I AWOKE the other morning to see Billy Connolly was trending on Twitter.

My timeline was awash with images of him, people sharing their favourite clips from his stand-up routines and sharing stories of the times they bumped into him.

Immediately, I feared the worst and my stomach twisted itself into a knot.

Surely not, I thought. Have we not been through enough in the last year?

Fortunately, it turned out it was just because it was his birthday.

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Billy Connolly featured heavily in my childhood.

He always seemed to be on the telly and he was often quoted in conversation by my granny and granda.

Half a dozen VHS tapes were lined up in our living room with bits of masking tape stuck to them bearing his name.

By the age of about eight I had watched and memorised almost all of his routines and I would break into a smile whenever I encountered something he’d spoken about in everyday life.

Even though much of what he was talking about went over my head.

He almost felt like a distant relative, such was his presence in my life and the way my family would talk about him with such warmth.

I’m sure at one point I even thought he was my granda’s brother.

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They both had moustaches after all and there was the odd picture of my granda with long hair back in the 70s.

I still remember what it was like seeing Billy Connolly for the first time.

It was a Saturday night at my granny’s, a Chinese was laid out in front of me and my granda stuck on An Audience with Billy Connolly.

He bounded about the stage, hair flowing behind him, in a glorious animal print shirt.

I was instantly transfixed by him and his presence. Then he opened his mouth. “My God,” I thought. “He talks just like us.”

I couldn’t believe it. Who was this man? Entertaining the biggest stars in the UK, making my granny roar with laughter in a way I’d never seen before and making wry observations that could’ve been about my life.

He spoke about the strange things parents say to their children and it was all things my maw and granny had said to me if I had been cheeky to them.

“Bike! Ah’ll gie ye bike!”.

Then there was the incontinence knickers routine, a masterclass in physical comedy.

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He had this way of telling stories that just completely drew me in like nothing had been able to before. I was hooked.

It was his dress sense as well that made me a fan.

You just didn’t see guys that dressed like him, especially not guys where I lived. It was as if he didn’t care what people thought of him, he just fired on whatever he liked.

I could barely imagine what that would be like.

On a school trip to the People’s Palace, we were shown a glass case containing his famous big banana boots.

I drew them in my jotter so I could always look at them.

Over the next few years, he was the man I wanted to be when I grew up.

The kind of guy who everyone loved, who always had people laughing and who just seemed so completely happy and so at ease with who he was.

As I got older, I’d read his books, passed onto me from my granny who’d tell me they were a “scream”.

I was stunned by how difficult his upbringing was and felt amazed that he’d managed to turn out the way he did and have the success he’s enjoyed.

I hadn’t known much about his early career in music until I was able to read more about him.

Then I set about downloading his albums from dodgy websites to put on my MP3 player to chuckle away at as I walked to and from school.

It was only the other morning, when I mistakenly thought he’d passed away, that I realised just how big a fan of Billy Connolly I

am.

I’ve tried my hand at comedy, in my writing and for telly stuff, but it just doesn’t come as easily to me as it must for him.

I agonise over every word I write, sounding them out to see what the funniest possible delivery would be while he just opens his mouth and out tumbles the funniest things you’ve ever heard.

You’ve either got it or you’ve not, I suppose, and Billy Connolly definitely has it.

If I can achieve even a tenth of what he has, then I’ll be more than happy.

I’ll be forever grateful to him for how much he’s made me and my family laugh over the years, God bless the Big Yin.