It might be because I spent the last two hours furiously tapping my responses to events into my laptop, but I thought that flew by. It was a very well put together show, I thought. You might even say it was slick as fuck. Why do pop shows have to be shambling messes fronted by wanker comedians trying to out-rock’n’roll the acts? Okay, actual genuine innovative music was thin on the ground tonight, but as a show it was fine. And maybe there were too few awards. You wouldn’t want the 276 categories you get at the Grammys, but four is possibly narrowing things down a tad.

What do you think?

Here are some Twitter-eactions:

Rakena Alsina hated the whole kit and caboodle.

“Voted by presenters and promoters as well as leading music journalists” (you’re too kind). And to present the award, a man who is without doubt the greatest living Seventysomething Welsh crooner with a tight silver bubbleperm.

Chris Evans reminds us of the six nominees. If Bowie doesn’t win, it will surely be because the Beeb do what every award-stagers do - and give the gong, either to whoever they can get to appear to receive it otherwise they’ll look as though they can’t get their winners to turn up; or to someone who has made money for the industry over the past 12 months.

So it has to be 1D or Sheeran.

It’s Sheeran! Could he BE any less stellar and alien-glamorous? If he was any more good-blokey his records would come with a free pint. Fearne asks him what his career-highlight has been so far. His answer is so forgettable... I can’t remember what he said.

“Well, what a night it’s been,” says that other russet-haired doyen of good blokedom, Chris Evans. It’s the end of the show!

To close, it’s God Only Knows, the BBC version. Is Brian here?? Paloma and Tom Jones kick things off, pummelling the original into submission. It’s a Tim/Paloma duet not the multi-artist affair from the Beeb Music ad.

Welcome back from Mars if you didn’t see it.

It went a little like this.

The final nominees for British Artist of the Year. Isn’t it a bit early for that for Jungle? Fine album and everything, but Bowie, Elbow and Jungle are in different places in their careers.

Perhaps they need an interim award next year, one that slots between Introducing and British Artist, the latter suggesting longevity and a richness of back catalogue, no?

I still wish Jungle were those two dudes in green budget sportswear as suggested by their early press shots.

Even the staunchest That fans are going to be squirming a tad at those dad-dance moves and those white suits. Still, good on them for carrying on after the other one, you know, thingie, left. Wotsit. The not-Robbie one. This is These Days, not a half-bad pop-dance ditty, but “song” is stretching it a little. People do that thing with Gary Barlow that they used to do with Abba. “Oh, he’s a genius songwriter, really. I mean, Back For Good...” And then they stumble a bit because after Back For Good, where do you go? Relight My Fire? They didn’t write that one! Anyone out there name another Take That song that isn’t Back For Good?

See, told you.

The forces’ sweetheart, even though there isn’t actually a war on, proving that her TV plugger is the one who really deserves all the awards.

The Ed Sheeran of his day. Being assessed by Chris Martin and Olly Murs on the monitors. Murs looks even more prepossessing in giant size. Dave must be feeling truly humbled. “I feel truly humbled,” he surely just muttered, breathless with wonder, to Iman as she poured him another cuppa.

In case you need reminding, here’s Bowie, the original ginger troubadour, laying the template for Ed Sheeran’s good-time acoustica.

Animal or living organism-related band monikers always sound a little odd before the band in question achieves household name status (see also: the Beatles and Arctic Monkeys), but it won’t sound odd this time next year. (If it does, I’d recommend just calling them the Bottlemen).

Catfish & The Bottlemen! Which we already sort of knew because they were booked to perform tonight.

It’s almost disconcerting to see an actual, you know, BAND. In leather jackets and skinny black jeans. With unkempt hair. Remember all that?

This should help remind you.

And now, a plug for BBC Introducing. From various employees of the BBC. Footage of the 15-year-old Jake Bugg singing a demo at the Beeb is used as an example of the power and glory of Introducing.

