The Writer

He hadn’t expected to laugh today.

But laugh he did, and it was bloody great. Because he was laughing as he wrote. 

Amazing. He knew. You can’t write the comedy he writes, unless it makes you laugh. 

The last few days? Empty. Nothing funny. But today? It felt superb to be writing. Words were flowing and the laughs were real. 

He knew. Because it wasn’t just him laughing. His wife, Orla, came in with a brew. He showed her the piece. And she laughed. Straight away. 

No hesitation. She was giggling, then a full laugh. 

Brilliant.

What a great sound.