One of my memories of college days was sitting in my grubby little room watching the launch of a new television channel - Channel 4.
Cable and Murdoch had yet to rise from Hades and provide wall to wall sod all for the mindless and so the advent of a fourth channel was quite an event. We had been promised intelligent, ground breaking content and a new and stimulating television experience. So what was the first programme? Bloody Countdown!
I heard Stephen Fry waxing lyrical about Countdown not so long back but I'm afraid I have to differ with him on this one. It's not so much the actual show itself you understand, although I must confess I do tend to find crosswordy-type things a bit nerdy and a haven for pseudo intellectuals. No, it's the people on it, the contestants. Where the Hell do they find them?
They're all abject social losers with the inter-personal skills of a limpet. The blokes are all either latent serial killers or techno geeks who spend their spare time in their dimly lit, bed-sit, attic hovels fisting off to re-runs of Star Trek while the women are enforced virgins with a deep and abiding love of plaid and forming committees.
They are the sort of people who, as kids, used to come up to you after an exam and say "What did you get for number 3?" or "That was really easy, wasn't it?". They were the sort of kids who used to write at their desks with their free arm curled around their paper so you couldn't see their answers. They were the sort of kids who always produced notes from their mums saying that they were sensitive and opposed to competitive sport so couldn't do games or PE.......and they all had ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE OF HUMOUR WHATSOEVER.
The producers of Countdown obviously sensed that these were the sort of personality vacuums which were going to queue up to take part and so they recruited first Richard Whiteley and latterly Des O'Connor to host the show - perfect compliments.
Still, I occasionally watch Countdown. It's not that I am a masochist, nor is it that I am a secret saddo. No, I watch it for exactly the same reason that like-minded juveniles across the country watch it - for those rare and special moments when all the pomposity and nerdiness is blown to Hades by the intervention of a higher being:
"Uurrm, a consonant please Carol."
"Certainly Reg..................a................W."
"And a vowel please Carol."
"Yes...........................an................A."
"And another consonant, please."
"................................................N."
"And another consonant, Carol."
"Ok, Reg. It's...oh dear....a....................K."
"And a consonant, please."
"Ok..............................................M."
"A vowel please Carol."
"Yes, certainly Reg............an................E."
"Another vowel please."
"................................................O."
"And a consonant.
"Oh dear. Yes, ok Reg. No, I mean no Reg.........F."
"And finally a consonant, Carol."
"Here goes.......................................F."
Dum-dee-dum, deediddle, dum-dee-dum, deediddle, dum-dee-dum, deediddle, da-da, da-da, dadderly-dum - bow!!
"Ooh, ooh, pick me, pick me!! I've got a 9, Des!"
"Well done Reg. And Bernard, what have you got?"
"I've got FAME Des but I really can't see anything else.
It's just little moments like that, rare though they are, which make Countdown almost bearable.
4.2
2.7
8
1.6
0
5.9
Shaggy Blog Stories
13 comments:
so does Coutdown not go to Grantham then?
I have never seen an episode, but then I've never seen Brookie or Corrie either
I used to like Tomorrow's World
ILTV,
No, I don't suppose it had better go. It is, at least, moderately cultural and with a degree of intelligence. That's more than you can say for 99 per cent of box these days.
For no particular reason you have reminded me of the time when the vile little toad David Mellor was hosting 606 on Radio bloke. He was patronising a caller who claimed to be a fan of Charlton Mackerell Athletic or somewhere. The caller said in a innocent tone "Oh just one more thing David.... You are a fucking cunt. " Out it came before the man with the button could censor it. Smellor was lost for words. I think I snorted a large amount of lager down the wrong way. Great entertainment though. Anyway sorry for the language.
...and they all had ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE OF HUMOUR WHATSOEVER
That's not funny.
BW,
Don't worry about the language - in the case of Mellor, there is only one word in the English language which accurately describes him.
I actually heard that broadcast as well. I was left thinking "he didn't, did he? Did he just.....I'm sure he said.....Hurrah!!"
Welcome Tidalgrrrl (I think).
I don't quite get your comment but, being a cumudgeonly git, I'll assume you are taking the pee out of me. In that case, welcome indeed.
I take it that you failed the audition.
Vicus,
I don't understand that either - I'm obviously losing it.
I was merely putting forth the possibility that your failure to be seduced by Ms Vorderman was due to your not having the ability to pass the test to get onto the programme.
With this being your second failure to understand today, I should forget about bloody Mastermind as well.
Wait until Mr and Mrs comes back, I would.
Vicus,
A joke about my imminent divorce - nice touch! What next? Go on, let's hear your cancer gags?
Here's an idea. Why don't you make your comments at least slightly relevant and connected to the post, there's a good lad. They would make some kind of sense then, you see? Could you do that for me do you think, could you, hmm, hmm?
I see that your lack of a sense of humour also caused you to fail the audition as a Mike Winters impersonator for (fill in name of current talent show on the telly, I am not sure what they are called).
What a kind, sensitive and caring individual you have shown yourself to be - with Van Gogh's ear for a good joke.
Must dash - I've got to go and stitch up my sides.
There is no name for the back of the knee.
Yes there is! Mine's called Kevin.
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