The Bread Roll Awards 2012

I hate award ceremonies. Awful, boring, dull things they are. They don't work on television. Interminable speech after interminable speech, joined together by offensive or just rubbish gags by a presenter you've seen far too much of recently.

The coveted trophies

Having said that, they always seem to work written down. Nice lists to skim through. Easy to read of a Sunday. A few bits of irreverent humour chucked in for good measure.

So here you are, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. The Bread Roll Awards 2012. Pick up your baguette at the door. Feel free to disagree, but, as the Voice of the Generation, I find it inconceivable that you will be any less than 100% in accordance with me.


Hero of the Year

I could have gone for an Olympian here. You're all expecting that aren't you? Farah, maybe? I could have gone for Jess Ennis. Heck, I could even have gone completely Route One and gone for Sir Bradley Wiggins. Instead, I'm going for a bloke who, whether I'm in agreement with his politics or not, kept me totally and utterly captivated during a night in November.

I would normally only wake up in the middle of the night for the first day of the Ashes, or a family emergency, like the house burning down, or the dog beating up the cat. Yet despite not having any real political leaning, for fear of being castigated or press-ganged into one side or the other, stayed up until gone 4am to see Barack Obama claim another term in the White House. The fact I'm studying American politics is a moot point- I love the man anyway. Oozes cool, possesses stentorian tones that any orator would be proud of, and, whenever I see him in the news, find it hard not to be amazed by the dichotomy in progress that the United States possesses. One month electing a black man merely forty years after the Civil Rights movement; the next, witnessing a tragic shooting because of its reluctance to surrender a right written on a piece of paper two hundred years ago.

Hero of the Year 2012: Barack Obama
Honourable mention: Roy Hodgson (for making me support the England team again); Bradley Wiggins; Jess Ennis; Dani Harmer.

Villain of the Year

There was a time, many months ago, when multiple singers walked the earth, with their songs, and their lyrics, and their music. Each event, we'd have a different one. We might see one singer twice in a week, but we were content with that. We could smile, joke that 'cor, she's everywhere this week!', but we'd relax, safe in the knowledge that we'd see a different minstrel next week.

Sigh, she's singing again.

And then, a plague struck the Hit Parade. The crooners were struck down, one-by-one, by a deadly curse.

The curse of Emeli Sandé. Striking off her challengers, cackling evilly as she was booked for event, after event, after event.

Olympics Opening Ceremony? Yeah, I'll do that. SPOTY? Sure. Fancy a montage? Why not.

ENOUGH WITH THE SANDÉ ALREADY.

Villain of the Year 2012: Emeli Sandé
Honourable mention: Carson Yeung, the owner of Birmingham City, for slowly destroying the club; Bruce Forsyth for ruining every episode of Strictly Come Dancing; the two boys from Coventry who tried to steal the Olympic Torch; Louis Smith.

Film of the Year

I could have picked The Dark Knight Rises, with its deafening sound effects and inaudible villain. I could have picked The Hobbit, but I like my films to have a bit of narrative drive to them, rather than be a slow amble around set locations.

The best film with a tiger since Ice Age

Instead, I've picked The Life of Pi, directed by Ang Lee. I don't normally go in for film reviews- I tend to leave that to those who know what they're talking about, like my film buff housemate's blog, which is excellent.

However, The Life of Pi was simply brilliant. Having repeatedly been tempted to argue with cinema bosses over the ethics of charging an extra £2 for one 3D effect in an entire film, this film completely changed my opinion on the extra dimension. It was, aesthetically, one of the most beautiful films I've ever seen; the storyline seemed to almost pride itself on having meaning on so many different levels; and it's probably the only film I've ever stayed sat in my seat for half a minute following the conclusion trying to work out what I made of the film.

Film of the Year 2012: The Life of Pi
Honourable mention: The Artist; Skyfall, despite its outdated sexism; Coriolanus.

Single of the Year

Music is one of those things that I repeatedly try in vain to sound intelligent about, but my tastes are about as sophisticated as a takeaway kebab. Not that there's anything wrong with that- I know what I like and I like what I know.

I don't even tend to buy albums that often, but one artist has captivated my attention in recent weeks- Nottingham's Jake Bugg. I used to get depressed that Blues players were younger than me; now I'm depressed that brilliant musicians are younger; soon, it'll be politicians and policemen.

Jake Bugg- shit hair-cut, great album

Bugg's music has a folky twang to it, but doesn't grate on me to the extent that the ubiquitous Mumford & Sons do. It's more indie, and the lyrics are earthy without trying to make himself sound older than he is.

I promise I'll never write another pretentious paragraph like the one above ever again. Promise.

'Skin up a fat one, hide from the feds' is a line from the song 'Two Fingers', but the song I've chosen as Single of the Year, which is reminiscent of Johnny Cash, is 'Lightning Bolt'.

