Did he win?
Up all night on Tuesday - tense with anticipation about yesterday’s announcement of the UK’s Young Publisher of the Year.
Given all that I’ve written about him in the past, it must seem slightly unbelievable that Idle Tom the Publisher was even in the running.
But, as I spoke to Idle Tom over breakfast yesterday morning, he had that quiet easy confidence of the man who knows he’s the front-runner.
He was eating - or so he claimed - devilled kidneys, washed down with a glass of Bollinger. “Man-food,” he said.
“Looking forward to the awards event this afternoon?” I said.
“Yep!” He said. “Going to be even better than when I got my A-level results.”
“Er, if you say so Tom. I only hope you get the result you deserve,” I said. “By the way, is the awards ceremony going to be on the net?”
“Doubt it.” He started to cough. Probably the bubbles going up his nose.
“Could you give me a call later then to tell me how you fared?”
“Sure!”
“Good luck! I’m sure you’ll have a ball!”
Twelve hours later, and long after the awards ceremony, I was still awaiting Tom’s call. Quite understandably, he’d forgotten all about me.
I tried to Google the result. No dice.
Finally, in desperation, I called him up.
Tom’s mobile rang a long time, before he picked up. I could hear people singing in the background.
“Yesh?”
“Tom! What happened? How did you get on? Are you the UK’s Young Publisher of the Year?”
“Who ish thish?”
“Tom! It’s Bill! Did you win?”
“Bill? I don’t think -” he’d slurred himself to a standstill. “I don’t think I know any Bills.”
“Forget that! Did you win?”
“Win?” More screaming in the background. The sounds of a scuffle and the phone hitting the floor. The line went dead.
So I regret to say that I’m still none the wiser about who’s this year’s Young Publisher of the Year.
Doubtless all will be revealed tomorrow … Tom’s hangover’s permitting.