Another Literally show coming up soon: November 4.

Details are here: http://literallysellinglikehotcakes.eventbrite.com/

Dear (Mr/Miss/Mrs) Riley/Reilly,

I wonder if you could help me: I would like to live the life of Riley/Reilly. Literally.

My name is Paul, and I’m a writer and comedian, (in a sort of Dave Gorman vein), and am currently doing lots of things literally to reclaim the word “literally”. I am currently doing a (well-reviewed) stand-up comedy show, and writing a “Literally” book due to come out in mid-2011.  I literally teach an old dog new tricks, literally bite off more than I can chew, go to Hell and back, literally lose my marbles, etc. In October I plan to literally keep up with the Joneses. This project all started when I literally cycled from A to B. It was after travelling from A to B that I realised how crucial the L-word was, and how eroded my efforts were by the constant misuse of “literally”.

So what I would like to do, is to live the life of someone named Riley/Reilly for a day or two. Ideally this would include doing your chores, doing some aspect of your job, spending time with your mates/family/spouse, playing in any sports team, etc.

That’s a pretty big ask admittedly, but I’m just trying to find one Riley/Reilly with whom I can spend some interesting time whether it be a Radio5live presenter, cartoonist, or Countdown numbers person, or everyday Joe (Riley/Reilly).  As long as it has nothing to do with the BBC sitcom The Life of Riley which is so bad it bring tears to the eyes.

I am not a nutter. I am quite a lovely man, “wonderfully affable” even, according to Three Weeks, or “amiable” according to The Scotsman. If I need to persuade further, I’d like to offer anyone called Riley/Reilly two free tickets to any of my Literally shows until I have literally lived the life of Riley/Reilly. If any Riley/Reilly is reading this before Wednesday (28th) night - please do come to my next show - THE POLISH CLUB, ST PAUL’S ROAD, CLIFTON, BRISTOL. FREE/£5 SUGGESTED DONATION TO WATERAID. BOOK HERE! (though you don’t really have to book - as I’ll be taking the £5 off you at the door.

If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask.

Many thanks,

Paul

parryphernalia@btinternet.com

I’m still not sure how I found out about Ignite. I think someone sent me something on Twitter, but I don’t remember who what or when. But it is brilliant, and I’m so glad I discovered it and got involved. Ignite is a worldwide phenomenon with groups in cities all over the world and is very similar, and easier to say than Pecha Kucha. Ignite is doing short presentations of 20 slides which switch every 15 seconds. So each person gives a 5 minute presentation. Easy. there are hundreds of wonderfully diverse Ignite talks on subjects as diverse as How to do an Autopsy on a Whale, to sketch comedy, and now: to the word Literally.

So at Ignite Bristol #2, there was a very diverse group of talkers. I am now much more aware about toxins (phthalates) in sex toys, tobacco farming in Zambia, Bayesian Logic and how to do cryptic crosswords. The great thing about the talks is that they will all be online very shortly. So I can actually watch my 5 minutes on Literally, including the slides going wrong on Ignite’s Mac… and me getting slightly annoyed. But doing OK in the end. Bring on Ignite #3.

Cue AC/DC's hit: "Highway to Hell" or Chris Rea's "Road to Hell"

Few people can honestly correctly say they’ve literally been to Hell and back for a cause they believe in. I am one of those very people. And Hell is a goldmine (figuratively) for doing things literally. Hell is a fairly small village on the outskirts of Stjørdal a third of the way up Norway with a population of just under four hundred people. It is thirty kilometres to the East of Trondheim (Norway’s third largest city), and therefore an obvious place for Trondheim-Værnes airport. Or Barcelona-Værnes as it is known to customers of one Irish airline, and a mere 3200km coach-ride to Barcelona city centre.

I wandered out of the centre of Hell, a little westwards, along the railway line, and towards the fjord, treading over a light sprinkling of frozen snow. The waters of the fjord were dark, and disappointingly ice-free. A few hundred yards further on, back in some residential areas, I found exactly what I was looking for. A couple of small ponds, frozen solid: Hell was literally frozen over.

Music snobs will be pleased that piped through the shopping centre of Hell, was the music of Keane. And predictably Hell was full of little kids rolling around on “heelies”, crashing into my shins. There is little to sell Hell’s shopping centre. After I’d drunk more black coffee than anyone could ever want, I judder around, accidentally grossly miscalculated the exchange rate and buy 4 moose salami and 4 reindeer salami for almost a hundred pounds. Note to self – learn the 13-times-table better. I chatted to a few people, meeting the mother-in-law from Hell, and the Neighbours from Hell.

I wrote a postcard to my office. It included the line: “It will be a cold Day in Hell before I come back to work.” It was not very well received, at one stage almost invoking a disciplinary procedure against me because of it. Still, that’s probably the last time I will work for a small Christian charity.

Postcard from Hell

After a month of absence, DLOTW returns. Not with something I found on twitter, but one of the most ridiculous sentences I’ve heard. Apparently uttered in some sort of celebrity-based incarcerating reality show.

Coolio: “[My mom's] fried chicken would literally put on tennis shoes and run the f*** into your mouth”

Terrible.

Last week I crossed off another one of those “things to do before I die” when I appeared in the Bournemouth’s Daily Echo. Indeed for a few hours I was “7th most read story” before being edged down into 8th by a story about a spray-painted dead duck. I hadn’t actually spoken to them but they picked up the story from the earlier appearance in the Bristol Evening Post.

The curious thing was the headline: “Jamie Redknapp’s misuse of word is literally doing my head in”. A quote which was attributed to me. A worrying quote, not just because I didn’t actually say it, but because it doesn’t mean anything. It’s a criminal overuse of the L-word. Adding nothing to the sentence, and only serving to devalue further the L-word. Outrageous.

I shall complain naturally. No one misquotes the Literally Tsar!

It seems the reason they picked it up, is that Jamie Redknapp is from Bournemouth, and apparently still lives there. But sadly it turns out (though they attribute it to me), they are misusers.