That’s the Irish Thingy Awards over.

When I say ‘over’, I mean just that.  It is a possibility, nay a probability that they won’t be held again.  Damien who has organised the Awards for the last six years is retiring.  He has announced this before, but I have a feeling in my waters that he means it this time.

Needless to say, I was robbed of my gong by that upstart Manuel, and I suppose I should pass on my grudging congratulations.  If I am to be denied what is rightfully mine, the he would be my choice of usurper.

The Awards this year were a bit of a catastrophe, as Beaut.ie weren’t in the running.  I was disgusted to learn this as one of the long standing traditions of the Awards is to rip the piss out of them after.  I have no one to slag off now.  I could pick a site at random, but somehow it isn’t the same.  It’s like Easter without an egg or Christmas without a bottle of whiskey.

I deliberately didn’t nominate myself this year.  I thought I would sit this one out and watch from the side-lines, but that wasn’t to be.  Somehow my name got into the hat but I knew I wouldn’t win.  You see, the votes are rigged.  They have to be, as if they weren’t I would win in every category every year.  That would be disheartening for all the others so they deliberately disbar me.  I don’t mind.  Not in the least.

Congratulations again, Manuel.

And I hope you have eyes in the back of your head.

You’ll need ‘em.

Ya little sleeveen, ya.