Book review: Surprisingly down to earth, and very funny by Limmy

Alan Partridge might disagree, but being on TV is not the measure of success it once was. When Limmy’s Show faded from our screens after three series, Internet veteran Brian Limond simply migrated online, the ideal medium for his distinctive approach to comedy. Between reading chapters of this book, I watched him compose a dance track in real time on the streaming platform Twitch, and most nights he can be seen live-streaming games or improvising short stories of the kind found in his previous two books, Daft Wee Stories and That’s Your Lot. He’s become an accomplished Twitter provocateur too, his tweets after every celebrity death – “Had the pleasure of meeting … at a charity do once. He was surprisingly down to earth, and very funny” – still sometimes quoted by mainstream media as genuine tributes. So when he turned to writing an autobiography there was really only one title it could have.

Limmy’s journey to stardom from the Carnwadric council estate on the south side of Glasgow has been a bumpy one. He dropped out of school, got into trouble with the law and took so much acid he acquired the nickname “Limmy the Tripper”. But it was in these unpromising circumstances that he discovered his ability to entertain, amusing friends with improvised LSD-fuelled skits well into the small hours.

The germ of this autobiography was a request to write about mental health issues, and his mental state remains its central thread. Lots of celebrities will boast, “I’ve always felt a bit different.” Few will go further and admit that “There was something about me and other people that just did not fucking click” or “I sometimes wonder if I’m a psychopath”. That feeling of disconnection may have shaped his unique, slightly disturbing brand of comedy, but it’s also brought struggles with depression and alcoholism. More than once, he writes, he has come close to killing himself, adding chillingly, “Suicidal feelings are like coming home. They brought me closer to myself.”

Limmy writes with a disarming, almost childlike, frankness. But there’s a glint in his eye too. He tells of being strip-searched by police in the early ‘90s, knowing that the officers would see that he had trimmed his pubic hair, an uncommon habit back then, and admits, “Part of me liked the feeling that they were maybe wondering what I was into.” That compulsion to nudge people out of their comfort zone is abundantly evident here. Candour alone doesn’t account for the amount of space he devotes to his first wank or the extent to which his sexual development was blighted by “fanny fright”.

Because, as well as being a compelling first-person account of living with mental health issues, Surprisingly Down to Earth is, as the title promises, very funny. Uproariously, even. Limmy’s chatty, seemingly off-the-cuff patter marks him out as a natural storyteller, and the humour is easy and unforced, allowed to grow organically out of his skewed outlook on the world. And it’s genuinely interesting to see how Limmy’s varied talents, obsessions, hang-ups and life experiences coalesced into a successful career achieved on his own terms.

ALASTAIR MABBOTT