Here’s Zane Lowe, talking about “one of the breakout bands of the year”, in that voice of his, with that intonation, that - and I’m not sure why - always makes me die a little inside and makes me somehow embarrassed to be listening to rock’n’roll.

It’s Calvin Harris! There’s Guetta singing his praises. And there are voiceovers declaring his achievements. He’s a shape-shifter! He’s had a billion streams! And he appeared in the world-famous Guardian New Band of the Day column in 2007! In which I proclaimed him to be “not far off the super-slick synthfunk of Felix Da Housecat”. Ha. How prophetic.

John Newman has joined him onstage. The last time I saw him, he was performing upstairs in a sweaty hot pub venue in front of about 100 even sweatier and hotter revellers. Now he is wearing a jacket that Prince - or Pharrell - would dismiss as excessively gaudy, singing in front of millions.

Meantime, and sorry if I sound like your dad here, Ellie Goulding appears to be dressed for the beach. I hope she’s not going outside dressed like that. She’ll catch her death.

He’s dressed like a cool cyber warden in a sci-fi movie set in a hospital in a dystopian future-world.

He’s here to present the Song of the Year award.

They’re showing clips of all the contenders. As I say, I was forced to listen at sherbert dib-dab point to chart radio every day this year and even I don’t recognise Nico and Vinz.

Pharrell has won this one as well!!

I really must start that book.

Only Pharrell could make a pink blazer/Smokey The Bear hat combo work.

And only Pharrell could win Song of the Year 15 years into his career. That would be like, I dunno, Brian Wilson having a No 1 and winning a Brit in 1978. What, for Solar System?

The biggest male pop star of 2014 is a ginger bloke with an acoustic guitar. Strange times. Then again, his best song is way more Pharrell than it is Ed. He is performing it now. It sounds better blasting out of the radio, in all its diaphanous glory. Here it is a little less fleet of foot. But the way he has become some sort of totemic figure representing all that is brave and adventurous about British pop - and you can include urban/R&B in that, as this year’s MOBOs proved - is a teensy bit disturbing.

They’re apparently working on a new album and so they are officially Not Splitting Up (expect stories to the contrary to emerge during Xmas then).

Another testament to the value of Not Winning A Reality TV Show. Blimey, that’s a lot of ink on Zane’s arm. And Harry has gone all medallion man, with his shirt undone to his navel. But what a navel.

They’ve still to release a song of note, but they do look good, as boy “bands” go, and they have made a lot of money for Blighty (and themselves), as Chris is pointing out right now.

Here’s one of them earlier (muscular tattooed bicep not pictured).

Last year’s James Bay (TM) has left the stage.

Now there’s a video of Greg James, a Radio 1 DJ, in a tutu.

I have no idea.

Ah, now I do - he’s doing “pastiches” of the year’s best promos, such as All About That Bass. And if that involves putting on a tutu, so be it.

Now he’s dressed as Ed Sheeran.

Here he is as himself, to remind you.

Chris is getting a young lady in the crowd, a random one in a trilby, to announce the winner.

It’s Pharrell!! I win!! Absolutely nothing!! (apart from maybe a few extra readers of that book).

Gwen Stefani presents the award on “tape”.

How cool is Pharrell? I once spent the day with him, for the Guardian. He slept through a lot of the interview but it was still a great day. For all the accolades and acclaim, I still think he’s not rated quite as highly as he should be. Give or take a brief mid-noughties blip, he’s been at the top of his production game for well over a decade - make that a decade and a half - and now he’s a solo star!! Kenny Gamble never managed that! And that’s without mentioning the N*E*R*D albums, at least two of which are stone classics.

Anyway. George Ezra is on now. I’m now going to bathe in essence of anti-climax.

For International Artist of the Year. Voted for by sundry types such as Music Journalists!

Can I apologise (a joint-one for the GP hat and this) in advance, because I may well have ticked a box or two myself for this.

Unless someone good wins.

