European Poker Awards

As Marty, in his wisdom, foresaw the collapse of sterling and headed for Australia to win some real money, Paul suggested that Vero and I toddle along to the Aviation Club to represent the Great One at the European Poker Awards ceremony. I immediately agreed as accepting a trophy on Marty's behalf was as close as I'm ever going to get to getting my hands on one.

Things didn't look too good when we arrived because the first person I met was Nic Szeremeta who told us we hadn't been included in the dining arrangements as he'd heard we were in Dublin. This was a bit of a surprise because I told him twice in Galway (once when I was sober and once when he was) that we'd definitely be there.

When the dust settled, we ended up at a table with Marcel and the Devilfish, which is about as good a seat draw as you can get at these things. My suspicions that we were going to have to make our own entertainment were confirmed when it transpired that Isabelle was the Master of Ceremonies. I take back all I ever said about Terry Wogan.

Both the Fish and Marcel were in flying form and it wasn't long before the Fish launched into a story about a guy he'd met who'd been stopped by the police whilst driving a stolen car. They asked him what the car's registration number was and, fair play to him, the fact that he didn't have a clue didn't stop him from having a stab at it. When the police stopped laughing, they said they'd give him one more guess for the laugh and he manfully tried again but got a bit unlucky for the second time. I'm sure there's a poker lesson in that somewhere.

Marty had been nominated in two categories and was certainly in with a good chance of winning the Player of the year award (Peter Eastgate was a certainty to win the performance of the year trophy which had Marty's name written on before the Dane won the main event). I was a bit concerned when I saw the trophies as they looked remarkably like sex toys for gentlemen, so I decided to give the taxi rank outside the nearby Queen nightclub a miss if Marty won.

Considering Coca-Cola was my weapon of choice, the evening wasn't too bad. The Ladies Award was good craic and we spent a few minutes arguing over how many of the nominees had actually had a winning year. The highlight for me was the Innovator's Award, the trophy for which is named after my always friend and sometimes colleague, the late Rob Gardner. Rob and Nic hadn't always seen eye to eye when Rob was still with us so it was great to see Nic presenting the Award. Fair play to him.

Unfortunately Marty finished up with nothing. Except for a couple of million of course. He can buy as many sex toys as he likes!