of the funniest people I've met.
I knew him from his time in Brighton, first meeting him, I think, at a pub quiz at the London Unity and look back with fond memories of crying with laughter at his jokes, which were often offensive but always funny.
There seemed to be no situation, disability or ailment he couldn't find humour in.
Another memory is a strange period of Steven's life when he rented the smallest flat I think I've ever seen, just off Brighton seafront. He seemed to like it but it was literally a wardrobe with a bed and toilet somehow crammed in.
I gradually lost touch with him around the time he left Brighton. I often thought about getting back in touch but never got round to it. There never seemed any rush until now, when its too late.
His death, which is such a tough word to write, has come as a real shock and makes me wish I had a time machine, something I'd like to think he'd have approved of, if only for the bizarre opportunity of telling the time travelling version of me a dirty joke.
I'll miss him.
This is slightly edited version of Tim's post for those of a nervous disposition ie me. For the uncensored version please see the drafts - if you don't have access to drafts - give me a shout. AF
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