Death Bingo

As a child, I never went to Skegness, as Cornwall was my parents holiday of choice. Skeggie (as it is affectionately known) doesn't conjure up a glamorous  image in the mind and so it was with some trepidation that the Band I am in (The Alvin Jones Band) accepted a booking there. Overnight accommodation was a must due to the fact that it is 160 miles and over three hours away by road, which is not exactly the sort of return journey you want to make at the end of a night when you've spent most of the day travelling, lugging the gear from the car to the venue, up the lift and stairs, across the hall, winding between the tables and then setting it all up before hanging around while they have the meal and speeches, playing for three hours plus and then doing the whole lot in reverse.

The Skegness Savoy

So, we were treated to a nights accommodation in a nearby hotel (The Savoy - or should that have been The Saveloy?) which was a short walk from the venue we were playing at called "Grand Central", Skeggies premier entertainment, shopping and dining complex.  This was a multi-million development, but having seen some of the interior decor I'm not sure that the currency in question was pounds...

Anyhow, a few people had reacted with a sharp intake of breath when I had told them where we were off to, but I have to confess that on arrival I was pleasantly surprised.  Yes, it's a seaside town which means that there was an abundance of Amusement Arcades, tacky gift shops and a whole string of restaurants all selling fish and chips. Yes, there is a Pleasure Beach, mini theme park, rides, a small pier and everything else that comes with the territory of being an English seaside town, which primarily seems to be all of the above with a distinct lack of warm sunshine. But it was clean and well maintained, and inhabited by possibly the friendliest people I have had the pleasure to meet. Wherever we went, nothing was too much trouble and we were accommodated every step of the way. The gig was great fun, we were well received and a grand time was had by all.  But the funniest part of this weekend was the game of what we christened "Death Bingo" (because a) we almost laughed ourselves to death watching it, and b) some of the participants looked nearly dead) that took place in the Savoy while we were waiting to go along to the Grand Central for the main event.

The "multi-million" Grand Central

We had arrived at about 4, unloaded, set our gear up and then wandered along to check in at the Savoy. With an hour or so to kill, we opted to have a drink in the hotel bar, which was empty on our arrival. However, within just a few minutes the dining room had emptied and we were joined by 20 or so ladies obviously out on a "Jolly".  They were, I would say, all in their late 70's and were very loud, but not in the "Essex Girl" sense. No, I think they were just loud because they were probably all a bit deaf and couldn't hear each other!

After a few minutes a lady who appeared to be their leader/organiser started selling Bingo cards.  She wisely avoided us, smiling and saying "'Ay oop, these Gents won't be wantin' ta play Bingo" and then proceeded to spread all of the money, markers and coins out all over the Pool table in the middle of the room.  Bang went a game then!  No chance!

Enter the bingo caller; a man in middle age with a blond quiff, baby pink V-neck jumper and a voice that made Graham Norton sound masculine.

"Ooooh, Ladies, welcome and we'll soon be starting the Bingo" he exclaimed, gesticulating wildly in all directions as he minced across the room.   "This game is a Full House game, no lines.  Off we go, can we keep the noise down please?"

The hubbub in the room failed to subside as he set up the electronic bingo machine and tried to make himself heard.  "Ladies, ladies, please, I'm about to start."  Our first number is..."

"Just a minute, 'ang on, I need me glasses an' thur in me bag over thur." said one.  "Oh, Gladys, for God's sake, yorra nightmur!" said the organiser.

"Right, are we ready now?" the caller continued. "Our first number is.... is... hang about... our first number is... Zero!"

Quizzical looks flew across the tables as the hubbub increased.  "Whaddya mean, zero, thur's no bloody zero on the card." claimed one.  "No, no, it's not working," the caller said, there must be something wrong with it."

"Get a move on!" said another.

"Ladies, please, I'm trying to start. Ok, here we go, the first number, one and three, 13.  Second number..."

"Hold on, Sue, have you gorra pen, mine's run out" said another player.

"What was the number again?" asked someone.

"Thirteen."

"Thirty?"

"No, thirteen!"Come on, ladies, keep it quiet!.


"What's the second number?"

"We haven't done the second number yet.  I'm just about to.  The second number is... four and seven, 47."

"Right, I've got my pen, what was the first number again?"

"Oh my Lord, thirteen!  Ladies, please settle down and pay attention!"

"I'm lost.  Has he called the second number?  I thought we'd just had 13."

And so on.  After a few minutes the caller did restore order and all was going well.  Then, Gladys called out "Line!"

"No, no, thur's no lines in this game, I said that."

"Oh, sorry."

The game continued for a few more minutes, until

"Line!"

"No, no, no, I've already said, thur's no lines in this game!  We said that a few minutes ago.  Full House only!"

"Oh, sorry, sorry, I was gettin' all excited as well."

"Ladies, can I please say again, it's a Full House game, thur are no lines!".

And so the game went on... and on... and on... and on, so much so that I was beginning to wonder if there were actually any numbers left.  I was thinking how funny would it be if all the numbers were called and no-one had a Full House..  and then the machine stuck on the number 24.  Despite all efforts, it would not budge.  The organiser came to the rescue.

"Ok, ok, I'll try and sort it out." she said, at which point she began fiddling with and then banging the machine.  It remained stuck on 24, then started going back through the numbers that had been called.

"15, 92, 65, 54.."

"We've 'ad all of them!" came a voice from a far table.

"Yes, I know, but I've got to go back through them all. I can't help it." said the organiser.  Groans filled the room.  "Look, look, it's simple, if we have to start again, then if he calls a number you've got then just mark it off again but if it's not marked then don't. Oooh, you know what I mean."

Well no, I don't think anyone did.  I'm still trying to fathom it out myself.  Unfortunately, at this point we had to leave but tears were streaming down our faces - to be honest you probably had to be there - and I have no idea if a) anyone actually had a clue that they were the source of our amusement, or b) whether or not they finished their game.

However, there was one final moment at breakfast the following morning that topped everything. Gladys loudly announced that she had a massive bruise on her thigh and she hadn't got a clue why.  It was the organiser who reminded her, equally loudly, that it was probably due to her antics in trying to straddle the Pool table the night before.  Gladys agreed.  It appeared to be a serious comment.

The mind boggles.