Saturday, 6 May 2006
Watched Deal or No Deal tonight.
If there is anyone who I must worship at the feet of
at the BAFTA's on Sunday it is the coiffured God that
is Edmonds. I have seen this programme before on week
day afternoons but they obviously save the juicy ones
for Saturday night (well, 5.30pm). Morris had got down
to two boxes, one contained £250,000, the other
£20,000; he had to decide to either take the very
generous offer of £101,000 from the banker or
gamble that his box was the one containing the ¼
mill. I have no shame in stating that I was standing
on my sofa, hands on head screaming "noooooooooooooooo"
when Morris decided he was going to go for glory and
told the banker to shove his £101,000 up his saggy
old arse. (I'd like to make it clear at this point that
I do not know the banker on an intimate level and the
state of his arse is purely a matter of conjecture).
Noel wrung every drop of exhilaration and theatre out
of the situation and even went to a commercial break
where I had the opportunity to calm myself and remember
that I was cheering on a man called "Morris";
a name I had always assumed was reserved for kiddy fiddlers
with wooden teeth. The final section of the show started
and Noel masterfully raised the atmosphere back to fever
pitch as he revealed that Maurice had been a prize 'C
U Next Tuesday' and just lost 81,000 quid. But my God
what a journey to get there, Edmonds extracting an unprecedented
amount of excitement and drama from the opening of twenty
two boxes. ('Cause obviously before Deal Or No Deal,
whenever I'd seen people on the telly open twenty two
boxes in succession it had been shit....) HEAR THE BATTLE
CRY, "NOEL FOR A BAFTA!" HOORAH!