Prince? Pharrell? Taylor Swift? My money, if I had any, would be on Pharrell, and not just because I’m meant to be writing a book on him (true story).

Why does Gregory Porter wear that hat? I wouldn’t mind, but he actually keeps the flaps done up. Nobody does that. Even people who subsist in freezing climates nonchalantly keep the flaps down. He keeps them up all the time, INCLUDING INDOORS.

Even on Breakfast TV.

Although if there are medical reasons for his 24/7, hot/cold deployment of the flap-cap, my sincere apologies.

More “worthy” than “cringe-worthy”.

Maybe that slickness is what is making this show - so far anyway - seem quite fast-paced and un-cringe-worthy. Also nice to NOT see Fearne and Chris attempt to demonstrate their bad-boy/girl credentials. They’re just getting on with it.

The new Sam Fox and Mick Fleetwood? Nah, way too slick and professional for that kind of amateurish palaver. The kind of people you ideally want presenting a show about shiny pop music? Hmmm...

Chris and Fearne run through the nominees.

First is Sam Smith, who was greeted like a young god when I saw him onstage with Disclosure in New York earlier this year - and that was before he’d released a single solo note. Ah, there’s the Disclosure boys talking about him on “tape”. Can’t look at Guy now without thinking of what Azealia Banks said about him the other week.

Talking of Jools... This is shaping up to be a sort of live, glorified version of Later..., only with awards.

Heeere’s Ella! More proof that Losing X-Factor* is actually better for your career than winning (see also: One Direction, who we might be seeing in a bit).

*She came sixth.

Repeat 10 times: I must not make the bleedin’-obvious point about the paradox that is the grindingly tedious Coldplay opening a supposedly exciting! new! pop! show! But they continue to be Radiohead without all the experimental idiosyncrasies and tendency to cop their favourite bits from old Aphex Twin albums. Still, it must be something to be there.

Now all we’ve got to do is square the circle between thrilling pop and Chris Evans/Fearne Cotton.

The BBC’s latest nail-colour-mast scenario vis a vis pop music is about to start.

I meant the Boobs.

“We’re not here for the awards,” said Ed Sheeran just now on The One Show.

Yeah, right.

Here’s a picture of Ed exuding insouciance and man-of-the-people bonhomie.

Did you see Pixie Lott’s dress about 10 minutes ago on The One Show? You didn’t? How quickly do these things get onto YouTube? Put it this way: Lady Gaga apparently copped it and was heard to mutter: “That’s an avant-garde step too far” as she sacked her entire fashion entourage and vowed never to wear anything but jeans and a T-shirt ever again.

I cannot for the life of me find the list of contenders for the final award, the BBC Introducing Act of the Year, but I do wonder a) how it compares and contrasts with the BBC Sound of 2015 poll and b) know that it includes Catfish & The Bottlemen, who Caroline Sullivan told us this week were “sweaty” and “swaggering”, in that order.

Unlike the Brits, the Beebs have only four awards: for British Artist of the Year! International Artist of The Year! Song of The Year! and BBC Introducing Act of the Year!

David Bowie, Ed Sheeran, Elbow, Jungle, Royal Blood and Sam Smith are competing for British Artist of the year. Bowie vs Sheeran? I’m not going to make a boxing analogy and suggest that that is like putting Ali in a ring with, um, Cleverly, because they’re probably entirely different weights (“Exactly!” - Guardian’s entire readership).

Meanwhile, here is a picture of David Bowie preparing to “land one on” (boxing term) Sheero that I made earlier:

“We don’t want to do something that’s just like the Brits - that’s really for the record labels and the industry and it’s a very much more commercial body,” said Bob Shennan, Director of BBC Music, “but this is more about how the BBC saw music during the course of the year and how we can celebrate UK music on the national broadcaster.”

Um, can you tell the difference between the Brits and the - as nobody is calling them yet - Beebs?

Remember this?