The original band of four loyal contestants can't quite believe they've aged ten years since innocently agreeing to take part in an online quiz that does absolutely nothing to contribute to world peace, famine reduction, saving whales or the pursuit of knowledge.

Over the years the number of contestants has increased in leaps and bounds from the first four trailblazers to a mind-boggling eight, all of whom regret the decision to take part every day of their bloody lives.

So relive those heady days of yesteryear in 2005 and 2006 when Jonathan Ross would do anything for a few bob and the GTI awards presentation evenings were the envy of the world.


Wednesday, 10 June 2015

GTI Awards 2006 - Progress Report 10

Work is almost complete with regard to the RSJ. 

Mr. Biggins says although it looks like it sags a bit in the middle it’s just an optical illusion and besides with a bit of luck nobody will want to do the Hokey-Cokey anyway. 

I’ve suggested that on the night we should have table service provided by the bar staff and Mr. Biggins will ensure he has a full complement of people on duty. 

In addition to Mrs. Flagg, Mrs. Wickham and Mr. Wallace he will ask old Mr. Roundtree if he can make it as well. 

Mr. Roundtree says it might be difficult as his sister is very unpredictable when she wants to be. When I asked him what his sister had to do with it Mr. Roundtree said he didn’t really know. 

Mr. Ross’s PR team arrived unannounced at 10 am this morning and couldn’t get the intercom to work. All they could hear was Mr. Biggins shouting Press the button, Press the button, You won’t hear me if you don’t press the bloody button. 

When the intercom finally fired into life after Mr. Biggins had once again rushed outside to give it a bash and rushed back inside to answer it, all they could hear this time was Mr. Biggins shouting Don’t stand there all day I’m waiting for those bastards from Channel 4 to arrive any minute so bugger off. 

Luckily Mrs. Flagg arrived for work at that very moment and managed to defuse the situation by whispering in a croaking breathless voice, Bloody three mile detour; it’ll be the death of me.

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