You are currently reading the words of the Oxford under 16s county shot put runner-up, 1995. Not to mention Bronze finalist in the 10-metre Hinksey Pool pyjama swim. I also was voted, by the 2003 graduating class of Cheney Upper School, the most likely to have a baby before I turned 20.

I’m basically the Van Damme of collecting awards. The Bruce Lee of graciously accepting trophies. The Jason Statham of posing for photos, while clutching the corner of an enlarged certificate.

Which is why I can say, with beneficent calm, that there is very little point in awards. At all. Oh sure, you may need certain ones – say a degree, MA or certificate of registered gas installers – to get a job. And certain ones sound impressive – winning a Guardian Student Media Award was probably the only thing that counteracted the fact that I said I would “whore myself out” during an IdeasTap job interview.

But as a measure of quality and creative success? You’d be better off dedicating your life to earning grey hairs. Or venereal diseases. At least both show you’ve had a little life experience.

This week saw the annual celebration of spanx and hairspray known as BAFTA. While there were some obvious choices –This Is England '88 for mini-series or Borgen for international programme – some of the selections appear to have been chosen using the “bite your lip while reading the list and see where the blood falls” method.

Which is absolutely fine, of course, because the whole point of awards and lists is to generate controversy, conversation and attention. So, while I can whinge that a cameo doth not a supporting actor make (Sherlock), that Frozen Planet is a metric iceberg greater than Mummifying Alan: Egypt's Last Secret, or that Fresh Meat and Friday Night Dinner are incomparably superior to Mrs Brown’s Boys – what’s the point? With awards, like one-night stands, sometimes being happy is more important than being right.

Acting ability isn’t, by any stretch of the larynx, measured by awards. James Dean’s performance in Giant lost out to Yul Brynner in The King and I, Denzel Washington in Malcolm X lost out to Al “wooo hah!” Pacino in Scent of a Woman and Mia Farrow still hasn’t won an Oscar, despite being brilliant in everything from Rosemary’s Baby to Zelig. If you want to know if you’re a good actor, don’t look to your mantelpiece: look to your audiences. Look to your directors. Look to your fellow actors. If your performance is making those people more engaged, more creative and more exciting, then you are, more than likely, acting well. 

And, while I’m here, I’ll let you in on another little secret. Exams don’t show how good you are at a subject; they show how good you are at exams. I managed to get top marks in an international relations exam at university and I can’t even remember which countries are in the EU. Our digital manager, Ben Dodds, failed IT and is now king of computers. Damien Hirst flunked his art degree. So, if you’re awaiting exam results this summer and worried that these will make or break your career then don’t. They won’t.

When it comes to exams and awards, don’t sweat it: there are far more fun things to get sweaty over.

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Upstaged: Audiences behaving badly

Illustration by Narcsville.

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