Oh well thanks a lot. 75 months of free blogs, 12 months of free podcasts. I ask you to do one thing for me. JUST ONE. And what do you do? Just sit on your fannies and forget about me. If you think I'm blogging or podcasting anymore then you have another think coming. And stop sitting on those fannies, you're going to damage them. It's OK if you're American, but the rest of you should feel ashamed of yourselves. Especially the men - what you are doing is SICK!
So I didn't win the Chortle award for best show. Even though I didn't deserve to win it given the high quality of the acts I was up against (David O Doherty, Rhod Gilbert and winner Tim Minchin), I had hoped that my long-standing and impressive internet presence might skew the results unfairly in what was a public vote for the title. But, no, you let me down. When I needed a neighbour were you there, were you there?
Tragically, I think you probably were. There just aren't enough of you to overcome the popularity of the proper comedians.
I really hadn't wanted to news to hit me too hard - I had anticipated that Tim would win it and I was so pleased to get nominated that I didn't want that little boost to turn into a negative like it had with
the largely meaningless Arena award that I failed to win. But pathetically the news that I had lost (I found out a bit early because I had had to leave the ceremony to go and do my show and had wanted to know if it was worth hanging around) still got to me. It was self indulgent and childish of me and very annoying to turn a positive into a negative, but after nearly 20 years it would mean a lot to get some recognition for something I had done (beyond my Daily Telegraph nod in 2005) and just to finally get to have an actual physical award in my hands.
Vanity, vanity, all is vanity.
Yet it turns out that I am the comedian's choice (not as comedian's comedian, which would get me some perspex) but as the man they most want to pick up the awards that they are too busy to pick up. Last year,
Stewart Lee asked me to collect for him (mainly I am sure to make me be forced to confront how much better than me he is). This year, Michael Legge texted me to ask if I'd be prepared to go up and receive his well deserved award
for his excellent blog. Again he couched the request as if it was in deference to my own blogging abilities, but he was really saying - yeah I know you've been going for 75 months and have never won anything and I've just started and immediately hit the ground running and I want the world to see that. Luckily I was unable to fall into his evil trap as I was only going to be at the first ten minutes of the ceremony.
While I was there Tim Minchin's people approached me and told me that Tim was in Australia and would I be prepared to pick up any awards he might win on his behalf. Given I was actually up against him in one of the categories that was probably a leap too far. To actually have to accept an award I had lost on behalf of the winner.... I suppose it could have been worse. They could have insisted that I cancel the performance of my show so that I was able to do it, and that I should accept the award with my pants pulled down and my genitals tucked between my legs so I looked like a lady.
Shame I had to leave, because it would be quite an achievement in itself to get to the end of my life having only picked up awards for other people. I could win the posthumous award for "Best Person at Receiving Awards That Aren't His". And I would have got three awards tonight, meaning that I had picked up more than anyone else.
But by now my childish petulance had faded and I had got my "failure" into perspective. I enjoyed the few minutes I got amongst my comedy peers and realised that it is much more important to still be working after two full decades. Many of the acts picking up the baubles twenty years ago have disappeared from view, but I am still here.
Admittedly, some of the acts picking up baubles twenty years ago now have their own TV shows and are wowing people in Hollywood. But I had a sell out show on Saturday.... I know it's not as good. But it's good enough.
And then I headed down to Leicester Square and decided to show the 200 people there that I actually had the best show of the year and gave a fluid and relaxed performance. I don't need a piece of perspex to tell me that I am a good comedian.
But really, after all this fucking time, it would be nice, wouldn't it?
