Tuesday, 3 November 2009

The borderline anti-climax of the interactive excitement, in which interactivity eats itself, and some people get to eat prize-winning biscuits

You may recall that several weeks ago, on these very screens, I set a thrilling mystery object competition.

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:


Chris Addison said...

Now, I'm fairly sure that in your line of work, as I understand it, you may well already be aware of the following, but when I was told I clapped my hands in an odd combination of glee and contempt and I think the very least I can do here is to offer you and your loyal readers the opportunity to do the same. Here is the aforementioned following:

The caption to your packing illustration indicates the biscuits used therein are 'stunt biscuits'. This is an Actual Industry Term used in... well, used in an industry. Can you guess which one? Is it movie catering? Gregg's Training Academy? Weightwatchers Electo-aversion Therapy course? No, it is, of course, advertising.

Someone whom you might not expect to have delved into that world told me that when they directed an advert for some tea, all the shots, lighting and what have you were set up using what everyone on the shoot was referring to as 'stunt biscuits'. Come the moment at which they were ready to, as they say, 'go for a take' a woman removed them. "What are you doing?" inquired my friend. The woman seemed puzzled, apparently. "Well we can't use these," she said, "they're the stunt biscuits." Then she turned and shouted at a lowly member of the baked goods-wrangling department, "Bring on the hero biscuits!"

All with a straight face.

Mr. A

Miss Jones said...

Amazing. All biscuits are hero biscuits to me. Except pink wafers.

The Umbrellas of Sefibourg said...

Pink wafers are there to trick you into eating them and really, they just want to suck all the moisture out of your mouth. They are biscuit twats.

Same for Carr's Water Biscuits - except the added evil that these bastcuits (haha) openly vote Tory.