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Monday 14th March 2005

I went to the Chortle awards tonight (results here). Only as a spectator, I knew I wasn't up for anything - unless I were to win Lifetime Achievement, which I was fairly confident would go to a) someone who had achieved something in their life b) someone who was nearly dead or dead and c) Malcom Hardee who qualified heavily on both counts. But I was actually quite pleased just to be invited. I haven't been to an awards show since we went to a few for On The Hour in 1992. So I've always had a healthy disregard for Awards show, mainly, if I am honest because they have had a healthy disregard for me. Yet however much I've pretended I don't care and that kind of thing doesn't matter to me, it does gall a little that according to the "experts" nothing I have done in the intervening 13 years has been worthy of their attention. On the other hand I quite like being able to call myself a non-award winning comedian, in the same way that I was able to boast (until the bastards at the Metro ruined it) that I had never had a 5 star review for any of my numerous Edinburgh shows. But inside all I want is to be loved and get the recognition of my peers (I am joking here, but you know, it would be nice to get some crumb from these fuckers).
Probably the last awards show I attended was the British Comedy Awards, which I went to twice and was so drunk that it is hard to distinguish what happened in which year. But certainly one year I ended up with my dress shirt covered in red wine and blood (I'd caught my finger on a wooden ball when having a go at the coconut shy - seriously) and talking to the guy who ran the Comedy Store trying to convince him that he should rebook me. He didn't call. And also Stew and me did heckle at one of the ceremonies a bit and when Angus Deayton went up to collect an award we were daring each other to shout "John Cleese" (who we felt he more than resembled in performance style) at him. I believe it was Stew who actually did this, and think you could just about hear it on telly and see Deayton's momentary confusion, which maybe explains our decade in the cold.
Of course there's always the possibility that I have been barred due to my general mediocrity, but that is too harsh to contemplate, so let's say it's because of Stewart shouting "John Cleese". He ruined my career there. Though weirdly the awards establishment seems to have forgiven him. Life is so unfair.
So I was on my best behaviour for the Chortle awards as I didn't want to wait til 2018 to get invited to another bash. It was a good do and the right kind of people seemed to win most things (ridiculous as it is to try and judge one comedian against another and determine which is "best"). I think my only chance now is to die and wait for those posthumous awards to come flooding in. If I get any this way, will you please throw them into the sea shouting, "Well it's too fucking late now, you ridiculous twats. Maybe if you'd recognised him while he was alive he would still be here today. You killed him. You awards committees and members of the public who vote for these things. Not him being mediocre and not deserving it. You! He was a candle in the wind!"
Alas this exclamation is much too long and people will have lost interest, but at least my wishes will have been fulfilled.

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