Thank me

I would like to thank the Oscars for being on soon – that big Thank-in starring a bunch of Thankinsteins.

Coincidently, I have just received news from the Irish Academy of Words that I have won a Lifetime Achievement Award after handing in my 1000th article for Village. The award means a lot to me because it is voted for by my peers in the Academy (people who write words for a living: journalists, novelists, waiters, traffic wardens). They're giving me a gold statuette of a drunken man looking for dropped change on the floor of a church.

I would like to thank a few people:

I would like to thank my two beautiful children without whom this award would not have been possible. Through your love and need you have truly taught me the true meaning of the phrases "working your hole off," "thankless task," and "I wish I was a table".

I would like to thank my wife for her belief in me when everybody else said that I was an eejit and she was a bigger eejit to be havin' anything to do with me. Darling, I love you and if you're reading this, please come home wherever you are. I miss you. PS Hi kids.

I would like to thank my agent who, at our first meeting, invited me to lunch at his office. As we sat on the park bench he gave me an invaluable piece of advice: "There is no such thing as a free lunch." Then he charged me for the chicken sandwiches and Ribena and left. He inspired me with the feeling that I could take on the whole world and do anything I wanted if only I had a different agent.

I would like to thank Engelbert Humperdink who made me feel okay about my name.

I would like to thank the editorial staff at Village who ring me constantly suggesting edits and other possible words I could use ("Couldn't you use another word instead of variety?" "Perhaps you could use the word flibby instead of the word fuck and "Do you have any pictures of yourself that don't make me puke my guts up?"). Their striving for perfection makes me feel shoddy (Perhaps sloppy would be a better word – ed).

I would like to thank Phil Coulter for my first musical experience: smashing up a record player.

For helping me through the hard times I would like to thank gin, vodka, Guinness and heroin. Then I hit Rock Bottom. Rock Bottom was an American porn star who made cosmetic surgery history by injecting pebble-dash into his butt and having a granite graph over the result. Rock took me under his wing (he'd had swan wings grafted onto his hands) and taught me how to write like a whore. Hence my success. The last time I saw him he lay dying in the cosmetic hospital wing (an arm) and he could barely lift the new YouCanDoAnythingTube he'd had grafted onto his forehead. He died a year later when his body rejected the humming birds he'd had sewn into his heart.

Most importantly (and lastly) I'd like to thank YOU – the reader. My Fan Bag has been bursting with your thanks and worship and, my God but it feels good. The feel of your eyes running over my words in the privacy of your own home makes it all throbbing (perhaps worthwhile instead of throbbing – ed). This award is as much yours as mine – your satisfaction as my annual income increases dramatically due to this award (already I have had numerous offers of work including Reader's Digest asking me to write the funny anecdotes that their readers send in and The Sunday Independent asking me to write about fancy people).

I would also like to thank the sky for being a constant source of limit.

Thank you everybody – I love you all. xxx