The time has now come for prizes and further interactivity, and also for confession and atonement.
The truth is that the identity of the object remains a mystery. I have let you all down but, in my defence, I have been let down too on many sides, and those sides include The Internet Generally, with particular reference to Google Images, as well as Dulwich's upmarket kitchen utensils shop. I have asked, via email, an actual proper food journalist/chef who has been on television and everything, and who was recently full of praise for my baking skills, of which more to follow. She has not replied, which shows what a big deal I am.
In summery, the proper, actual serious competition remains unresolved. The not literally glittering organic marmalade that looks like it's been tampered with but actually hasn't will not be awarded to the one true winner just yet. This is just The Way It Is. Suck it up. It is hard to suck marmalade, but that is not what I meant. However, it is time to proffer the previously secret and never-before-mentioned Other Prizes. It is like this is the boxing tournament at the Olympics, and I'm giving out the bronze medal before the gold medal fight has taken place, only there has been no bronze-medal deciding bout, I'm just giving lots of people bronze medals because I think it might be, like, nice and stuff.
Yes, it is exactly like that.
But what are the bronze medals? Where is the further interactivity? Read on, read on.
I received several suggestions relating to the use of the object which were ingenious and brilliant, while not grounded entirely in reality, and generally Incorrect. These originators can now claim a batch of handmade chocolate and ginger biscuits which I, Miss Jones, small-fry award-winning baker of south London (NB, the biscuits are not fried), have freshly made for you, the bronze medallists. The biscuits are the bronze medals. They are round, like medals, and a bit bronze-coloured. I don't just throw these analogies together. These are the biscuits that won the prize that comprised the mystery object that initiated the competition that made the whole world sing.
Because Poundland is full of interesting things, the biscuits will be packaged in foil takeaway cartons like this:
Stunt biscuits were used in the recreation of this photo and do not resemble the actual prize.
They will not be packaged like this:
This is something that my phone camera/camera phone did that I did not ask it to, because I wasn't really concentrating, on account of the fact I was at the same time watching Siobhan who is in my choir on The F Word talking about the venison she was eating.
So, if you are the commenter named Salvador, Hel, Simmo, Frances or Holly and if you would care to, please send me an email by clicking on the Contact Me link to the left, and nominate a postal address where your biscuits can be sent. I will also send a batch to the first random reader who responds this way. Then, when you receive them, it would be totally awesome if, in return, you email me a picture of the state they arrived in, as well as the date. Thus the interactive element thrusts tirelessly forward in a ground-breaking investigation of the state of the Royal Mail, the robustness of home-made biscuits, and the suitability of takeaway-style foil cartons for transporting them. We are breaking boundaries, you and I, and the Royal Mail are breaking my biscuits, almost certainly. I will wait a couple of weeks before baking/posting because, unbelievably, not everyone is feverishly checking this blog on a daily basis.
Finally, in further baking news, here is a picture of an excellent eccles cake made by Miss W which I ate on Saturday, even though it had a plaintive little face that was looking right at me: