When I lived in London back In 1998, I got to vote in the London mayoral referendum.  It was the first time I had voted, and seemed doubly important - as I wasn’t just voting to decide a candidate, but possibly changing the system. They had said on the news that they were worried about a low-turnout, so they would “accept anything written in either box”. I decided to test this by writing in the Yes box “Yes - as long as it isn’t Jeffrey Archer” 1,230,714 other people agreed with me on the yes, and presumably the lack of respect for Baron Jeffrey, and 18 months later the News of the World outed him for perjury, ruling him out of the running for London Mayor, and ruling him in to HMP Belmarsh. London’s reward was lots more Ken Livingstone, and then Boris.

Today I voted in the Bristol Mayoral Referendum. I voted for a mayor, for many reasons, including the simple fact that I cannot see Batman taking a call from “the council leader”. Alfred would take a message from “the council leader”, whereas the Mayor would clearly get straight through. Also, a mayor will give us the power and unity we need to reinvade Wales. And Cornwall.

As far as I can tell there are three reasons why we shouldn’t vote for a mayor:

1. The current system is wonderful. I’m not sure I can completely agree with this. We’ve had new councils at a similar rate to post-war Italy having new governments, and it has done us about as much good. The schools are crocked, and the execrable transport system is no doubt the main reason that so many people resort to cycling. The current crop of councillors seemed fairly involved in the “No Campaign”, you would have thought that they might have the skills to persuade us to vote No. The sort of person they need at the No campaign is a charismatic leader, able to work across the parties, forge consensus and unite everyone. Oh. Oh dear.
2. Two is that “we don’t know what we are voting for”. This is true. The set up of the city doesn’t involve a mayor, so we cannot tell what his powers will be. But one thing you clearly cannot do - is change the laws, organise everything at huge expense, and then discover in a referendum that Bristol doesn’t want a mayor. That would be ridiculous. The mayor also has no stationery, desk, or phoneline. He will need these too, but they can be arranged after Bristol has voted yes too.
3. Three is that it will be too expensive. If a mayor costs a couple of million quid a year, split over the population of Bristol, that’s less than a fiver each. That seems reasonable for a sense of direction, an ambassador for the city, and someone who will get things done. So let’s vote yes. We’ll then sit down and work out what powers the mayor should have, where exactly he should be mayor of, get him some nice business cards, and a batphone.

I was going to illustrate these ponderings with Paul Daniels (”say yes, Paul”) before I settled on the man from Del Monte. Fingers crossed the people of Bristol say “yes”, if only to give the bloggers something else to type about besides local eateries and pop-up shops. Fingers crossed. And everything crossed that we get the candidates that Bristol deserves. I bloody love Bristol.

It’s all very well naming names and finding misuse of the word Literally but I do have to track down some of the misusers. There are a number of high-profile misusers as we know: Simon Cowell, Fearne Cotton, Jamie Oliver. But few are as wonderfully active in their misuse - as Jamie Redknapp. It is amazing how he has absolutely no idea what “literally” means - and how he adds it to any sentence which isn’t quite hyperbolic enough just to intensify the meaningless punditry of the day. Here’s a little top 20 - of his literally misuses. If you would like to join my literally facebook campaign - join here!

1. “This new ball is going quicker than ever - it literally explodes off the player’s foot.”

2. “Alonso and Sissoko have been picked to literally sit in front of the back four.” Jamie Redknapp on the Liverpool midfielders taking it easy for the Champions League game against Barcelona.

3. ‘He’s literally turned him inside out.’

4. “That cross to Rooney was literally on a plate”

5. “Evra’s literally left him for dead there.” Jamie commentating on the Community Shield.

6. “Centre forwards have the ability to make time stand still. And when Chopra got the ball, it literally did just that.”

7. “He literally turns into a greyhound” Talking about Michael Owen

8. “That could literally kick start their season” - on Man City vs Chelsea

9. “Scholes has such a great footballing brain. He’ll see a picture in his head and literally paint it in front of you.”

10. “He had to cut back inside onto his left, because he literally hasn’t got a right foot”

11. “He literally chopped him in half in that challenge”

12. “The ball is literally glued to Messi’s boot”

13. “Messi literally sends people out of the stadium with his skill”

14. “Wayne Rooney literally destroyed Tottenham on his own.”

15. “Cissé literally has pace to burn”

16. “He literally turned on a sixpence”

17. “Gerrard has been amazing. He’s literally covered every blade of grass on the pitch”

18. “He’s literally sold the defender a dummy”

19. “Martin Jol’s head is literally on the chopping block.”

20. “The crowd behind the goal are literally going insane.”

My favourite quote from him is probably when he said “I think Peter Schmeichel will be a father figure for Kasper (Schmeichel)” but he didn’t mention the L-word when he could have rather legitimately.

I am still working on a plan to teach Jamie Redknapp a lesson: Literally.

The World Marbles Championship - Tinsley Green

The World Marble Championships - The Greyhound Pub Arena, Crawley. April 7th 2007. Our team name: Miss Marble Investigates. After a strong game in round 1 we were knocked out by the super-experienced and previous champions: the Handcross 49ers. They were properly good – they even had a team hat and badge.

