Matthew Hardy

@seanlockcomedian @seanlock.comedian
Rising up the London stand-up comedy club ladder in 1993, I’d started to get paid gigs (after 12 months of poverty-stricken gradual improvement), many of which were ‘Door Splits’ (meaning, the Promoter splits the door-take equally with the comedians).
I’d been living in Welwyn Garden City, way too far out of London (grateful though I was for anywhere at all) and needed a room closer to the city, quickly.
I ended up staying with the most outrageous individual I’ve ever known (who became a great mate, the comedian Malcolm Hardee, pictured in the middle, but that’s a whole other story), and that opportunity came about because I’d been telling anyone who’d listen within the comedy community (I didn’t know anyone else) that I was desperately lacking in both money and a place to live.

After an early paid Door Split gig at a well-attended club I won’t name, another act (who I met for the first time that night) named Sean Lock, offered me a lift to Kings Cross station (where most changeover train routes threaded through: trains I couldn’t afford tickets for, so I’d be worried about inspectors the whole time) and, having delivered a good show, I spoke excitedly to him about how awesome it was to be have been paid £20 pounds.

“TWENTY POUNDS!” Sean said, loudly and incredulously.

“Yes”, I said, “I’ve been doing open-spots (free 5 minute trials) for a year now and it’s great to have gotten good enough to get paid”

“You told the Promoter you were skint and needed somewhere to stay, didn’t you”, Sean said.

“Yeah, and they said they’d try to help me out if they could”, I replied, enthusiastically.

“Help you out?”, he said, “The rest of us got £120 pounds each!”.

I’d been lonely and thought I was about to cry, at which point Sean pulled over, took £50 pounds out of his wallet and shoved it in my hand.

“Now we’ve both been paid the same”, he said, with a smile.

And then

“You’re not in the outback anymore cobber. Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open. And by the way, I loved your ‘Windy Day’ routine”

He dropped me off and I recall this all concisely because I was keeping a daily diary back then.

People remember kindness