The funniest man in Britain. And Harry Hill. (How dare I even make that joke?)

I was at the British Comedy Awards on Saturday night. Compared to other years, it was pretty mild (I was there when Julian Clary joked that he’d been fisting the chancellor Norman Lamont, a joke which led to his career being awarded to Paul O’Grady). The only real surprise was that Ryan Giggs didn’t win anything. Still, there was the usual amont of quality bitterness. It can only be a matter of time before they feed some poor victim to the baying comic masses by including a Lifetime Lack of Achievement Award (hope I don’t get a nom for that one). Here are some thoughts, a couple of jokes and some padding…

BEST LIFT AWARD – one of the highlights of the Awards is the lift you get from reception to the studio when you first arrive. The idea is to get in a lift which, if it burst into flames, would inflict a loss on British comedy so severe they’d be forced to show repeats of “Allo Allo” for a generation. This year’s haul was Griff Rhys Jones, Keith Allen and Frankie Boyle. Not too bad. I suspect if we’d been stuck there for days Frankie and Keith would have eaten me by Day 3.

MOST SHOCKING JOKE: This was the first year (I think) that the Comedy Awards weren’t going out totally live but were subject to a 15 minute delay known as Andrew Sachs Time. Which I think encouraged my liftmucker Frankie Boyle to really go for it, comparing the unusual award-announcing combination of Pamela Anderson and Vivienne Westwood to a before and after advert. That bit went out. The bit he added (what it was before and after) didn’t. Some people on my table thought he meant to say “HRT” but I think he knew exactly which 3 letters he wanted to say.

PERSONAL HIGHLIGHT: Lee Majors. The Six Million Dollar Man. I still sing the theme tune to myself when I’m running, convinced it will make me go faster. I loved Harry Hill’s impression and Lee Majors’ face as he did it. He just had to suffer something he’d suffered thousands of times, like the guy I once worked with called Anil Rash. To us, though, it was hilarious and a one-off. How we laughed!

MISSED TV TRICK OF THE NIGHT: What?! They didn’t show us the faces of the gutted kids when Charlie Brooker won (I’ve already banged on about this here). Ross and Brand have a lot to answer for.

THE GOODY BAG: No $20,000 earrings or jewel-encrusted condoms (actually not that practical idea come to think about it), but there was a Pocket Guide to Dubai (“Sale. Everything Must Go!”?), a Bowel Cancer foam bum (thank God they didn’t go with a brown ribbon) and a Tunnocks Caramel bar. Ambassador, wiz zees Maryland Mini Cookies you are spoileeeng us.

GENEROSITY SHOCK: Mayan mythology tells that once every 2 or 3000 years a roomful of bitter comedians will actually feel unsullied warmth and generosity for one of their number. It happened with Graham Linehan’s award. For a moment, we all felt pure pleasure for a lovely and talented bloke. In the aftermath, confusion and sickness reigned – it was like just after everyone blacked out in FlashForward: what happened? What were those strange emotions? Quickly, someone made a joke about James Corden and normal bitterness was soon restored.

And one final thought…

MICHAEL McINTYRE: Let’s be clear. He’s a nice bloke who makes a lot of people laugh. He is not Joseph Fritzl. Although he did share a lift with him on the way to the studio.

Thanks to @2muchcoffeekate for the Ferrero Rocher gag.

The Bitterish Comedy Awards is a post from: David Schneider's website

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Jordward. At one point everyone was trying to get in with the twins.

You have to hand it to Simon Cowell. In a bid to outwit the campaign against an X-Factor Christmas No.1, he’s announced that this year’s winner’s song will be a version of “Killing in the Name” by Rage Against the Machine. Thus he wins.

Of course that’s not true. Though fans of Rage Against the Machine will tell you that the new line-up of Leona Lewis, Jedward and that old man who did some breakdancing on “Britain’s Got Talent” has been a disappointment. I totally understand the rage against the X-Factor machine. It’s agony to know that a constituency of knee-jerking automaton fans will buy a record, however crap, and get it to number 1 at Christmas. Still, it worked for Cliff Richard.

And that’s slightly my point. This is nothing new. It’s just that now, like that monkey that Jeff Goldblum turned inside out in “The Fly”, we can see the innards, the mechanics of the music biz, or at least the ones we’re allowed to see:  the process of selecting a plastic star, the A&R man (Simon Cowell), the ruthlessness.

But it’s one of the great things about X-Factor that the monkey guts are out there. It’s like democracy in miniature, complete with all the manipulations and flaws and spin and sham. At the next general election, Johnathan and David Dimbleby will no doubt be known as Javid, and if no party gets an overall majority it will go to Deadlock, with the Queen probably bottling it and putting it to the public vote. The Jedward phenomenon is like an experiment in what would happen if the Science Fiction Loony Party got enough votes to really threaten the system.

Personally, I didn’t like the twins. They shouldn’t have been there. We have to remember that women threw themselves under horses for the right to vote on the X-Factor. But as a true free-speech liberal, I may not approve of how they sing but I will fight tooth and nail for their right to sing like that. Except with the Wham one. That was awful.

You could have a field day analysing what we can learn about democracy and voter intentions from protest votes in reality shows. We should ask a political correspondent – John Sergeant, perhaps. Ultimately, though, the people saw Jedward off. That’s the great thing about reality TV. It reassures me that, in the end, the great British public are honest, unprejudiced rewarders of talent, decency and good teeth. Democracy works.

Even in the 50s, Xfactor brought families together

I’m an X-factor fan (there, I’ve said it!). I know it’s massively flawed, especially the new format where the first half of the results show has nothing to do with the competition (though I did enjoy that woman last week who was one of the best Michael Jackson impersonators I’ve ever seen. Janet Something). But at a time where viewing habits are so split, it’s good to have something that unites us whether we hate it or love it or just want to slag off the strange black meringues Dannii calls her hairdo for that week.

Don’t get me wrong, I want Rage Against the Machine to get to number 1. It would make a vital statement about democracy, the power of subversion, and the resistance to a cultural hegemony imposed upon us by the Big Business. Then again, that Joe Mcelderry has got such a cute smile.

Thanks to @stanandollie for the pics.

X(mas)-Factor is a post from: David Schneider's website

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