Nik (editor of MacUser), Graham (editor of MacFormat) and Mark (editor of Macworld)

Last night, then, was this year’s Awards. 310 people in tuxes and ties to hear how many of the 31,410 votes cast they’d managed to gobble up for themselves. Then eat, drink and dance until two, followed by the after-party until fourish.

Incredibly it’s already my fourth awards at MacUser, and on reflection I think it was the best so far. Certainly the most enjoyable.

I had a feeling it would be, after a bit of an omen before it began. Somehow - scattiness - I’d managed to turn up without any cuff links, so my cuffs were flapping around like a seal’s limp wrists. I tried to stuff them up my sleeves, but they kept slipping out. By now it was already gone six, and after some unsuccessful fixing attempts with elastic bands and string I set out on what I thought would be a hopeless trek along Fulham high street.

Fifteen minutes later, I came across the only shop not selling pizzas, kebabs or haircuts still to be open. And it was a ties and cufflinks shop. That probably says a lot about the demographic of Fulham, none of which will be a surprise, but I leapt in through the door, slightly scaring the guy behind the counter, who ended up dispatching me again with a brand new set of yellow and black ones, at no charge.

In those colours they do look a bit like wasps, which perhaps explains the recoils whenever I went to shake hands, but at least it didn’t look like I had Victorian ruffs flopping out of my sleeves for the rest of the night.

Tim (editor of PC Pro), Claire (marketing), Jem (events)

So, anyway, we buzzed through the ceremony in record time so we could get on with the eating and the drinking, and the 15 winners could indulge in the traditional after-dinner game of losing their trophies under random tables and going home without them.

Tim charmed the ladies, our swing band entertained everyone who was still able to stand and at 2am we loaded ourselves into buses and went to some random place below street level in Chelsea to drink colourful liquids that tasted of pineapple from glasses so filled with ice you had to use a straw.

Adam (funny)

Any good gossip? No, I don’t think so. Nobody was sick in the venue. No-one started a fight. Everyone seemed to get home alright. Or, at least, we haven’t had any paniced phone calls today from anyone expecting a missing party-goer home.

I even managed to read my auto cue with only one slip-up, which I think is the best attempt so far, despite only one rehearsal. I was sitting on a table with nine Germans when the comedian started to make jokes about Germans (and for good measure two of them were female for when he started to make jokes about women drivers). That only got particularly uncomfortable when one of the Germans picked up the heavy metal award his company had won and, weighing it in his hand, said ‘there are fifteen people in this room who have won these who could batter him to death’.

Goodnight from Claire and Jem

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