Since I've managed to save my script to this day, I can reproduce my TAFF speech here:
'One of the most accepted manners of beginning a talk at a banquet seems to be to open with An Anecdote, or A Quotation, which should either be about or by a famous person, and which should preferably be funny. If it isn't, no matter -- the only function of this opener is to catch the attention of the members of the audience, who have until this point been having a good time listening to the talented speaker before you or, more enjoyable still, talking among themselves, which is what people come to speech-sessions for anyway. (That's what I came for, at any rate, and I was having a fine time until I had to interrupt myself by coming up here and booming over the microphone like a mathematics lecturer with a cold who'd misplaced his decibels.)

'Well, I'd love to start off with An Anecdote or A Quotation involving a famous person, but the trouble is that whenever I try something like that I either get the story wrong or I misquote the famous person or I forget who the story was about or the quotation by in the first place. It happened to me earlier this afternoon, as a matter of fact, when I was telling a story and I came to the punchline and it just flew away from me, completely forgotten. It's a rather dread disease which I call aphasiastic flu.

'There is one quotation I suppose I could give you accurately, however. The story goes that Louella Parsons once waxed lyrical in on of her columns, and wrote, "Oh to be in England, now that it's May." I can quote this line because of course it's a misquotation in itself, so I'm in tune with it.

'Oh to be in England, now that it's May ... or even August, the time of the world convention. Worldcons are a marvelous institution, combining as they do the most prominent features of a circus, a Roman orgy, a meeting of the National Society for Antiquarian Beekeepers (keepers of antiquarian bees, I suppose), a debate in the House of Lords, and dinner in an automat.

'Over the years they've developed a number of traditional features: the costume ball, for instance, and of course the banquet and the talk on What's Wrong with Science Fiction This Year (it's Ted White this year -- I mean he's the one who's giving the talk); and the Introduction of Notables, a sort of name-dropping session in reverse -- in this case the Names are asked to rise, and some of them, depending on what they were doing the night before, are even able to; the Ceremony of and ancient and mystical order of the Knights of St. Fantony (Not a Religious Organization); and, of course, the Business Session, where fans from all over the world gather to discuss in democratic fashion the matter of who can raise the greatest number of points-of-order.

'Oh to be in England, now that it's worldcon time ...

'And you see the most mad assortment of people at world conventions: the hurried, harried committeemen, constantly looking at their watches as though they were rushing off to a meeting with the Red Queen; the sharp-nosed editors, sniffing for new talent, and the vodka-gimlet-eyed authors in the bar; Old Guard fans sitting in corners and grumbling that science fiction hasn't been the same since G. Peyton Wertenbaker, or Polton Cross, or Kendell Foster Crossen, or Joan the Wad, depending on just how Old Guard they are; the newer fans -- the New Wave or Second Deluge or something like that -- violently agreeing with each other, like Ayn Rand acolytes discussing objectivism, full of sound and fury, simplifying everything; hucksters hawking, panelists talking, neofans gawking. And there are, somewhere around here no doubt, the inevitable Gentlemen from the Press, who want to find out where we think the flying saucers come from now that Mars has been ruled out; writers, editors and fans who have been nominated for Hugos and who wish to God I'd get this talk over with so we could get on to the presentations -- some of these nominees, in fact, may have made the trip to the convention only because they are on the ballot: tough most of the attendees have interests that are more catholic, these nominees might be called Hugonauts.

'And, I'm afraid, we have among us the inevitable TAFF representative, who in this case is me.

'Most of you know that TAFF is the Transatlantic Fan Fund, a sort of science fictional cultural exchange program that sends fans across the ocean alternately to conventions in the United States and those in England. It's a system by which fans can get to know in person other fans widely separated from them geographically -- and, to some extent, culturally. Fans from this side of the Atlantic have made such discoveries in the United States as the fact that it's big over there; that there are several other kinds of Americans besides cowboys, Chicago gangsters and Dave Kyle; that science fiction fandom over there is bewilderingly varied but uniformly hospitable to visitors; and that despite all, it's good to see Britain when they come home again. Similarly, Stateside fans have discovered in England that places are so handily close around here -- I could get to Scotland in the time it's sometimes taken me to drive across Los Angeles -- that the British aren't all Beatles, butlers or Bennett; that fandom over there is bewilderingly varied but uniformly hospitable to visitors; and that despite all, it's good to see the United States when they get home.

'This year I'm the one who got the nod to make the TAFF trip. I've been having a wonderful time, and I want to thank each and every one of you.

'And speaking of TAFF elections, we're going to have another one in the next few months ...'

.... Terry Carr (c) 1983.