The death of Bernard Manning marks the end of an era in comedy and will force liberals once again to wrestle with the question: why was a man who ought to have been offensive so bloody funny? Answer: Because he was bloody funny. That’s it. That’s all there was to it. Those who think he was obsessed by race – his prejudice, such as it was, reflected his age, rather than his inherent nastiness – simply underestimate the comic brilliance and range of the man. Try: “I once bought my kids a set of batteries for Christmas with a note on it saying, toys not included.” Or: “I went to see Pavarotti sing last week. Terrible, miserable man. He doesn’t like you joining in, does he?” RIP.
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