Name: Nicolai Fuglsig
Job: Director, MJZ
Professional mission: For sure, it's gonna be fuckin' cool!
Personal mantra: For sure, it's gonna be fuckin' cool
9.00am Wake up ... My friend Peter Funch is visiting from New York. He's on the sofa, hungover.
10.00am Breakfast at the Directors Guild of America. I'm here to meet the Coens, Julian Schnabel, Tony Gilroy and PT Anderson, I'm up for a DGA Award. Can't eat.
11.00am I am front-row at the director's symposium. A rare chance to listen to the masters.
1.30pm I'm on my way to pick up my new tailored tux - how much?!
3.00pm Back home. Peter has made lunch. Herring and Schnapps.
4.20pm Shave and shower.
5.00pm We salute in Dom Perignon before leaving for the ceremony.
6.10pm Arrive. Paparazzi outside, but nobody takes a shot of us.
6.17pm On the escalator, Josh Brolin is just three steps away, I'm not really used to all this.
6.20pm Go to the table. Shake hands with Dante and Bond. We're all thinking the other's gonna win.
8.00pm Am seated, watch the show.
8.23pm I meet Tom Wilkinson in the men's room. He is limping, why? Want to tell him how great he is in Michael Clayton, but I don't.
9.40pm Ellen Page, from Juno, glides across the stage ... she smiles, jokes, and then I think she's joking again when she says: "And the award for best commercial director goes to: Nicolai Fuglsig." Ka-pow!
9.41pm Up on stage, blinded by the spotlight. I give Ellen Page a hug. She smells lovely. Golden award in hand, I'm ready for my speech.
9.42pm Leave the stage, and the photographers are snapping away, Page is at my side, look left, look right. She's told to step aside. No, come back.
10.00pm Wow, I can't believe it, my best friend and fellow Dane, Asger Leth, wins an award for best documentary film-maker.
11.45pm The show is over, but another show must go on.
12.05am I'm at the MJZ party. There are 300 people jamming the bar, drinks come flying my way, another, then another. Stop it! Drinks on me.
3.00am The party's over ... no it's not.
3.20am Mulholland Drive. We're at my house. The party continues.
4.00am People arrive, people leave.
6.00am A crazy Norwegian is stalking the girls. Where did he come from? Oh, a friend of Bond's.
6.45am LA wakes. Last glance at my new bling and I hit the sack.
To see an extended version, go to brandrepublic.com/campign.