GTI Awards 2005

GTI AWARD 2005
 

Well here we are once again at the annual GTI award ceremony. During the previous five hours we’ve seen a multitude of awards presented, not least being:
 

Best “Comedy Starring An Obscenely Obese Woman With No Discernable Comic Skills” awarded yet again to “The Vicar of Dibley”.
 

Best “Comedy Starring Ade Edmondson’s Obscenely Rich Wife With No Discernable Comic Skills Apart From Dressing Up In Fat Suits and Funny Clothes” won by “Absolutely Fabulous”.
 

Best “ITV Drama Containing More Bad Acting Than You Can Shake A Stick At” has yet again, been won by “The Bill”.
 

And the results of a viewer’s poll of mentally defective middle-class bozos for the “Most Gorgeous, Romantic and All-Round Wonderfullest Pop Record Ever Made” has been won by Chris De Burgh for Lady In Red.
 

But all this is just a taster for tonight’s main event. As everyone slowly returns from the toilets wiping the white stuff off their suits and dresses we settle down for the main award of the evening – The 2005 GTI Award. The contestants are sitting at their tables with fixed grins on their faces as Jonathan Ross reads out the nominations. Joe and Barry, the two main contenders for the title are looking nervous and just a little apprehensive as yet another carefully rehearsed Jonathan Ross ad-lib falls flat.
 

Yet there’s a palpable buzz of excitement in the air and a feeling that this year’s award will, once again, provide yet another dramatic upset in the history of the GTIs just as in 2003 when against all the odds and the expectations of many, Crawfie unexpectedly won, to be ordained into the Grand Order of GITs and crowned King GIT. The decision was immersed in controversy at the time as it became apparent soon after that the King GIT had enlisted the help of the Queen GIT in providing answers to some of the trickier questions.
 

But amid cries of, “Shame. Shame” and “It’s unfair, it’s so unfair” the GTI organiser upheld the award and told the aggrieved contestants to “stop whinging and bugger off”. As a result, the 2003 King GIT reigned supreme amid a year of constant GTI bickering, insults, moaning and petulant objections but redeemed the faith that the GTI organiser had in him by doing good things and that around the world and by providing ten GTI donated wheel-chairs to the underprivileged pensioners of Yalding.
 

Then came 2004 and that year the award ceremony was awash with rumours that King GIT Crawfie had badly mis-managed his time in the Grand Order. He’d seemingly ignored, or forgotten, the GTI mandate so carefully crafted and hewn in stone to “Always get your bloody answers in on time or you score nuffink boy” and was reduced to ending his year long reign living on answer handouts from the Queen GIT. His decline was pitiful to see. So much so that it was almost a foregone conclusion that the 2004 GTI Award rostrum would not be supporting King Crawfie but another young, well youngish, well old pretender to the throne, name of Marty.
 

Marty’s ordainment ceremony and subsequent crowning of King GIT was marred only by the ex-King GIT’s heckling, barracking and general bad behaviour during Marty’s acceptance speech. But once Crawfie’s drugs had been confiscated and he’d been tied to the legs of the table, Crawfie was magnanimous in defeat.
 

Marty began his reign as King GIT in the manner in which he would continue to reign. For the rest of the year he laid low, only surfacing occasionally to throw out the old unfunny pun or send out indecipherable or confusing notes to his subjects whenever and wherever the muse took him. The GTI year looked set for one of calm and prosperity until scandal and unrest raised its head once more and the shit really hit the fan.
 

It had started six months into his reign during one of the many public appearances of King GIT. There had been a long running feeling of resentment between the current King GIT and the previous King over the fact that the GTI statuette was still languishing in the downstairs toilet of King Crawfie’s palatial residence. Without the physical ownership and presence of the GTI statuette King Marty had been finding it more and more difficult to convince his admirers that he was indeed King GIT 2004 resulting in a total loss of integrity with the public. He took matters into his own hands and with the help of two or three disgruntled GTI contestants who he’d recommended but had turned out to be bloody useless, he hatched a plot to break into Crawfie’s toilet and steal the GTI statuette for himself.
 

The plot, as we all know, failed when his pun-filled incomprehensible e-mails were intercepted and finally deciphered by the authorities revealing his dastardly intentions. King GIT was given an ultimatum. Either stop the puns or face the consequences.
 

