Dimension Jump XI

Saturday Night

The Red Dwarf Olympics, then. A highly competitive sport, this year updated to include bullet-dropping and table golf alongside Junior Angler and planet potting. Only the strong survived and the downright lucky triumphed.

Hattie Hayridge took to the stage briefly that night to host the by-now-massively-impressive Fancy Dress competition. The standard seems to go up every year - to the point where the judging panel (myself, Helen Norman, Mike Tucker, Shend and the Club's own Jane) were unable to award low numbers to anyone!

Pleasing moments came courtesy of Paul Gannon (who spared us full nudity this year, though only just, thanks to his Lycra Legion suit), James Melpas as the Cat (the impression, the moves, this guy had it all down cold) and Roxy Lowe as Kochanski - confusing us for a moment when we thought her crutches and cast were part of the costume, rather than a genuine injury. Oh, and Jane Milburn as Marilyn Monroe - the male votes were definitely there.

The eventual winners were Simon Smith in first place as a walking, flashing, firing bazookoid, Paul Cook second as Kryten's rogue hand, and Rebecca Ault as a grotesque (in a good way) Caroline Carmen. An honourable mention went to Jack Lucas, a young lad with a huge Dwarf-fan future before him.

Hattie tried to introduce comedy magician John Lenahan next, but... "He's disappeared. You don't get better magic than that!" Instead, a short drinks-based interlude was arranged. "You'll see more magic if you're pissed..."

Still, when John did step up, he stormed the joint. Eventually. In a quieter moment, he was forced to ask, "Am I standing the right way? No, you guys are great, I wish I had a better act." He does seem to like doing the DJ weekends. "They're always great. Except for the year I had to follow Norman Lovett's daughter. That was tough."

This performance included a telepathy test with an accidental twist: "This is the challenge I've set myself - mind-reading a man with no mind." But the whoops and cheers assured him his antics were working in the end.

So, that was Saturday. Or, more accurately, it's the moment we flicked off the sign and went off-duty. The music was loud, the dancing was furious (as were the people I trod on) and the repartee was as sophisticated as... well... never mind.

It's always sad to get to this stage, knowing that the last day, Sunday, is just over the horizon. Still, we put a brave face on things... until we fell asleep under piles of pizza boxes.