Monday, 30 January 2006

Chorus Awards

Each year, for I think the past 9 years, the London Gay Men's Chorus hosts a party for its members, usually around Christmas time. Because we had been rather busy for Christmas, this year's party on took place last night at the Black Cap in Camden Town. The evening, which finished with the doors being to the general public at 10, usually consists of a cabaret/entertainment part followed by the now infamous award ceremony.

There are a few serious awards but mostly this is an occasion for fun, sillyness and a healthy dose of back-stabbing. In addition to the list of official awards (Performer of the Year, Slapper of the year (aka choir slut), best web presence (read Gaydar profile) and so on), people can make up there own. Nominations are anonymous to ensure maximum bitchiness.

Gone are the heady days of my first ceremonies (a few years ago now) when I won the "Rear of the Year" and the "Most Fanciable Member" awards; things have started to sag (so to speak). Last night I only got nominations and not quite flattering ones at that:

Winner of (made up award):
* The George Galloway award for most uninspiring hustings speech (that speech).

Runner up of ("official" awards):
* The ‘Typing so hard my fingers bleed’ award for biggest abuser of the Chorus email lists (That award was created for me last year, I believe and was much more deserved at the time than it is now).
* Most Tactless Comment award for being overheard at Brighton Dome, with disgust in his voice, ‘Surely we’re not sharing a dressing room with the Baritones?’.

on a side note; another of the people involved nominated "my new friend" in the Most Outrageous Behaviour of the year category for this story (scroll down a bit).

Perhaps because I was tired, or perhaps because Slighlty had come with me this year and therefore put in sharp relief my lack of connection with other members of the Chorus, I felt quite invisible (like my being there or not didn't make much of a difference for anyone) and I didn't get into the swing of things as I did the previous years. Rather than staying on to dirty dance with our choreographer, something which seems to have become a tradition for us everytime the Chorus is having a party, I left fairly early and in a rather sombre mood to go and have a hot drink with Slightly in that Cafe on Charing Cross Road. We then walked back to my place for a long serious chat. Miserable gits that we are!

And I was right about those checkered shirts... I wasn't to know however of the clashes of parterns which can occur in a gay bar (haven't been in one for too long it seems). I went cross-eyed and slightly queasy when I found myself in the vicinity of a paisley shirt, a flower shirt and a third shirt with geometrical motifs on. Who said gay men have a fashion sense?



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