So now to the 2005 GTI award and King GIT for this year is being fought out between Barry and Joe. With Barry on 217 points and Joe on 210 points it all hinges on the answer to the “Connection” question and whether either of them can add 20 points to their score.
 

The real answer to the “Connection” question was that all the tracks used exactly the same library sound effect for the car/accident crash sound and nobody came up with anything suggesting that ……..except……………

(Shoulders back, shoulders back)
 

Joe.
 

Who in a throwaway line at the end of his answers said,
 

“All about road smashes and all have the same skid sound”
 

So that’s it, the 20 points go to Joe bringing him to 230 and catapulting him into the rarefied world of King GIT 2005.
 

Congratulations go to Joe. Commiserations go to Barry.
 

And Joe, always remember, as King GIT 2005………… don’t disappoint the kids….they look up to you.
 

And to Barry and Joe –
 

Speech! Speech!
 

Acceptance Speeches
 

Barry
 
Well I guess it falls to me as runner-up to make the first speech.

First of all, I'd like to thank Pete as quizmaster for organising the competition which has provided a source of amusement for us all. I, for one, have very much enjoyed taking part. Secondly I'd like to thank my Mum and Dad without whose encouragement I would never have reached the dizzy heights of the runners-up position. I'd also like to thank my wife for her encouragement - her shouts from downstairs of 'Are you off the bleedin' Internet yet? I'm waiting to phone my Mum.' have inspired me. I must also mention my Maths teacher Mr. Eric Jones. He's got bugger all to do with the GTI but I gather one always mentions a teacher at these occasions and he was my favourite.

Next I must congratulate Joe on winning. I've held my breath this week whilst Pete drank his tea and excitedly discharged all over his keyboard. I've prayed that maybe it was my turn to be King GIT this year only to fall at the last hurdle. Which brings me to the bonus of 20 points which no doubt you're expecting me to moan about. But you're wrong. I don't object to this sort of bonus at all. Pete made it clear from the beginning that 20 bonus points were riding on this question. What I've complained about in the past is where bonuses are added at the marking stage. That wasn't the case here, so I have no complaints.

Well done Joe!

With that I'll remove myself from the stage to return to my table and my family who still love me. I can remember my youngest son turning to me in the limousine on the way here tonight. He looked at me tenderly and said 'I really hope you win this year Dad otherwise you're going to be a f**king misery for the next few weeks.'

Over to you Joe.
 
Joe
 
(Joe makes his way through the tables and is delayed on his journey to the stage by the other GTI stars jumping to their feet and congratulating him, shaking his hand as he approaches and making Psycho-like stabbing motions towards his back as he passes.
 
He finally climbs onto the stage, stands behind the microphone and waits for the applause to start)
 
Joe speaks -
 
Well thank you very much Barry, (waits for applause to start) you really gave me a run for my money on that last marathon section.
 
There is no one more surprised than me to be standing here with a firm grip on that which has finally been gained after so much exertion and effort.
 
It's best to keep a hold on your wallet in this sort of company.
 
I would like to echo Barry's sentiments regarding Pete's unstinting work in compiling our quizzes once again this year. I'd personally like to thank him even more for picking some questions where I knew the answers, although often the first hearing of a quiz would lead to mild panic. Many first run throughs reminded me of those dreaded exam papers where I would get only as far as name and form number.
 
Unlike Barry who was obviously a numbers genius, with me these occasions usually happened during maths, with no thanks to my maths teacher, Mr (Bastard) Hornsey.
 
(As he says the name Joe turns to spit to stage left, miscalculates and a large globule begins to race down the front of his dinner jacket. Joe catches it quickly with his golden envelope, raises it aloft triumphantly and waits for the applause to start. The large globule falls from the envelope.
Missing Joe's shoulder by inches, it falls on his head. There is applause, laughter and much pointing. Joe wipes his hair with his hand and wipes the hair dye from his hand onto his jacket)
 
If I didn't know better I would have said that Pete was also taught by the bastard Hornsey (bastard) and therefore probably got the scoring wrong, but he wasn't and he didn't. Pete was in fact in the class above me, and has probably remained so ever since.
 
But then I was told that I was in a class of my own. I think that was down to the lack of deodorant in those days. It was lonely.
 
But those days are over. I am now King GIT - hurrah! (punches the air and waits for applause to start) but I do know that this is a passing moment, so excuse me while I nip off to the rest room. No, no, it's alright, I can wait.
The competition this year was fierce and I'm sure that there was an awful lot of luck involved and ... (damn, I was wrong, I couldn't wait).
 
