BEFORE our interview I have a vague notion of asking Limmy if he’s ever worried about writer’s block. The answer quickly becomes apparent without the question ever needing to be asked.

He can talk, our Brian Limond, and he knows it. “Oh sorry,” he says, more than once. “I’ve went and out-rambled myself.”

Limond may call it rambling but his stream of consciousness responses to anything I put to him are funny, frank and thoughtful.

More than once he finishes a soliloquy and then asks me what the question was. On not a single occasion can I remember.

Limond is about to return to television for the first time in four years with Limmy’s Homemade Show, a collection of comedy clips filmed on his own and that claw back a bit of credibility for selfie sticks.

They are trademark Limmy: dark, bizarre, observant and bonkers, with Glasgow the ever-present extra character. The sketches are funny but one is heartbreakingly sad. “I find heartbreaking stuff really funny. That's my way of expressing it and interpreting it.” Here he can’t help but put on a Posh Glasgow voice, sending himself up at the pretentious notion of “interpreting”.

"People don't talk about sad things. Well, they do in Glasgow though. Stand at a bus stop and somebody will tell you their life story and that’s Glasgow. I’ve been in pubs where there’s been old guys that just tell you that they just buried their son a fortnight ago, he died of an OD. None of this keep it in, that’s private. Just out with it.

"And then you go to other places and realise they don’t do that."

Limond has spoken often and openly about his mental health and he chats at length about it, about how it’s currently taken “a wee dip”.

Limond, who grew up in Carnwadric, on the South Side, describes himself as having been “dead f***ing angry” for a long time, before he started taking the antidepressant medication Citalopram.

“On the pills I was just happy.” He came off Citalopram but kept up the behaviours he’d developed while taking them.

Where Old Brian would have raged, shouted at people in the street, New Brian is Zen about his fellow man.

“If I thought that by getting angry folk would really remember, really make a change and they would tell 10 of their pals and it would spread like a virus and everybody would get better I would do it, but I don't think it does, what's the point in getting angry?"

As well as the new BBC show, Limond is currently touring a live show around the UK and Ireland, Limmy’s Vines. He introduces the Vines – short clips shown on the now-defunct website – and then takes part in a Q&A afterwards. The Glasgow shows were all sell-outs, testament to the popularity of his dark humour.

Somehow we turn onto the topic of racism and Limond riffs on the frustration he feels at the hypocrisy of not welcoming in asylum seekers and refugees.

He talks about the Carnwadric of his youth. “There were lots of families, good families, trying to bring up the weans as best they can. But there was also a lot of stabbings, shootings, people getting full of jellies, looking to wreck the place, vandalising the place, graffiti, putting trolleys in the burn, glue sniffing, everything was wrecked, smashed in.

“It wasn't a complete warzone, just trouble and fighting, everybody fighting, das [dads] fighting, junkies, just that general degradation and ripping the tiles off things. That’s Glasgow, Glasgow's history, gang culture and Glasgow's almost proud of being like that. Nobody gave a f*** about it. I know people who grew up where I grew up, they never had one complaint about it. That's just how it was. And I asked them recently, what's it like, how's Carnwadric now? And they say ‘It's all went to pot. You've got these asylum seekers now and they're all kind of hanging about.’”

Throughout his comedy back catalogue, Limond uses Glasgow and her inhabitants as backdrops and props.

During our interview the city doesn’t disappoint. At this point a woman comes over to our table smiling. She’s a fan and has stopped at our table to tell him about her daughter, a great admirer.

Limond says this only happens in Glasgow. He said: " I like people coming up to me and getting a photo with me but I like talking to folk. I’ve always got time for that."

Another Homemade sketch riffs on the notion that, throughout history, things have repeatedly “kicked aff". Doesn’t it feel, I ask him, like things should be kicking aff again – Trump, Brexit, March For Our Lives, Black Lives Matter, austerity, Russia … He doesn’t disagree.

“Maybe it's best we get all the nukes and we just blow the whole thing up and be done with it as quickly as possible. Nothing survives. Whole thing done. Get it over and done with. Fingers crossed, eh?”

Limond laughs so hard it forces him sideways in his seat, and who else could close with nuclear devastation but be devastatingly funny with it?

Limmy's Homemade Show starts on Thursday, April 5 on BBC 2 Scotland