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It was 10.27 on Saturday evening. Thousands of people lined the streets of Broadstairs. The torchlight parade that merrily passed them all had now come to rest at the Bandstand. The morris dancers’ sticks were still. The Hobby Horse’s hooves were silent. The warm up act had finished. Now for the main event.

This impressive procession had marked the opening of Folk Week but more importantly it paved the way for the main event. Thanet’s first ever Biscuit World Cup was drawing to a close and to herald its culmination Mark and I had prepared a spectacle befitting the tournament. It kicked off at Broadstairs station where we had Sixteen Jaffa Cakes marching seawards with lit torches. In front of them were fifteen Party Rings happily juggling each other. Fourteen malted milks rode on the back of Fourteen dwarf Friesian cows. They were leaving quite a mess all over the High Street.

Thirteen Garibaldis had constructed themselves into a replica biplane and pulled a banner saying THANET GANNET’S BISCUIT WORLD CUP 2010. They flew above Pierremont Park dropping raisins onto the happy revellers below. Twelve fig rolls worked on cleaning detail sucking up any spillages they came across. Eleven Rich Tea biscuits were riding unicycles while dressed as huntsmen. Outside the Prince Albert pub Ten Pink Wafers were getting goaded for being gay.

Nine Digestives performed a synchronised swimming spectacular in a giant coffee-cup that stood taller than the number 8 bus. The swilling cup was being pulled along by seven bekilted Ginger Nuts that performed their interpretation of Riverdance whilst they hauled. Six Bourbons had erected a high wire over the street between the Albion Hotel and Rook’s and were executing precision gymnastic moves at thirty feet. There was a five-seated bicycle being ridden backwards by five Nice biscuits. Each little biscuit was playing Le Marseillaise on an accordion.

Just outside of the Bottleneck off licence four of the most beautiful Milk Chocolate Digestives you’ve ever seen were riding in the back of a convertible VW beetle, wearing bikinis and waving at the crowds. At the corner of Victoria Parade three Chocolate Hobnobs and three Custard Creams were being loaded into a cannon. They were all still reeling from their painful exit in the semi-finals. These two weren’t just fodder in this competition they’d taken the finalists right down to the wire. Now they were to be fired out to sea, one by one, and then parachute, in formation, onto the roof of the Tartar Frigate.

And finally, at the bandstand, were two Jammie Dodgers and two Dead Fly biscuits (aka Fruit Shortcake). Alongside them two shadowy figures, steam billowing from their hands. Mark and I had travelled hundreds of miles in this competition and now, sitting only yards from our houses, we attempted to make the decision that everybody in Thanet had waited patiently for. We dunked the Jammie Dodger. It was good. We dunked the Dead Fly. It was good. The crowds fell expectantly silent. We both looked at each other and said:

“Dead Fly”.

And with that the real celebrations began and ran long into the night.

As I sit here now in my seaside palace, befittingly munching away on King biscuit (Fruit Shortcake), it has become clear that no matter how many one consumes it is quite impossible to induce a biscuit hangover. OK you may feel a little sick in the morning but I still remember what I dunked. You wont find me professing that ‘I’ll never dunk again’. So it may get a little out of hand at times but it hasn’t started to affect others has it? Well I’ve spent an entire week eating biscuits and then writing about them till the small hours. I’ve made specials journeys. Missed appointments. Skipped meals. Had trouble sleeping. Upset my tolerant wife. Set a bad example to my impressionable daughter. Spent money I shouldn’t have. Told lies. Even hidden biscuits around the house. I need to get biscuit sober. I think for my own sakes this will have to be the only Biscuit World Cup. Ever.

Step 1 – I admit I am powerless over biscuits – that my life has become unmanageable without them…