The members of the audience entered at various speeds. A party later to be identified as the St Richard’s Church Youth Club scuttered in on a cloud of giggles. A works rugby club, who had met for a few jars in the pub beforehand, thumped noisily down the stairs to their seats. A Senior Citizens’ Day Group wheezed in arthritically with much clattering of sticks. Once seated, they all decided they needed to go to the lavatory before the recording started, and wheezed out again. Some of the rugby club members also went off to lose a few pints.
Charles was only partly aware of these commotions. He kept his eyes firmly on the set. At one point Sydnee flashed round the corner of it. She gave him a quick grin and a thumbs-up before going back to calm the nerves of her shepherd, metallurgist, coach-driver and vicar.
Sharp at half-past seven, when most of the audience were back from the lavatories (though some of the Senior Citizens’ Day Group were still waiting in the queue that had built up in the Ladies), Charlie Hook bounced on stage, picked up a microphone and started to tell them all how lovely they were.
It was a lovely show they were going to see, too, he assured them. Indeed, everything was lovely. He welcomed a few lovely parties, exchanged a few lovely innuendoes with the rugby club and indulged in a little lovely banter with one lovely Senior Citizen making her way back from the Ladies.
Then, on a ‘speed-it-up’ signal from the Floor Manager, he moved on to the introductions. ‘And our host for tonight’s show is a really lovely feller — somebody you all know and love from your television screen as Mr Joe Soap — well, here he is tonight without the Joe — and without the soap either. . ladies and gentlemen, give a lovely warm round of applause to. . Mr — Bob — Garston!’
A lovely warm round of applause was duly given, as the show’s new host strode on, oozing common touch from every pore. He grinned ruggedly at the audience and exchanged a few gritty pleasantries with them.
He gave a brief outline of what the game was about, but said it was basically very simple and they’d have no problem picking it up as they went along. Then he distributed accolades to the ‘boffins in the back-room’, without whom the show would not be possible. He praised the humour of Jim Trace-Smith and the organizing skill of John Mantle, before moving on to introduce ‘tonight’s celebrity panel’.
Charles tensed as they came on and sat in their appointed seats. Nick Jeffries shadow-boxed at the audience, much to their delight. Fiona Wakeford simpered at them, which they found equally rewarding. Joanie Bruton marched on, looking sensible, bright, but nonetheless feminine (and many of the female Senior Citizens turned to each other to comment on how sensible, bright, but nonetheless feminine she was). George Birkitt came on grinning and gave a wave, secure in the familiarity of his television face.
Bob Garston then introduced ‘the plucky foursome who, believe it or not, have actually volunteered to take part in this circus’, and the contestants, propelled by the unseen hand of Chita, came blinking on to the set.
In the Gallery, Aaron Greenberg looked at Dirk van Henke, then, accusingly, at John Mantle. ‘About as much “pazazz” as a wet noodle,’ he grumbled.
John Mantle smiled evenly.
It was nearly seven forty-five. The lovely Nikki and the lovely Linzi, after final checks at the straps of their bikinis, took up their positions by the prizes. The Senior Floor Manager stepped forward to tell Bob Garston to wind it up and get ready to record. Charlie Hook instructed the audience to wait for an applause cue from him and to watch the opening credits on the monitors above their heads.
The clock for the beginning of Part One appeared in shot. The one-minute countdown began.
Twenty-five seconds in, Nick Jeffries started waving in distress.
He had gone to have a drink from his red-and-blue-striped glass and discovered it to be empty.
The Senior Floor Manager looked annoyed at the delay. Charlie Hook came forward to reassure the audience that they were still lovely. A hustled-looking Floor Manager came on to the set with a jug on a tray. He poured liquid into the four celebrities’ glasses, then crossed to the lectern and filled Bob Garston’s. The remains of his jugful went into the carafe.
He scurried off and the Senior Floor Manager bustled forward for the restart of the recording. They must get moving, he insisted, they were wasting time. No more breaks, please. Must get on with it.
He got the message that the video-recording was stable, and the clock once again appeared on the monitors. This time it ran the full minute, disappearing just before the animated credits and music began.
Charles Paris stared across at the celebrities’ desk. The concentration made his eyes hurt.
Nick Jeffries, who had been the one who wanted a drink, took a swig from his glass. Charles noted his expression with satisfaction.
Good old Sydnee. She’d done her stuff, all right.
The prizes for the second pilot were a gas-fired barbecue, over which the lovely Nikki draped herself lasciviously, a week’s holiday for two in Eilat, and the Austin Metro (which Tim Dyer reckoned should by rights be his), from which the lovely Linzi once again waved. The audience oohed and aahed and applauded appropriately.
While the credits were running, Joanie Bruton took a sip from her red-and-blue-striped glass. Charles Paris noted her reaction.
Bob Garston introduced the celebrities with suitable jocularity. George Birkitt tried to launch into his joke about a rock-star having a haircut, but was cut short by the smiling host. Disgruntled, the actor took a drink from his glass. Though it was not relevant to his enquiry, Charles Paris noted George Birkitt’s expression.
The shepherd, the metallurgist, the coach-driver and the vicar all came on wearing inappropriate hats. With celebrity help (and, in Aaron Greenberg’s view, with total lack of ‘pazazz’), the contestants changed the hats round. Three of them identified the metallurgist as a vicar. It was all very riotous. At the end of Round One, one contestant was eliminated, but she didn’t go away empty-handed — no, she took with her a lovely If The Cap Fits cap!
The lovely Nikki and the lovely Linzi brought on the hat-boxes for Round Two. The three survivors made their guesses, and another member of the public was put out of contention. But of course he had won himself some money — not to mention his If The Cap Fits cap!
It was the End of Part One. None of the celebrities left the set while Charlie Hook re-emphasised the loveliness of the audience and explained that the Director would have to take some cutaway shots of the eliminated contestants.
Two celebrities had still to touch their red-and-blue striped glasses.
In Round Three the remaining contestants picked out of the box respectively a Roman helmet and a baseball cap. This meant that they had to answer questions on History and Sport. The first, clearly a man of no judgement but with an eye for a pretty girl, chose Fiona Wakeford to help him on History. The second, slightly shrewder, selected Nick Jeffries as his adviser on Sport.
When her protege had been eliminated and while he was being told about his If The Cap Fits cap, Fiona Wakeford returned to her seat. She sat down and took a drink from her glass. Charles Paris noted her reaction.
There was now only one contestant left and it was time for the Hats In The Ring finale, with a chance to win the Super-Duper prize — a brand-new Austin Metro, complete with tax, insurance and a year’s supply of petrol!
‘Ooh!’ sighed the audience, barely able to contain themselves (in fact, completely unable to contain themselves in the case of two of the Senior Citizens, who once again set off noisily for the Ladies).
The surviving contestant stood in the middle of Sylvian de Beaune’s red wheel, while Bob Garston explained to her what was to happen.