by Stuart Heritage
Are you looking forward to the Oscars on Sunday? No. No, of course you’re not. Nobody is. It’s OK. Nobody is.
Just don’t tell the Oscars organisers. They’re absolutely murdering themselves trying to get even a flicker of Oscars-related interest from the populous at large and, it’s fair to say, they’re failing spectacularly.
But the Oscar people have got an ingenious joker up their sleeves – they’re keeping the award presenters secret until the ceremony itself. Incredible! But here’s a warning – if the awards aren’t presented by Elvis, Jesus and a dancing troupe of exploding nuns, we’ll be sorely effed off.
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by Stuart Heritage
If you believe that the BAFTAs act as a bellweather for the Oscars, then Slumdog Millionaire will win all the Oscars.
Also, the Oscars are going to be really bloody drizzly. Because that happened at the BAFTAs too. But anyway, Slumdog Millionaire was the big winner at last night’s BAFTA awards, scooping Best Film, Best Director, Best Music, Best Cinematography, Best Editing and Best Adapted Screenplay. Why? Because it’s principally British? No. Well, yes. A bit.
But Slumdog Millionaire wasn’t the only thing to leave the BAFTAs with anything. We left with the onset of trenchfoot. Eat that, Dev Patel.
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