Comedy Awards Rant

I normally sit own to watch the British Comedy Awards with a sense of glee, knowing that it will be the only gong show of the year to revel in the same orgy of spite, bitterness and hatred that I lead my life. So this year’s was a bitter disappointment. True, there were some totally deserved awards - Little Britain, Nighty Night and Catherine Tate all picked up some glassware, hopefully meaning the latter two will eventually receive the critical and public acclaim they deserve - but some of the winners defied expectation - smug ITV dramadies Doc Martin and Life Begins for instance. Then again, the voting panel probably consists of Richard Curtis cronies who like this sort of dross. But the most embarrassing sections of the show were the parts which crow-barred in awards for shows and people who just don’t deserve it. Best writing team - Ricky Gervais and Steven Marchant? They’re so good they barely managed to fill two hours of air-time last year, and only then by producing a toe-curlingly derivative Christmas spesh of the once mighty Office. And then there was the trumped-up award for Matt Groening, simply because he happened to be in the country. Presented with the award, inexplicably, by Stephen Hawking, Groening seemed as embarrassed as the viewing public at the standing ovation he received. He knows as much as anyone that the Simpsons ran out of ideas and jokes a good series back. In fact, Groening’s last few gags were all used up in the final series of Futurama, which was killed off in good health and will live on in our memories of never having a bad episode. Or indeed series, like the Simpsons recently has. It’s just odd that for a year filled with so much good comedy - Little Britain, Nighty Night, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Arrested Development, Catterick, I am Not an Animal, even Corrie, etc, etc - that so little of it was credited at the shindig and the show itself was a horribly bland affair. Note to Johnny Vegas - please present next year. Or, if wet, get Barrymore back…