The Townend Award

(Christ, now the awards are being named after the pretentious losers who invent them)

In my attempts to engage with other bloggers on this site, I made the mistake of tagging my friend and fellow spouter of sarcastic bullshit Bradley in the Liebster Award; what followed was a total dismissal of the very notion of answering questions, and was done in such a way that a new blogging award has been formed in the image of Bradley: the Townend Award.

To quote its founder, ‘all questions must be as sarcastic and ridiculous as possible. All answers must ramble off topic’; with these simple rules in place, here is my response to Bradley’s tag.

Bradley’s Questions:

– You are walking in the woods. There’s no-one around and your phone is dead. Out of the corner of your eye you spot him … Shia LaBeouf. What do you do? – My phone is dead? My phone is dead? Gerald! He was so young, how could this have happened to him? Wait, who am I asking? Aren’t I supposed to be answering?

– You’ve just died and reached heaven, only to find out that heaven is being demolished to make way for an inter-dimensional bypass. How much regret do you feel? – You see, the strange thing is that I’ve been told my phone has died with no context or explanation, suggesting that this information is not necessary. Not only does this place the Questioner in a position of omnipotence regarding what information is given, but a position of omni-judgement of what information needs to be given.

– Your phone rings in the middle of the night. It’s a private number. You answer it. A small child is on the other end of the line asking if you can help him find his mother. How much urine is soaking your bedsheets? – None mate; got me some Pampers’ Dry Nights.

– Do you understand the true meaning of “Cheeky Nando’s”? If not, what does “Cheeky Nando’s” mean to you? – It’s interesting, therefore, that the Questioner has the final say on what information is to be given, but it is the Answerer that gives information; the Questioner only demands it. The Questioner is therefore in a dual role of power, able to determine what is the ‘correct’ information without actually having any information with which to make a judgement; the Questioner controls both the known, and the unknown, and the Answerer a mere pawn in their schemes.

– When you’re at Argos with the lads and your mate Shaun (the mighty Pot Noodle) turns and says “Eh up lads, who fancies a cheeky nanders?” and Sam chimes in with his whole “Wait up lads, I’m a proper veggie now mate. I don’t eat chicken no more.” How much do you want to batter the poor bloke? – Yesterday I realised I could play Football Manager again now that exams are over, and literally stood still in the park for five minutes with a delighted grin spreading across my face. Then I got home, jumped into Steam and lost my first three games without scoring a goal; it’s good to be back.

– Which highway actually leads to the danger zone? Have you taken a ride on it? Was it a spiritual experience? – Oft him ānhaga āre gebīdeð, / Metudes miltse, þēah þe hē mōdcearig / gerond lagulāde longe sceolde / hrēran mid hondum hrīmcealde sǣ, / wadan wræclāstas.

– What happens if there’s a traffic jam on the Highway to Hell? Or maybe hell is just one big traffic jam? Does that make the bypass a good idea now? – I’ll take the Stairway to Heaven.

– What do you want to talk about? – I don’t know, it’s not like I have 500 frakking blog posts for you to read. Lazy prick.

– Actually, I don’t care about your opinions. Does that bother you? – Sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of your questions being fundamentally pointless unless I’m here to answer them.

– Can you actually handle your nanders mate? – But what are these schemes into which the Answerer plays? Are they malevolent, or benevolent? Cruel or kind? And can these questions ever be answered in a mere blog tag?

My Questions

I am nominating but one person for this award, because getting through two Liebster Awards in a few months kinda exhausts your supply of friends on WordPress, Sam O. Bscure.

– How much wood would a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could pull out your intestines with a fishhook and lynch your pet dog with them?

– Why am I so lonely?

– Oo ee oo ah ah ting tang walla walla bing bang?

– Hwǣr cwōm mearg?

– Where are the voices coming from?

– Do you remember Skanners?

– Who aren’t you?

– Michal Bay, Mahatma Gandhi and the baby from the cover of Nirvana’s Nevermind album walk into a bar; how many dead goats are there beneath the Tower of Babel?

– How about no?

– What is your favourite suffix?


10 thoughts on “The Townend Award

  1. Why the frakstar gashitctica haven’t you nominated me you peasant!!!! (don’t kill me I haven’t had time to do the Liebster one you nominated for me I have like five IM SO ARROGANT)

    1. If you can’t do a simple Liebster Award, you’re in no way ready for the majesty that is the Townend Award. It’d be like trying to ride a unicycle without getting the stabilisers off your trike yet.

      But the phrase ‘frakstar gashitctica’ is the most wonderfully confused thing I’ve ever heard.

      1. I don’t even know how it popped into my head. I don’t even KNOW what Battlestar Galactica is or however you spell it.
        I’m sorry. I have defiled the noble Liebster. I am an unworthy peasant.

        1. You spelled it correctly, and now must watch all four seasons of it because it’s the best show ever made (at least until the midpoint of the third season).

          And you’ve also ridiculed the Townend by suggesting that one as inexperienced as yourself could attempt it. For shame.

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