Like the goofball I am, I was out at a dinner that I’d had organized for 3 months with a dear friend, when I got text alerts saying I should be at the XBiz Honors, in Hollywood a few weeks ago.  I made my excuses and ordered the most useless Uber driver in Los Angeles who succeeded in slowing down so he could hit every red light, and driving 5 miles below the limit.  Arriving at the hotel, and finding my way to the ballroom, the doors opened and everyone piled out, friends asking ‘Where was I?’ as I made silly excuses.

It was only a little later than I got to read Leya’s speech, and since have heard the video – and it’s overwhelming.  She is correct, I did cringe and get embarrassed hearing it – as a Northern Englander (the same as Leya) we’re not great on getting compliments.  It’s just the way we are – but hearing and reading these,  it’s hard not to feel emotional, and thankful that I’ve been recognized for doing something I always though was natural, to be the best person I can be.  I’ve failed at that often, but like the company I helm, and the staff I’m lucky enough to work with us, we genuinely try to do the best by people, while also protecting our interests and the people who work with us.  We try to be kind.  We try to be realistic and communicate the right messages, and we try to platform this community in the industry, and to be recognized for that, is extremely touching.   Having won company awards over the years for DVD’s or websites, this is by far the most personal and beautiful  and I’d like to thank Leya and the Pineapple Board for this recognition.   It’s something I am extremely proud of, have shared with my family and non-industry friends, and I aim to be the best we can be going forward and continuing our legacy.

Thank you.

Leya’s Speech in Full

The Pineapple Award isn’t about big personalities, shiny titles, or who’s loudest in the room.
It’s about the grafters.
The ones who quietly get on with it, hold space for others, and do the work because it needs doing — not because they want applause.

It’s for the unsung heroes.
The people who don’t always see the full impact of what they’re doing… but who change lives all the same.

At Pineapple Support, our work is rooted in community, care, and mental wellbeing. And this award really is the heart of that. It’s our way of saying: we see you — and we appreciate the hell out of you.

This year’s recipient is, without question, a canny lad.

And I can say that with confidence — because I’ve known him for eight years. Long enough to know that what you see is exactly what you get. The depth of his character, his integrity, and his care for people isn’t performative — it’s who he is, day in and day out.

He also happens to be from the same hometown as me — which means two things.
One: clearly that place produces excellent humans.
And two: I know full well he’ll probably cringe at this entire speech… which honestly makes it even better.

Through Grooby, he has created something incredibly special — a space where trans creators are not just included, but centred.
A space that is accessible, welcoming all shapes, sizes, identities, and experiences.
A space built on genuine acceptance, not gatekeeping.

He also hosts The T’s — a platform that ensures trans creators are seen, celebrated, and recognised for their achievements. Not as an afterthought. Not as a token. But as the talented, powerful individuals they are.

And right now — when the trans community is facing relentless discrimination, abuse, and fear — spaces like this aren’t just important. They’re essential. They’re lifelines. They remind people that they belong, exactly as they are.

He doesn’t do this work for praise.
He doesn’t do it for attention.
He does it because it’s right — and because everyone deserves dignity, safety, and representation.

So tonight, we’re shining a well-deserved spotlight on someone who has been a constant source of safety, visibility, and care — even when it hasn’t been easy.

Thank you, Steven Grooby,
for your heart, your honesty, and your unwavering commitment to community.

You are a beacon of light — even if you’ll pretend this doesn’t apply to you.