(Joe holds the golden envelope in front of his lap and walks off crablike, stage left.)
 
Thank you everyone and good night.
 
(Waits for applause to start.)
 
(Jonathon Ross makes a gesture with his right hand similar to that old coffee advertisement where the chap rattled the beans.)
 
Commentary

With the podium still moist from Joe's exit, Jonanthan Ross bounces up to the tele-prompter and touching the microphone recoils in horror as a massive jolt of electricity immediately turns him into a dead ringer for Ken Dodd during his fourth hour on stage. Jonathan says:

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit! Thank you King GIT!

Now we come to the final award of the evening. For the GTI star with the most staying power despite all the odds - the "Lifetime GIT Achievement" award.

This is always allocated to someone who's popular, respected by his peers, successful in everything he does, a pillar of the community and a consumate professional at all levels but this year in a break from tradition the award goes to Pants.

Let's see some of his highlights:

Pants, who always hovered around the bottom of the GTI stellar environment.

Pants, who always managed mediocre results except when the Thompson Twin was on a winning streak.

Pants, who always managed to utterly miss the point of the Connection round.

Pants, who hired a car at the airport, refused insurance and immediately drove into a pillar in the car park causing hundreds of pounds worth of damage.

Pants, who lost all his money when he invested in a string of Gay dating agencies only to see the bottom fall out of the market.

Pants, we love you.

Speech. Speech.

(Waits for applause to start)
 

Pants

[Pants, feigning a complete state of shock, but knowing all along he was going to receive the Lifetime GIT Award after being told he'd better turn up to the ceremony with his best tux, last worn at that room with all the cars in it near Croydon where MDSL had it's Christmas dos, ascends the stage]

Pete, members of the GIT academy, friends, Kidderminsterians, countryman

I would first like to thank Pete for putting together such a fantastic quiz, but don't really see much point in brown nosing now, so won't bother.
 
Congratulations to Joe (shoulders back, shoulders back) and commiserations to those who came so close - Baz, Martin and Crawfy.
 
Well, I know what your all saying, "Pants by name, pants by nature". And I thank you for that sentiment. In fact, it's the nicest thing I have imagined anyone saying about me behind my back, all day. Not that I'm paranoid, you understand.

It's been a hell of of year, GIT wise. You may recall that at the beginning of the season, I was leading the pack. For a couple of months as I recall. Now, I don't really know how that happended. And I KNOW you don't either. But as we all know, there must be order in the universe as I then began a rapid descent to my proper place - rock bottom.

Incidentally, my pranged rental car cost me 298 quid. I then returned to Philly. At the airports I was stopped three times for random searches, one of which by a customs official who discovered an un-declared Terry's chocolate orange in my luggage. Luckily I managed to bribe him with a Penguin and the nutty one in the purple wrapper from my (also undeclared) box of Roses. He didn't discover the other four chocolate oranges up my bottom. ("Rectum?" "Well it certainly didn't do 'em any good.") Back in Philly for two weeks, my car got nicked. So it looks like being another bumper year.

However, enough of all that. The GIT lifetime non-achievement award really compensates for these minor setbacks. It'll have pride of place on my mantlepiece, along with my MDSL Windows 3.1 training certificate and the photo of me shaking hands with Jim Davidson.

I thank you, and love you all.

[Pants moves to leave the stage, breaks wind off mic, but is unfortunately recorded in the act of doing so by Elizabeth Hurley's chest mic, who fortunately gets the blame.]
 
Marty

Heartfelt congratulations to Joe and Barry who ran out deserved winners although, and I think Ian will back me up here, winning the GITs these days with all the non-music questions thrown in is not quite the stern test as when we won it.  Perhaps it's speaks volumes that the current prize has been reduced to a photo of a photo of the statuette.....which still takes pride of place in Crawfie's John. Bitter ? Not me. Well done to swanky Pants too for showing how, with minimum effort, you can still win a prize. When I think of all the hours I spent at work, surfing the net, it makes me sick.
 
    Pete, top dog for arranging this...much appreciated. It isn't really over.... is it ? I really enjoyed the 4-3-2 games with Tom Rodgers (honestly) but you can't beat the cut and thrust of the GITs. Say it ain't so Petey, say it aint so. 
 

