REAL FAMOUS PEOPLE DESCEND UPON NORWICH

In Which: Our Hero Drinks Too Much On An Empty Stomach And Wobbly Legs, Makes A Prick Of Himself In Front Of An Assembly Of Filmmakers, Then Complains A Bit.

A strange thing happened to me the other night. I ended up presenting an award at the Norwich Film Festival award ceremony. Having spent the whole day running around furiously trying to sort everything out, literally sweating constantly from about nine in the morning to ten o’clock in the evening, I didn’t even care to think about checking up on all our special guest presenters, one of whom didn’t turn up. Kel pointed this out to me just before we were due to start, when I’d already poured the best part of a bottle of the crappest Prosecco I’ve ever tasted down my throat. I gave the presenter a call, only to find that she’d completely forgotten about the whole thing. So for some reason, the buck was left with me.

Most people that presented awards [including the world-reputed Loui Bately orf the telly, and highly regarded film method actress Georgia Groome - neither of whom I've ever heard of before in my life] duly read out their brief script, listed the nominations, and then after seeing clips announced the winner. The whole thing took about five minutes.

I started okay, reading the brief script, but then got bored and went a bit off-piste, for about fifteen minutes, talking about myself, how amazing it had all been, myself, poo, how great I am and how much work I’ve done, how crap everyone else is, how I hadn’t been bothered to watch any of the films, and then systematically went down the list of nominees taking the piss out of their names. Prick.

Bizarrely I went up at the end for round two. Proclaiming myself to have unanimously won the Norwich Film Festival Best Speech 2009 Award. Oh dear.

Apparently there is, in existence a recording of said speech, and there are definitely many photographs; I will post these if I can find them.

I have to say, it’s a fucking relief to have the whole thing over with for a while. Seriously, organising a black tie event for an unspecified amount of people most of whom don’t own a dinner suit, which can’t be advertised because despite how much you spend getting posters designed and printed, there is no work force to pin them up, and no supporting organisations to publish them, and has no budget behind it whatsoever due to all the funding falling through due to a hilarious mix up with an orphanage and vodka, is surprisingly stressful.

My legs still hurt from running so much, and it is now three days later. Which, if you are interested is exactly the kind of damning result that exercise gets for you. ‘What, you still hurt, god Ben you’re so unfit, maybe you should exercise more.’ Bollocks. This is exactly what happens when you exercise. Pain, suffering. I am happy without all that, thanks very much.

Oh, and, briefly, I killed something the other day. Not sure how I feel about that. Driving along wildly in the car, not really unterrified enough to be in control, a bird did not move, when my instructor said it would. Seemingly not such an infallible teacher! Should I take heed from his mistake and extrapolate it to ignoring his advice about changing gear before sharp corners? Yes I should. Chevrons or no, I cannot be arsed to change gear.

That is all.