The word according to Limmy

The man known to most of us as Limmy, from his BBC sketch show, is clearly not afraid to use his own language.

That’s why, after sending an overformal request to “Mr Limond” for an interview, I worried I had been too stuffy and formal in doing so. Was I perhaps the kind of pretentious West End sort he ridicules in his sketches, webcams and Vines?

He came breezing in to the Oran Mor, dropped his rucksack on a chair and gave me a hug.

I got Mr Limond (“Ye can call me Brian!”) an Americano.

Does he have much trouble with his thick Glasgow accent?

“It depends on who I’m talking tae,” he says. “If it’s wan of the folk down South I won’t say ‘see ye the morra’.

“I’ll say “tomorrow” because that’s what they say. When I had a web company, in client meetings you’d feel ye had to speak properly but I wouldnae and I’d wonder if they were thinking: ‘Who’s this wee f***** ned?’ I was good at what I did but ye had the suits who’d speak one way and I didnae. Nobody spoke like me even though we were all in Glesga. Everyone spoke properly and thought of me as some daft wee guy.”

Didn’t he feel the pressure to “speak nice” as so many young Scottish children are told when they slip into slang?

He agrees there was pressure, but laughs, saying: “I cannae f****** change. I’m no gonnae start speaking like other folk. And I got good at what I did so I didnae have to change.”

So this is indeed connected to confidence? Once you’ve proved you’re not “a daft wee guy” then comes the assurance of speaking naturally and not propping yourself up with formal language or a posh accent.

He agrees, saying, “See if it wisnae for the fact I had the telly thing [Limmy’s Show] and I was daen well at the web stuff before, then maybe I would think I need to change a wee bit because

I don’t want anybody going: “who’s this c***?”

His success means he’s free to speak in the dialect which comes naturally to him, though he admits this brings limitations. He knows Limmy’s Show, for example, will never be broadcast on BBC America. “No matter how funny it was it’d never happen because people would be saying I cannae understand that.”

In fact, the show, winner of a Scottish BAFTA, didn’t even make it to the UK-wide BBC. Maybe he’s just too Glesga for the BBC Establishment? To test this, I choose the quintessential BBC – Radio 4 – and ask if he’d modify his accent if they invited him on air? “No,” he says. “If we’re aw “better together” and aw that then let’s learn each other’s dialects. If someone in Britain’s going what does “hauns” mean? then they should f***** travel a wee bit more.”

There’s no doubt Limmy’s confident in his own language, and this must be true because he’s just written a book, the aforementioned Daft Wee Stories, out now.

It’s a collection of 71 stories, some lengthy, and some, like “The Fat Workie”, which are just one-and-a-half pages long, but all have the surreal humour he’s known for. One is about a poor bloke who discovers he has “an arse without a hole”, another mocks the pretentious people flocking to buy “luxury apartments” and those who follow him on Twitter will be delighted to see the final story is called “Rennie”.

The book is written in standard English, not Glasgow slang, so why the change from his usual style? “I wrote it in normal English,” he says.

“I’m not interested in making a f****** Glaswegian statement, like here’s the Scots! Also, I want everybody to be able to read it. It’s in international English rather than my own wee corner. But I can translate it on the go when I’m reading it, so it still sounds like me when I read it aloud.”

Those who’ve bought tickets to his book tour, the Glasgow shows of which are being held in Oran Mor where we now sit, can rest assured that Limmy will still sound like Limmy. Indeed he describes the book tour as “reading the stories, a bit of patter, then a book signing” and says he might “throw in a bit of Falconhoof” which will keep his stalwart fans happy.

Mention of Falconhoof reminds me that Limmy is known for sketches, webcams, vines, podcasts and infamous Twitter agitation, all of which can be seen as short, snappy stuff, so how did he make the leap to writing a 350-page book?

“The publisher got in touch with my agent and suggested a book. It was meant to be called The World According To Limmy and be some kind of odds and ends, some of my thoughts, but I wisnae really into that.

“I’m not that much of a big shot to have a book on a shelf somewhere in England where they’re going: ‘Who the f*** is he?’”

This doesn’t sound like a lack of confidence, just realism. He certainly had a brutal, realistic approach to the writing of the book, saying he trained himself to do 2000 words a day, reaching 40,000 in just three weeks, but then “binned most of it.”

Other writers might agonise over “binning” thousands of words, but not Limmy. There’s a practical approach to his work, and it’ll be that same hard-headedness which has let him produce such variety, from webcam skits to TV sketch shows, a collaboration with Charlie Brooker, short stories and, next year a live stage show at the Armadillo.

But just as I’m admiring his fearlessness he goes back to the prospect of his book tour and laughs, saying “What is it ye dae at a thing like this?”