Losing our Marbles - The Tournament Report: The World Marble Championships - The Greyhound Pub Arena, Crawley. April 7th 2007. Team Name: Miss Marble Investigates

After a strong game in round 1 we were knocked out by the super-experienced and previous champions: the Handcross 49ers. They were properly good – they even had a team hat and badge. Squad (in marble play order): James Thorley, Graham (a random Australian ringer – and the Statesman of the MMI team), Paul (capt.), Chirag (most hungover player), Steph (token woman) Ben (press liaison).

Game 1: Round 1: Miss Marble Investigates vs The Last Minuters, Ring Two.

Having been promised a bye into round 2 against the seeded Handcross 49ers, we were surprised to be told of a late entry to play us in round 1. Disappointed we trudged from the main ring with upwards of 200 spectators, to the second marble ring near the flooding outflow of the pub toilets, and decidedly less fragrant that the main ring.

Though we were disappointed to be in an area that brought back memories of the chemical toilets in a unpleasant Belgian cub camp in 1987, I was optimistic we would win from the moment I went eyeball to eyeball with the captain of the opposition for the marble-drop. The Last Minuters were a team of 4 young kids with 2 ringers who had previously played in “The Jolly Oddballs”. The opposition captain was about 12 and up to my navel. I psyched her out brilliantly. Her Mum told me off, but it was worth it. I knew we had the edge.

I’m not sure if it was tactical, but our first game began with about 6 straight misses of the centre marbles. Then something miraculous happened. We took them to pieces. We knocked 3 of their players out of the tournament – which meant they got half as many goes as us – and little chance of winning. The heat of the competition got to James slightly, after knocking a small ginger kid’s marble out of the ring, knocking him out of the game and whole tournament, he gestured at him in a “get out of here”-type manner attracting more ire from the assembled parents. Yes, we got some boos.

Consistent strikes from myself, Graham and James, put some points on the board for MMI, and had us safely in the lead before the miracle happened. Ben, a man with a degree of malcoordination that would leave you surprised he could dress himself, a man who knows nothing of sport. He approached the ring after a string of misses, and smacked 4 marbles off. Not one, but 4. Off the 6 foot ring. The crowd went wild. Both of them.

As it says in today’s Guardian: “Miss Marble Investigates take out the Last Minuters, most of whom are children, 8-3 in a game of startling incompetence.” Summed up perfectly.

Game 2:

Round 2: Miss Marble Investigates vs Handcross 49ers, Ring One: “The Centre Court” of the World Marbles Championship. We had probably already come further than our marble-playing abilities were meant to come. The 49ers had appeared in the tournament for at least the previous six years, and even brought their own marbles, something we considered cheating having hurriedly bought our game marbles from a small stall in the car park minutes before the game. At least they hadn’t brought their own team shell-suits like the Germans, so we could have a chance.

We even briefly discussed who would play our parts in the Disney “Cool Runnings”-like movie of our story – the team who dared to dream, taking on the champions and winning, winning back the trophy for England.

But no. The 49ers were beaten finalists in 2005 and 2006, after an impressive string of wins and weren’t about to lose to a bunch of hungover chancers, who by the time Round 2 came about, had consumed a good 5 or so pints each.

Watched by about two hundred, we were taken apart. Stuffed. TWO HUNDRED PEOPLE. That’s probably the biggest crowd I’ve ever played “sport” in front of. Amazing. Sadly we could put up little struggle in the 25-2 drubbing.

But at the end of the day, we had literally lost our marbles, and that was the whole point of the expedition.

More tales of beards, shellsuits, and Dodgeball-like sporting endeavor to follow shortly, and a whole chapter to come, for the mighty Literally book. And genuine hot action Matchplay shots on Youtube – in due course.

I am putting together a podcast /pilot radio programme on “Literally”. To cut up the show, and provide some background chatter - I need some people to say literally. Lots of literallies. I need it whispered, shouted, said as a question, generally pronounced in all manner of different ways. I’ll play some one at a time, all together in unison, and mishmashed together into a cacophony of literallies.

So if you have a microphone - please could you record as an mp3, (or any other type of file really), yourself saying “literally” several times in different ways? And then email it to me at LiterallyTsar@gmail.com.

[Thanks already to Ben, Keith, Zoe, Sarah, Ben, Can, and Becky for being quick off the mark!]

“It makes people so incredibly angry when you are getting up early in the morning, working really hard to try and do the right thing for your family and for your community, you are paying your taxes and then you see people literally in a different galaxy who are paying extraordinarily low rates of tax.”

Deputy Prime Minister Nick Clegg, this week.

I’m not sure I know what this means. I know what Mr Clegg wants it to mean, but that’s not what he is saying. By using the “L-word” in that sentence, he is saying that he means no idiom, metaphor - he means these very words. He is talking to us about people paying low rates of tax in another galaxy. No one worries about what taxes people may or may not be paying in other galaxies. It’s the sort of bilge usually left to the opening credit sequence of a Star Wars prequel.

There were worse places in the interview that he could have dropped the L-bomb - like when talking of the tax-avoiders’ “army of lawyers and accountants”, as they would be terribly underqualified - the best people to use in an army are soldiers. They’re really very good at it.

Nick Clegg - it’s about time someone literally taught you a lesson.