Commentary

(It's now 2.30 am. The guest tables are awash with empty champagne bottles, paper hats, streamers and call girls. Most of the guests are dozing fitfully and feeling nauseous with their heads between their legs or someone else's. The few guests who are still partying are on the stage playing pass the orange and Jonathan Ross is still blearily peering at the autocue.)

Ladies and Gents. There's just time for the final award of the evening. The award for the best GIT acceptance speech of 2005. It's been a marvellous series of speeches tonight and it's proved to be a very difficult decision. But the GIT organiser has, without a shadow of a doubt, decided that this years award for best acceptance speech goes to King GIT himself, Joe!

And by not taking anything away from the other nominees, I think they'd agree that Joe's speech was bloody funny and set the standard for all the other nonsense that followed after it. So here to present the award is Mr. Bastard Bastard Hornsey. (The bastard).

Speech Joe, speech, spee......

(Jonathan Ross is hit on the back of the head by an orange and falls off the stage.)  
 

Joe

There is an explosion, a large puff of smoke and a vile smell of sulphur and Mr Bastard-Hornsey suddenly appears on stage. He has a stick of chalk and a large blackboard rubber in one hand and a book of logarithms in the other. Fire erupts from his nostrils.
 
He roars – “Joseph Irwin, I hereby sentence you to a lifetime of never understanding the meaning or purpose of algebra, to completely missing the whole point of logarithms, sines and cosines and to a lifelong feeling of numerate inadequacy whenever you are on the same planet as Barry.”
 
Joe cringes and averts his gaze. The bastard Hornsey throws the board rubber at him, scoring a heavy direct hit on the left side of his face, raising a cloud of chalk dust which settles on the floor. One of the losing GTI participants scurries out on all fours from under a table. He has a drinking straw halfway up his nose and frantically vacuums up the chalk dust from the floor with it before immediately scurrying back under the table.
 
Hornsey continues –“But, Irwin, it seems that you have at long last won something. Well, it was obviously a fix. This whole GTI thing was watered down to make sure that an idiot like you could win it.”
 
He laughs a maniacal Vincent Price-type laugh and, in another cloud of smoke, disappears up his own rectangle. The stick of chalk he was holding clatters to the floor. The losing contestant again scurries out momentarily from under the table and stuffs the whole chalk stick up his nose, pleased that he is now back on solids.
Joe is visibly shaken but manages to speak.
 
“I know that there is hardly anyone conscious here in the hall at this time of night but I would like to thank my fellow contestants for this wonderful trophy, but I can’t because I don’t have it.
 
A grunt is heard from the floor and Jonathon Ross stirs.
 
“Here,” he says, “Take it and piss off.”
 
“Thanks Jonathon. I would really like to thank everyone for this magnificent…errr….orange.”
 
Crestfallen, Joe walks out of the hall, a sorry sight. Two raggedy mean-looking old hobos are talking as he approaches. With their arms around each other they are clearly the worse for drink.
 
One says to the other…
 “Anyway Ian, what’s th’good o’ winning an easy quiz like what that was, the ‘ole fing was cooked up. ‘Ere, don’t move away, hold me up for gawd’s sake.”
 
“Quite right Martin matey, ol’ friend, ‘ang on in there and don’t frow up again.  I wouldna  made such a flamin’ fool of meself by winning. Anyway, I love you; you’re my best mate you are.”
 
“Na shuddup a minute Ian, ‘ere comes Joe now. Shtoom, shtoom.”
 
They both laugh and point.
 
“Don’t ‘e walk funny.”
 
“That’s cos the silly arse ‘as always got ‘is shoulders back.”
 
Joe maintains his dignity as he walks past. Shoulders back and head high in the air, he falls down the stairs into the foyer, rolls out into the street and stops face down in the gutter. He lifts his head slightly,
 
“The bastard Hornsey was right all along, the bastard.”
 
There is a smell of sulphur and maniacal laughter is heard, fading into the background of traffic noises.
The two old hobos walk out into the street and stand over Joe. They each try to applaud, but their hands don’t meet, so, after nicking his orange, they sway off into the night.
 
Crawfie
 
An orange! You're getting an orange? All I got was a tuppenny hapenny candlestick holder. 

Now I know for sure that Pete is favouring you.

Told you Marty (we'll talk about this privately tomorrow)