Forest Whitaker, the frontrunner for this year's best actor Oscar, is singled out for particular blather. "We think you're great," Kiss-Up informs him. "Everyone says such wonderful things about you."
After a while it all gets a bit too much. I can't help wishing that Kiss-Up, Gush and Flirt would start expanding their repertoire. Maybe they could just inexplicably snub one of the nominees, just for the fun of it. "Nah, not now, Winslet. Move along."
Or perhaps ask something totally off-kilter and inappropriate. "Halle Berry, you're looking utterly fabulous this evening. Now tell me: that time you crashed your car and fled the scene. How drunk must you have been?"
But no. Instead Kiss-Up rushes to welcome Kate Winslet with open arms, informs her that he is a "big fan of your friend Ricky Jarvis [sic]" and reminds her that "we are live on E!". Understandably, Kate beats a hasty retreat.
I for one would have given an Oscar to Little Miss Sunshine for Best Picture. Scorsese doesn't need your friggin' Oscar. He didn't get it for Taxi Driver, or for Raging Bull. Why now? It's like giving Dylan a Grammy for Time Out of Mind. Oh well.