BUT I’D REALLY LIKE TO THANK ...

WE’RE all used to the Oscar night acceptance speeches: 45 seconds of blather thanking everyone in sight before the orchestra kicks in telling the winner to get off stage.

Wouldn’t we all like to know what’s really going on inside their heads?

Are they thinking of how far they have come since growing up on an Iowa farm with no running water? Or maybe dredging up painful memories of having to live without a personal assistant while playing a “Star Trek” extra?

Here’s a guide to what a typical Academy Award winner is really thinking while a billion people hang on every word:

Thank you. Thank you. Please. ... You’re too kind.

(Keep it up.)

I want to thank the members of the academy. ...

(Who voted for me.)

I stand here in awe of my fellow actors. I truly hated being forced to compete against you. ...

(Especially when my performance was so much better.)

When I was a boy, I watched Orson Welles in a movie called “Citizen Kane.” I sat in a darkened theater and, as the curtain opened, decided this was my calling.

(Actually, it was Lee Marvin in “The Dirty Dozen.” I only majored in drama because I flunked chemistry. “Citizen Kane” was on cable the other night, but I fell asleep before finding out what Rosebud meant.)

I want to thank everyone at the studio, especially Frank, Rhonda, Ray, Bob, Suzy, Paul, Amy, Richard, Joel, Michael -- you’re the best, Patrick and Carol.

(It took a lot for me to mention the marketing guy because he’s such a jerk. I hope naming the studio chief is enough to get me cast in the “Aquaman” franchise. I mentioned the unit publicist because she’s cute.)

The writers -- Ralph, Sarah, Henry, Joseph and Mary. From the day I got your script in the mail I knew this was the best work I had ever read. I couldn’t put it down.

(Unfortunately, I was only a third of the way through when I accidentally dropped it in the Jacuzzi.)

My agent, Robbie, who always has my back.

(Double my quote or you’re history.)

My manager, Roger, my publicist, Gretchen, and my lawyer, Andrew.

(Resolution for 2006: Cut down on my overhead.)

My fellow cast members ...

(Except for the two who got better parking spots than I did.)

John, my director, you are a creative genius. You are a force of nature. You are an actor’s filmmaker.

(Even I’m getting sick to my stomach listening to myself.)

The producers of the film: Rich, Ben, Kelly, Kate, Donna, Larry, Megan, Dave, Geoff, Robert, Rolf, Andres, Jen, Malcolm and Eddie.

(I think I’ve only met Larry and Jen, although it’s possible I met Ben at the wrap party. Is Rolf that guy who found the German motorcycle parts company dumb enough to put up $23 million for Bavarian cable rights?)

I’m so nervous. I hope I’m not forgetting anyone.

(This gives me cover at the Vanity Fair party when that idiot in business affairs -- Stewart Something -- asks why I didn’t mention him.)

I especially want to thank our crew, the people behind the scenes without whom this movie wouldn’t have gotten made.

(This makes me look like a regular guy who makes small talk at the craft services table, rather than the prima donna that I am. Fortunately, I got to stay in my trailer all day playing the Xbox 360 the studio bought me.)

Let me thank my parents for believing in me.

(As an only child, they had no choice.)

Finally, I want to give a special thanks to the real inspiration in my life, my family -- my wife, Sharon, and my wonderful children, Kyle and Ashleigh.

(Is it two or three kids? I can never remember.)

James Bates is deputy entertainment editor of the Los Angeles Times. His Behind the Screens column appears every Monday at TheEnvelope.com