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Sunday 28th August 2005

I made it to the Perrier party a couple of hours after the announcement of the winners and losers had been made. A straggle of protestors were still milling around outside, protesting now to no-one in particular. I felt that it was better to try and destroy Nestle from within, by drinking so much free champagne that the company would be bankrupted. It was a dangerous and selfless mission, but I am nothing if not committed to stopping the murder of babies, especially if they are not even then baked into a pie for the enjoyment of witches.
I continue to resent the Perrier Award, partly for turning this wonderful celebration of the arts into a blatant competition, but mainly because they have never seen fit to even nominate me. Now I am ineligible because I was on TV six years ago, which means I am at least freed from the expectation and the inevitable disappointment that comes to all but the fortunate handful of comedians (most of whom are then even more crushed by getting close, but falling at the last hurdle). I wish the award did not exist, but am not so churlish as to turn down a free party and actually it was a lot of fun to get out and meet people, after an Edinburgh in which I have been happy to avoid too much socializing.
I met Jason Trachtenburg, whose show I had enjoyed last year, but whom I was unable to see this time round due to time clashes (though to be honest I might well not have got round to it anyway- I have seen a pathetically small number of shows this year and should be ashamed of myself). He was giving out anti-Nestle leaflets and had apparently been out with the protestors for a while, before then getting out his invite and joining in with the fun. You have to admire his chutzpah. He is a nice man. Luckily him and his unusual family are doing a run at the Soho theatre in the next month, so I will go and see them then and suggest that you do the same if you live close enough to make that practicable.
Spirits were high and all the many non-winners I chatted with seemed to have got their lack of acclaim into perspective and had decided to kick back and have fun. The older comedians (of whom I am now definitely a fully signed up member) were decrying the fact that this new younger generation of comics are way too professional, concentrating on their shows, more interested in their careers than in drinking and taking drugs. Though tonight at least the generations seemed united in their drunkenness.
I stayed to the end, around about 3.30am, but whilst others were keen to go on to another bar (perhaps giving the lie to the fact that this youngsters are clean living), I decided to go home, still mindful that I had a show to do the next day and tired from my three performances of the previous day. Good to see that a little professionalism is still evident in the older comedians.
I had to spend the whole afternoon in bed though.

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