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Tube Talk: Night Of The Saggy Globes

TUBE TALK With John T. Forde

Night Of The Saggy Globes

Gird your loins and slap on your tiara - it’s Award Shows time! If, like me, you’ve been practising your Oscar acceptance speech in the shower since the age of nine, you’ll re-plan your life around the awards show TV schedule. Even if you hate Hollywood, tune in anyway for the fun of watching insecure celebrities worshipping their elephantine egos.

First up in the headbasket is the Golden Globes – seen as a good predictor of which prize ponies will nab Oscar nominations. A relaxed and boozy affair, the nominees sit at dinner tables with their nervous managers, life coaches and drug dealers in support, the clink of wine glasses interrupts many an acceptance speech, and occasionally someone gets trolleyed enough to make a complete arse of themselves.

And what a feast of arses there were! Meryl Streep was the surprise winner of Best Boozehag in a Supporting Role. Hailed as a role model by aspiring actresses everywhere, Meryl – decked out bizarrely in a spangly Vegas cocktail-waitress top and a weird tulle tailpiece that she kept tripping over – came off more like my Aunty Zelda when she can’t find her gin bottle at Christmas time. But despite being nervous and drunk, The Streepster managed to be wittier than most winners with pre-written speeches. “I’ve only been nominated 789 times, so I was getting ready for a nice long nap,” she lamented, amid a standing ovation.

At the other end of the evolutionary scale, Renée Zellweger disendeared herself to everyone who liked her with cellulite in Bridget Jones’ Diary by making a hideous, squealing “I can’t believe I won!” speech. (Honey – it was a one-in-five chance. Get a grip. Nice Valentino dress, though). We were dying for the camera to pan to Renée’s losing Chicago co-star Catherine Zeta-Jones to catch her obligatory “I-can’t-believe-that-talentless-bitch-won” fake smile. Still, when you’re wearing a diamond the size of a golf ball around your neck, who needs a Globe?

Even less subtle was Jennifer Aniston, who appeared to mouth “He’s so fat!” when presenter Kiefer Sutherland came on stage to present Best TV Bimbo. In a nice touch of evil karma, Jennifer won, and had to hobble on stage with a walking stick to get the gong from Kiefer.

Jen could’ve used a lesson or two in humility from fellow Greek girl Nia Vardalos, writer-star of My Big Fat Greek Surprise Multi-Million Dollar Blockbuster, who just looked pleased to be there. And acting like a true gentleman was Harrison Ford, who brought his daughter along… whoops – that’s Calista Flockhart!

In the dress stakes, it seemed Bad Cleavage was back. “There’s too much sag and not enough lift and thrust,” my friend Paula Pistol sniffed, as we surveyed one starlet’s unfortunate structural engineering. The disturbingly skeletal Lara Flynn Boyle wore her childhood ballet tutu and pointe shoes, and a deranged Sharon Stone went for garbage-dwelling transsexual hooker chic in a slashed leather-and-fur skirt.

Nicole Kidman won Best Prosthetic Nose for The Hours (while Tommy watched at home from Taranaki?), and an absent Peter Jackson lost the best director and film gongs to Martin Scorcese and – again – The Hours. But beware, Hollywood – we’ll be back, prosthetic noses and feet in tow, to kick your ASS next year.

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