When people think of Cocoy Laurel, the first images that come to mind are those of a refined performer, an elegant presence on stage, and a voice that carried generations. He was a symbol of dignity, grace, and depth—on-screen and in public. But for those who knew him personally, like Bart Guingona, Cocoy was something else entirely behind closed doors. He was witty. Playful. And downright hilarious.

In a moving and lighthearted recollection, Bart Guingona recently opened up about the side of Cocoy Laurel that many never saw—the man who cracked jokes before curtain call, who laughed so hard he cried, and who had a wicked sense of humor hidden behind his polished persona.

“Cocoy was always the class act,” Bart began, his voice thick with memory. “But he also had this way of disarming you with humor. He’d drop one-liners so dry and sharp, you wouldn’t even realize you’d been roasted until five seconds later.”

Bart paints the picture of a man who didn’t just light up the stage, but also the dressing room, the rehearsal space, and every dinner table he ever graced. “People thought he was serious all the time—but no. He had this timing that could rival any stand-up comic.”

During one particular production, Bart recalls a scene that called for intense emotion. “We were all trying to stay in character, and Cocoy—well, he just leaned over and whispered the most ridiculous line under his breath. I broke. I couldn’t continue the scene. He knew exactly when to cut the tension. Not to sabotage, but to bring life. That was his genius.”

There was always a twinkle in Cocoy’s eye when he knew he was being mischievous. Whether it was mimicking a director’s stern voice, poking fun at backstage chaos, or playfully teasing his co-stars with exaggerated impressions, Cocoy had a way of making everything lighter without losing respect for the craft.

“He was never disrespectful,” Bart clarified. “He had the utmost reverence for the art. But he also understood that laughter was part of the rhythm of life. It was how he connected.”

In one now-legendary moment, Cocoy pranked an entire crew by pretending to lose his voice hours before a major performance. Panic spread like wildfire. Calls were made. Vocal warmups were redone. And then—just minutes before showtime—he burst into song from the wings, hitting his notes flawlessly with a laugh that echoed into the hall.

“We should’ve been mad,” Bart laughed. “But we were in awe. That’s Cocoy. Just when you think he’s about to fall, he soars.”

But it wasn’t just theatrical mischief or punchlines that defined his humor. Cocoy’s comedy was also kind. He never made fun of people’s weaknesses. Instead, he lifted spirits with observations about everyday life, with self-deprecating wit, and with the wisdom of someone who’d seen it all and still found joy.

“He could walk into a room full of egos and deflate it with a smile,” Bart said. “That was his real talent.”

Even during difficult times, Cocoy’s humor stayed intact. In moments of pain, uncertainty, or illness, he still found a reason to smile—and to make others do the same.

“He made jokes even in the hospital,” Bart revealed. “The nurses adored him. He’d tease them, laugh with them, make them feel at ease. That’s who he was, till the end.”

In fact, some of Bart’s most treasured memories of Cocoy come not from the limelight but from late-night talks, shared meals, and the in-between moments where laughter flowed more freely than any script could capture.

“There was one night,” Bart recalled, “after a show, we were just sitting outside under the stars. He looked up and said, ‘You know, stars are just gossiping lightbulbs—each with their own scandal to tell.’ We laughed for hours. I’ll never forget that.”

And now, with Cocoy gone, what remains is more than just a legacy of performances or awards. It’s the sound of his laughter that lingers in the hearts of those who knew him best. A sound that brought comfort, connection, and sometimes chaos—but always joy.

“You can’t fake that kind of light,” Bart said, eyes misty but smiling. “Cocoy was the real thing.”

In remembering Cocoy Laurel, it’s easy to think of him as the gentleman artist, the musical icon, the respected name in Philippine entertainment. But through the eyes of someone like Bart Guingona, we are reminded of the more personal truth: Cocoy was also the friend who cracked jokes during mic checks, who impersonated directors just to make the cast laugh, and who found humor even in heartbreak.

He was not just a man of stage and song. He was a man of laughter. Of warmth. Of real, raw joy.

And that, perhaps, is the part of Cocoy Laurel that will be missed most deeply.

Not just the singer. Not just the actor. But the storyteller with a punchline. The gentleman with a mischievous grin. The icon who could make a whole room laugh—and then sing.

As Bart Guingona so perfectly put it: “He wasn’t just a legend. He was our inside joke, our backstage relief, our favorite laugh when no one else was watching.”

And in that laughter, Cocoy lives on.