Plain, everyday TV programs turn quite surreal when you fast-forward them half-smashed on martinis. Which, really, is the only way to watch an awards show.

Mostly I paused the Golden Globes for speeches: Ricky Gervais, Tina Fey, Colin Farrell. Otherwise, the few times I stopped it was because I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I thought I saw Christopher Walken trying to break out of a straitjacket, but it turned out to be Renee Zellweger in some fashion-forward gown. Gepetto pounding nails into Pinocchio was actually Paul Giamatti eating dinner. And a big white bird regurgitating worms into the mouth of a baby bird was really Jessica Lange and Drew Barrymore presenting an award.

Otherwise the only thing I remember is the name Al Schwartz in the credits. Maybe it's because of all the Holocaust movies they featured, but I was absolutely startled that a professional man in Hollywood hasn't done something about that name. We must have argued about it for half an hour.

"It's patently, obviously offensive!" I said.

"You're always imagining offensive things in the trivial," said my friend Dak Cowe.