Tobias Persson pays tribute to his late agent, Mick Taylor

The man quit his job and sold his house to become my comedy manager. That alone tells you something about his extraordinary passion and commitment. Or madness.

You could not make him up, you really couldn’t; the energetic rambler, the loveable whirlwind and sweet buffoon that was Michael Taylor. 

Every promotor and comedian on the circuit – this Swedish jester included – has dozens of funny and bizarre stories about him: some of them true, some made up, but could have easily been true.

2009 was the year it all happened for me: my lovely kids were born (twin girls) and a couple of months later I met Michae, who craved even more attention.

It started with a phone call from fellow comedian Magnus Betner, saying he´d met a ‘crazy English guy’ on holiday. ‘His name is Michael Taylor and he knows everyone in the comedy business. He wants to become our comedy manager! Wanna meet him?’

My heart started beating at the very thought of performing in the UK. I almost had too much respect for British comedy to ever considering trying it myself. 

But Mick and his ever-supportive wife Sherry came over to Stockholm, saw me perform (in Swedish, but Mick said he understood my funny bones) and quickly convinced me to do gigs in english. Just like that. 

So, a few months later I found myself in a cellar in London, doing a short five minute spot. There was never a big dramatic moment – suddenly we were just off and ‘in business’.

Mick started a company called Loose Cannons and the next three years I flew back and forth between Stockholm and London, loosing of money, eating chips, shaping my English act, meeting new friends, whilst Mick was on the phone 24/7, getting us gigs, constantly sending (way too many) daily emails, and living of his savings from his old firm and previous house.

It was a rough, bumpy but also tremendously exiting period. We all sacrificed a lot and worked bloody hard. 

Looking back, it feels like a weird dream or a film cliché, where the ‘crazy’ bigmouth manager just turns up with a big cigar (and even bigger words) driven only by his own vision. But Mick really was that crazy guy who took risk and he got results - God knows how.

Suddenly there were interviews, festivals and better and better gigs. Like a cross between Woody Allen’s comedy manager in Broadway Danny Rose and a funny bloke down the pub, he charged forward, armed with a smile and quasi-Broadway quips, like: ‘If opportunity doesn´t knock, build a door!’

He liked to think of himself as a ‘people person’ and he really was – if that phrase includes going up to total strangers, telling dirty jokes. 

Mick adored comedy as an artform, but most of all he loved to just hang out with comedians, swop silly jokes, stories and make people feel good. Nothing more, nothing less. 

In a business becoming more cynical, predictable and money driven he really stood out as whirlwind of optimism, ideals and wearing his heart on his sleeve. 

Sadly, his big heart stopped beating a few days ago, after two years battling cancer.

Thank you for opening all those doors for me and my comedy friends, Mick.

Im glad you had a rich, intense life and feel truly blessed to have been part of it. 

Cue: knob gag!

Published: 3 Mar 2015