Are you man enough for these 2014 awards?

The handing out of titles and bits of shiny metal by an aged aristocrat is a tradition as decrepit and anachronistic as the monarchy itself, a dismal relic of a feudal age in which commoners cringed and bowed for favours at the feet of their betters.

Unless, of course, you've just had a letter from the Queen, in which case it's a long-overdue recognition for a lifetime of dedicated service /doing a spot of acting/sorting out that little difficulty involving the Prime Minister's second cousin, the kidnapped llama and the bag full of stolen diamonds from Zanzibar.

Sadly, while British cricket subjects are eligible to pick up a medal or two at this time of year, the rest of the global cricket fraternity is left lingering in a cold, honours-free wilderness, where no one cares whether an MBE is better than a CBE and no one has ever heard of the Sacred Order of the Sock Suspender (awarded to elderly members of the Prince of Wales household upon the occasion of their 85th birthday).

So perhaps its time to bring the magic of the honours list into our noble sport. We don't have a hereditary monarch to preside over the distribution of cricket honours, but we do have a gruff, white-haired, stately veteran who could do the job. So prepare yourselves ladies and gentlemen, for the inaugural Ian Chappell's New Year's Honours list.

Order of the Proper Hairy Lip: Mitchell Johnson, Ravindra Jadeja
Recipients are presented with a false moustache made from Jeff Thomson's chest hair (circa 1976) mounted on a brass handle to be held up in front of the face at official occasions. Announcing this year's ennobled pros, His Royal Chappellness explained the significance of the Hairy Lip and why this honour was so prestigious:

"I've always said, and no one worth listening to has ever disagreed with me, that the best cricketers have a little something extra. I'm not talking about talent, or application or nicely creased trousers. I don't care how fast a bloke can bowl or what his batting average is, if he doesn't have something big and bushy under his nose, he isn't going to make it."

Order of the Sledge: Mitchell Starc, Keiron Pollard
Recipients of this desirable award are presented with their medals (a gold disc depicting Glenn McGrath poking his finger at Ramnaresh Sarwan and inscribed with fruity Latin swearwords) after a short tirade from Rodney Marsh.

"Ah look, I'm not talking about the kind of weak-as-milk sledging that you get from the likes of Jimmy Anderson. That stuff just doesn't belong in the game. I'm talking about proper blokes running down the pitch, hurling full-blown, completely over the top, utterly futile verbal abuse at an opponent, then offering to buy them a drink in the bar afterwards, then threatening to smash the bottle over their heads in the car park."

Order of the Tantrum: Virat Kohli, Stuart Broad
The smallest of the three honours, but still reasonably important, this award comes in the form of a t-shirt depicting Dennis Lillee wearing a tiara flinging an aluminium bat at an angry Javed Miandad.

"The best cricketers, to my mind, are rebels. They don't care about reputations, they're not interested in whether Lord La-di-dah or Lady Muck might be offended. They speak their mind. Whether it's being asked to play cricket for a pittance, being served a decaf frappucino instead of a full-fat mocha, or being dissed on Twitter, this award is designed to honour those blokes who have the cojones to say, 'I've had enough, I'm not going to take it any more, I'm going to stamp my feet and hold my breath until I get my ice-cream.'"