Got home somewhat worse for wear in the early hours of the morning and caught the first few awards at the Oscars. Unsurprised and delighted to see Wallace and Gromit win, as were Nick Park and his mate accepting the awards as they had made little bow ties for thir Oscar statues. In anyone else this might have been arrogant, but Nick Park is such a lovely man and it was nothing but charming. He had to know he'd win too. He's ace.
Weird to see that Rachel Weisz picked up Best Supporting Actress. Not because she didn't deserve it - I haven't seen the film so have no idea. She's just one of the people that I would occasionally see hanging around in the Pleasance courtyard during the Fringes of the mid-90s (by which I mean the Edinburgh Fringes. She didn't hang around on the fringes of time - though possibly she has in one of her more fanciful movie). Even then she was much too cool to be my friend, but I saw her with my actual eyes and now there she was in Hollywood, getting the ultimate award, whilst I am in Shepherd's Bush, clutching desperately to my "Daily Telegraph Worst Comedy Experience 2005" piece of paper. They don't send you a statuette or even a piece of paper. I've had to write that on a piece of paper myself. And that's still my proudest achievement, whilst my contemporaries are scooping up Oscars. I don't care if I never win anything better than being the worst thing in my chosen career for a whole year. Like Tony Blairs I believe that God will be my judge. I am hoping that He enjoys puerile and blasphemous stuff which largely revolves around the fact that He doesn't exist. Or if he does that He's a mental idiot. As long as that's the kind of humour He's into then I should get something better than an Oscar or a job. Imagine what kind of awards statues God would make. I think they'd be really brilliant with all gold and stuff in them and diamonds and bigger than anything you can imagine - about a mile high. Unless Jesus makes the awards in his carpentry shop, because the true Messiah would probably make a humble award like in that Indiana Jones film and if I chose the glitzy one i would become a skellington (though technically I would already be a skellington by the time I had got to Heaven). in any case, it doesn't matter what the award looked like - the accolade of being voted the funniest man who ever lived by God would surely turn the Telegraph thing into an irrelevance. The Daily Telegraph would look pretty stupid that day. Unless God added the caveat that I had got the award despite my piss poor efforts in the year 2005. Whatever. I am ot expecting that award and to be honest, just to be nominated would be honour enough. As long as it doesn't go to Stewart Lee, but Stew wouldn't accept it anyway. He'd worry people would think he'd got it through nepotism.
I am not jealous of Rachel Weisz (though I envy her ability to avoid blinking for protracted periods of time). I am actually quite pleased that someone I have seen with my actual eyes is doing so well. It's just odd that a film star was once sitting out in the cold Pleasance Courtyard, almost like they were a normal person and not some kind of supernatural being.
Anyway one day I will win an Oscar. I am like the woman from Transvision Vamp in that respect. I am guessing we'll probably get them the same year.
