So little over a week ago I attended my first ever Television
awards. I know exciting right?
It was The British Soap Awards 2012.
I instantly mass messaged my friends like an over excited
school boy. Leading one of my mates to opine that the dress code is either
"T*ts or Topman".
I opted for the latter.
The week dragged and the sessions of GTL in an attempt to
look FTD increased.
And then Saturday finally arrived.
I'd packed considerably
lightly not out of necessity but instead to defy my colleagues' expectations
that I'd roll up with several cases. It was tough work.
I'd narrowed it down to three. Yes, three bow ties.
The journey down was full rain and bizarrely paparazzi.
Getting papped if you're not famous is the most cringe worthy thing ever. Like
ever. You can almost see the paparazzo's disapproval as he realises that his
shot is worth shit with you in the frame.
And with blinding lights I was convinced my second appearance
on the Mail Online (The back off my head had already appeared once. What? It
counts.) Would be one of a picture akin to Rocky getting punched by Apollo
Creed.
We finally reached the hotel and there were rumours of
Bieber and Matt Le Blanc residing there. We were on the lookout. No such luck
but I did see Mark Wright.
After a mad dash to Oxford Circus, time was ticking and I returned
to the hotel only to find that none of my plug sockets were working. I lied to
the reception desk that it was imperative I charge my phone prior to the event
whilst water dripped from my hair and I stood with my mute hair dryer in hand. Utterly
convinced I was about to attend the awards looking like the sixth Jackson
brother.
But thank the Metrosexual Gods we were on track with time to
spare. And in case you were wondering I opted for a vintage velvet maroon bow
tie. I mean it is after all called theguyinthebowtie.
En route ITV studios London and I'm pretty sure we've
hijacked the car that belonged to some of the Hollyoaks cast. Who am I kidding,
we definitely did, and the man's sat nav thing said so.
The car pulled into the studios and before us Dr Khan of EastEnders
fame emerged. He got booed. I didn't know it was him and a ripple of fear
spread through our car that we were about to get booed due to our lack of fame.
Luckily that didn't happen. I did however get a whoop. I imagine this was
because someone mistook me for Tamwar from Enders.
Oh yes. Tamwar. A running joke amongst my friends that we
share the same penchant for glasses, awkwardness and bow ties. And what's that?
Yep that's right we are both of South Asian descent.
The awards progressed in a surreal blur. Ringmaster
Schofield presided over events. And thing I took away from it all was just how
posh Pat Butcher is in real life.
That accent cray.
Awards over. We are now in a Wonka themed after party. There were trees dripping with fake sweets
and Joe Swash was there.
I found myself suddenly confronted by the fact that Tamwar
Masood and I were in the same room. Anecdotally this is ok. But what if I got a
picture with him? Genius right? It'd be totes hilair.
I somehow transformed into Borat. Following Pamela Anderson
around. Instead I was following around a soap actor who was meant to be my doppelganger
but in reality looked nothing like me.
So at the Candy Floss station, I tapped him on the shoulder
giddy from the fumes of whipped sugar and said.
"Hello sorry to do this to you. But people we say look alike
and I was wondering if it would be funny if we could take a picture together?"
It was as if I expected him to say
"Yes that would be
hilarious! Email me the picture and add me on Facey B".
He didn't but he was a really nice and polite guy. And as a
result my anecdote went from saying I saw him to well, this blog.
The whole weekend was a blur and I often felt like Kevin McAlister
in Home Alone 2 in a posh Hotel with money to burn. So at 11am I ordered the
world smallest £7.50 cheesecake. It was ai'te.
Homeward bound and we're all somewhat dazed by a long day
and when the show airs I proceed to freeze-frame a little brown bespectacled
blur to show my family. I'm pretty sure it's me. It could of course be Tamwar
Masood...
Did I ever tell you about the time I met him?...
theguyinthebowtie
