When this website started almost a year ago, one of its main intentions – that is, apart from mouthing off in public and discussing comics and porn in the same breath as Nietzsche – was to make connections with others in the same business and of the same mind. As much to our surprise as everyone else’s, we have. Bonza.

However, there’s also been a deliberate attempt to maintain a certain anonymity (hence the excruciating use of the 1st person plural all the bloody time), and to keep work and play somewhat separate. It now appears that our cover has been blown to such an extent that it’s hard to resist going off on one about it. So, bowing to popular pressure (Cisoux, who are you? to the tune of Scooby-Doo), it is time for full disclosure:

• The day job is with Snowbooks.
• We just won Small Publisher of the Year.
• I wrote about why I think we did for The Guardian’s Culture Vulture blog – and would be more than happy to discuss this with anyone who cares.
• All credit belongs to my colleagues, and all thanks to my boss.

The awards ceremony in Bournemouth was a right beano. If it hadn’t been in Bournemouth it would have been like the Oscars. Kinda. It used to be in London with the main Book Awards and all the glamorous authors, but then Richard & Judy came along and spoiled everything by making it trendy and famous and televised, necessitating keeping all us weirdos in the trade out of the limelight. Still, there were high hegions everywhere and some of them were even quite nice to us after we won. And I got to swim in the sea on a bright May morning because it was the only thing capable of relieving the crashing waves of pain in my skull.

Anything else? Oh yes: here is a picture of me wearing the award as a hat.

And that is the end of work-related discussion here.