Most winners have thrown caution to the wind and are thanking dead relatives and defiantly shouting over the band as it sweeps in to usher them off. I can take no more. I go off for a pee. The lobby is filled with disgruntled nominees drowning their sorrows or nervously sneaking off for a pee. I hurry back to discover I've missed Randy Newman.
Several hours pass.
I am now beginning to get genuinely bored. Around the hall are several TV screens and you see how much better everything looks on telly. The rather scruffy reality is somehow transformed into glitz. Bob Dylan is announced and I sit up hopefully. Unfortunately, he is in Sydney.