Night of Nights

It’s Oscar time and Devon Quince gets his nose in everything from the red carpet to the after party.

I will not lie. My hands were shaking as I laced up my shiny new dress shoes in my hotel room on Sunset. The bed was strewn with a million possible outfits (until I remembered it was black tie and had to dash out and buy a tuxedo). The coffee maker lay on the floor after I had knocked it over the night before during a bout of sleepwalking. But, I was too distracted to pick it up; this was it. I was going to the Oscars.

I arrived on the red carpet early. Even so, Seacrest (Ryan) had the best position and those pigs at E! News weren’t budging an inch. I tried to buddy up to Richard Wilkins, but he blanked me like one of those many children of his. What happened to good old Aussie mateship, Wilkins?! Anyway, I managed to jostle a spot down with all the foreign guys from like Albania and Guatemala. They were good guys, but they all seemed to spit when they talked and the stars didn’t really want to hang around for long. But I did have a lengthy talk to our Nicole and her cowboy, Keith Urban- which made it all the sweeter when I saw they only gave old Wilkins up the other end a few measly seconds.

During the ceremony I mostly hung out by the toilets in the foyer. I couldn’t get in to the ceremony (they were going to let me be a seat filler for Phillip Seymour Hoffman but ultimately decided I was too fat). I did get to see Daniel Day Lewis in the toilets but he didn’t seem all that impressed with my impression of Daniel Plainview.

I would have been on my way home once the Coen’s left the stage for the third time, but luckily one of my guys from Guatemala said he knew the security guard at the Vanity Fair Party and could get me in. So we popped along there but before I could down my fourth champagne I was being dragged out my collar. Apparently Dennis Hopper had complained about the guy I got in with who was caught masturbating behind one of the ice sculptures.

So the night was over. The clock had struck 2am and Cinderella Quince was on the way home from the ball in a police cruiser. Luckily my Guatemalan guy took the wrap and I made it back to my hotel without prosecution. What a night. Well, as the saying goes, there ain’t no business like show business.