Single of the Year: Jake Bugg- Lightning Bolt
Honourable mention: Carly Rae Jepson- Call Me Maybe, for its undeniable happiness.

Sporting Event of the Year

I refuse to cop-out here and say 'The Olympics', tempting though it would be. How can you? It featured enough sport to last a lifetime. It'd be like naming 'meat' as my favourite food.

Super Saturday was, simply, an explosion of altruism and good-feeling. I had the day off from my Games making duties, so in the morning, I sat and watched the rowing on a big screen in Canary Wharf, surrounded by the wealthy, their smartly dressed children, and the imposing tower blocks.

Watching Super Saturday in the presence of some pied wagtails

And I cried. I cried when we won, I cried when we lost. I cried when I picked  up my phone to text my Mum, my sister, my Nan, my friends, to say 'did you see that?'- I cried because there should be one more name on that list.

I yelled. I yelled in agony as Worcester's Zac Purchase just came up short. I yelled for a ginger bloke doing the long-jump, despite my deep-seated hate and fear of athletics. I yelled with the young volleyballers from Sheffield staying at our camp-site when their friend and our nation's sweetheart, Jess Ennis, fulfilled our nation's hopes and dreams. I yelled, along with the rest of Great Britain, for a Somali-born chap with a smile as wide as the running track named Mohammed.

And I, for probably the first time in my life, felt what it meant to British.

Sporting Event of the Year: Super Saturday
Honourable mention: The last day of the Premier League; the Ryder Cup.

The Special Award for My Team of the Year

2012 has been the most exciting year of my life. I can't say it's been the best, because it's impossible and simplistic to rank any selection of 365 days in an order of quality.

I've been a Games maker. I've taken up dancing. I've become President of a society. I've been accepted to a Canadian university. I've had a retweet off the Daily Mirror and Danny Dichio now follows me.

I promised I wouldn't cop out of the above award, but I'm well and truly sitting on the fence with this one. Thank-you to everyone who's made it such a fantastic year.

Team of the Year: The Games makers; CAS; my housemates; anyone who's helped me improve my dancing; my hilarious followers on Twitter; the lads I went to Italy with; and essentially, anyone who's anyone.

Have a fantastic 2013.

Blog Number 4, or how I used up all my puns in the main body of the text.

You may remember how only four weeks ago I was desperate to start a blog, yet couldn't think of anything to write about. Yep, well, I'm here again. My fingers have become itchy, and as murmurs of discontent arise over whether The Bread Roll Blog will become another pointless venture that takes up a cracking title with merely one post every month, I needed to pen something. My 'blog ideas' word document wasn't exactly overflowing with ideas. It consisted of Is the World Going to End?, and the slightly less hyperbolic How I'm Making a Playlist for My Grandparents' Party. Neither offered much scope for extensive blogging.

So I had a bit of fun. I showcased some dubious punning ability, with the help of my light militia of Twitter followers- (thank-you, in particular, @TheSpecialRon), and speculated on blog ideas that, in reality, will never go further than a title. A bit like Geordie Shore should have done.

Talking Eds: I interview various people called Ed, including Miliband, Sheeran and CBBC favourite, Ed the Duck. Includes a heated discussion over why Edward Sheringham spurned his real first name in favour of ‘Teddy’ for his entire career. Confrontational.

Ed’s Up: I travel to the top of tall buildings- Blackpool Tower, the Duomo in Florence and the Spinnaker Tower in Portsmouth in order to explain their foundations and discuss the panoramic views. Potential for a Tumblr. Scenic.

The cover photo for Ed's Up

Ed, El, Weiss: I interview El Hadji Diouf and Vladimir Weiss on their respective successes and failures as footballers whilst The Sound of Music plays in the background. Specific focus on the contrast of fortunes at Bolton Wanderers. Glum.

Ed, Ding, For Glory: I team up with Chinese snooker player Ding Junhui as we try our hands at various sports in order to become the best in the world. Features regular misunderstandings over language barrier. Riotous. 

Ed’s UK shun: Elaborating further on my Year Abroad blog, I discuss why I’m looking forward to ignoring the teaching methods of the United Kingdom and all it has to offer for the next year. Jingoistic.

Ed’s Tart: A double-header! Focussing firstly on the latest culinary delight to leave my kitchen; and latterly which scantily-clad girl I’ve seen wandering round Leamington Spa recently following a night out. Cheeky.

Higgs Bows-on: A series of photos of myself adorned with frills and bows, accompanied by a selection of pithy captions. Not suitable for work or for those of a nervous disposition. Saucy.

So we've established there is fairly unlimited potential for blogs that surround my name. I'm sure you'll agree there are some cracking ideas up there. Feel free to use any of them. A word of warning: they may not work if your name isn't Ed.

Keep bread-rolling!