Mistakes can happen.
I remember when Mr Sickens sent me to the guillotine on page 233 before he realised it was the wrong day of the week; he was writing ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ on Thursdays, ‘A C*r*s*m*s Carol’ on Tuesdays.
I still get twinges in my neck at the thought of it. I’m so glad I managed to burrow my way out of Victorian Literature and into the twenty-first century, although sometimes there doesn’t seem to be too much difference.
As for the Oscars, how do you think I felt when La La Land was announced the winner? I’d staked a whole ingot on Moonlight.
At least they confessed that it was the wrong envelope. 2016 was a year of mistakes it was far too embarrassing to put right.
It’s a little-known alternative fact that Remain beat Leave 8.4% to 2.5% with 89.1% voting for an immediate invasion of mainland Europe – somebody mis-read the figures and by the time they realised, Mrs May was already Brexit-means-Brexiting all over the front pages; that several million spoilt ballot papers voting for Donald Duck were counted as votes for Trump; and that two-thirds of those dead celebrities are still living , condemned to a state of non-existence by over-excited headlines. Once the florid obituaries were published and the distraught fans had shed bucket-loads of tears on Sky news and the posthumous awards were awarded posthumously, nobody had the courage to come forward and say, ‘I had a slight cough, that was all.’
It’s all turned out well in the end. Of course I had a spot bet on Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway being handed the wrong envelope. I got VERY good odds on that. It pays to have inside information, whether you’re betting on a pie-eating goalie or the start-date of World War III.