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.