Great Scot

A couple of weeks ago my agent called to tell me that I'd been nominated for an award. Instant ego-boner! 'What's the award?' I ask. Johnnie Walker Blue Label Great Scot Entertainer of the Year 2011. Bit long winded but, double boner! I then do a bit of research and it turns out this award is for Scottish people. Here's the thing. I'm not Scottish. I genuinely think someone was looking through Spotlight and went 'Fergus Craig - that sounds Scottish. He'll do'. I was left in a bit of a moral dilemma. Do I go to the ceremony and eat the free food and drink the free booze? Or do I have a bit of integrity, call them up and explain the mix up so that my place can go to someone more deserving?

So last night I went to the ceremony. As I walked past the bagpipes and into the lift the absurdity of my presence hit me. Inside the lift was me, my mate and six Scottish people in kilts including sometime Newsnight presenter and pimp (one of those is true), Gavin Esler. Upon leaving the lift I saw Richard Wilson, Sam Torrence, Willie Carson, Douglas Alexander, Lorraine Kelly, Kirsty Wark and plenty of other Scottish luminaries. If a bomb had hit that venue last night then all Scotland would be left with is Sir Alex Ferguson and the band, Travis. I felt like Dane Bowers at the MOBO's. A fraud. A waiter handed me some haggis and I thanked him, disguising my accent.

How the fuck did this happen? My name is also kind of Irish sounding. Will I be at an Irish award ceremony next week living it up with Jedward? After some champagne and Scottishy hors d'oeuvres we sit down to dinner. I kid you not - we are sat next to former Scotland manager George Burley and opposite blind Mikey from Big Brother 9. I try to break the ice with Burley by telling him about me being English. Funny eh? He doesn't think so. He clearly thought one of the Krankies should have been in my seat. Once the booze started flowing things lightened up but at first the conversation was pretty stilted. Mikey and Burley were both on their own and chatted about how they didn't like salmon.

What if I win? - I thought. Clearly, I wasn't going to but what if I did? I had two options. Either I tell the audience I'm not Scottish and hope they find it funny rather than infuriating or I mumble 'thank you very much' in my best Scottish accent. Luckily I didn't win. Guess who did - Lorraine Kelly. Bitch. First she beats me to the GMTV job and now this!

Funny old night. I'm actually a little hung over and don't feel I'm depicting the evening as well as I might had I not had those extra few drinks with Burley at the end of the night. Yeah, we got on in the end - me and Burley. We even had a bit of a dance together. Nothing sexual. At least not from my point of view, anyway.

USA! USA! USA!

USA! USA! USA! USA! Man, I wish my country's name could be broken down into an acronym of three letters. If it could then there is no doubt in my mind that I would roam the streets chanting it day and night. Team GB maybe? Yeah! We should chant it at all our proudest moments. Kate and Will are engaged... Team GB! Team GB! Kate and Will are married... Team GB! Team GB! Confirmation comes from the palace that the marriage has been consummated with the act of full blown penetrative sex... Team GB! Team GB!

Of course, now that Osama Bin Laden has been killed the world has forgotten about the Royal wedding. Nice one America - thanks for pissing on our chips. 72 hours ago, with the kisses on the balcony (Kisses! Plural! You spoil us your majesties!) our nation reached it's peak. We stood at the summit of our achievements and waited for the inevitable comedown. And now here it is. America reminds us who's boss. By the way, Fox News are calling him Usama Bin Laden now. Why the change? I notice they also call Gadaffi... Qadafi. I like this suggestion that the first letters of names can be anything you want. I may now be called Bergus. Mmmm... burgers.

Over the last few days I have fluctuated between irritation at the pro-royal coverage and irritation at people going on about how embarrassing it all was. Some of it definitely was embarrassing. When W and K (that looks like 'wank') left the palace in that car the BBC commentary was incredible. First came this gem... 'isn't it wonderful to see the future king driving himself?'. Do I need to analyse the idiocy in that sentence? I guess not. I've just put it out there for you to feel a little ashamed that you live in a world where someone said that. It didn't end there. WanK were driving slowly down that massive mall, with no traffic except for a protection vehicle when a BBC 'commentator' said 'He's a good driver isn't he?'.

It strikes me that this country treats the royals like disabled children on prize giving day. We pat them on the head for completing the simplest of tasks. It could be fun to be a royal. Just to see how low you could set the bar for head patting. 'Isn't it marvellous that Prince Bergus can chew food? It's easy to forget that the royals are just like us and capable of eating solids unassisted'.

But here's the thing. It seems so ball achingly obvious that the royal family is a ridiculous institution. Therefore, I find it quite dull when people bang on about it. I bang on about it all the time and kind of hate myself for it. Talk about something else, bellend! Who cares? Not the populous, of that we can be certain. For years, republicanism has been my strongest political conviction. That and my belief that all Virgos must die. Now, as I get older, I'm starting to give much less of a shit. They're not going anywhere so I might as well enjoy it. My mother genuinely watches all royal weddings whilst wearing her wedding dress. She does this whilst insisting that she is a staunch anti-royalist. That strikes me as quite a nice balance between common sense and mental. If you can't beat them - join them, but do so in a way that's borderline disturbing. Team GB! Team GB! Team GB!