Co. Down Nut.

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.