mostly david ephgrave

I know I’ve written about the survey results on the game show Pointless with incredulity on more than one occasion in the past, but it keeps presenting me with ridiculous new material. Today, on a round about the NHS, a total of twelve people out of the hundred surveyed didn’t know what those three initials stand for, because we now apparently live on a planet where, if someone doesn’t know the answer to a question, they can’t possibly attempt to employ a little lateral thought. What's worrying about these questions is the amount of people who don’t know the answer is often staggering. Without wishing to sound like an old man (which is clearly about to happen) I sometimes wonder where education began to fall short; there are some things you should just know without remembering where you picked the information up from. I’m pretty sure I always knew NHS stood for the National Health Service - and even if I didn’t, I’d be able to work it out; where...

One of the contestants on today's episode of Pointless complained she had no spare time because she was busy planning her wedding. I found this ironic, as I was in the queue to watch a recording of the show when I booked mine.  This sounds like a lie.  It isn't. I didn't do it on a whim. There was a bit of forward-planning. I popped the question to my girlfriend a few days before. We decided we wanted get married the same year, and to book a date before we told people, to make it tangible. So it was that I found myself on the phone to Marylebone Register Office whilst in line outside Elstree Studios, waiting to watch my favourite early evening game show.  It wasn't the best time to make the call, if I'm honest. I hadn't thought it through. The people at the register office were very helpful and offered me a few dates, but told me that a Registrar would have to speak to me before anything could be confirmed. They said I should expect a phone call within t...

Imagine one of The Eggheads giving you a hug. It would be cold, emotionless and terrifying. The cuddle would have an alarming functionality. It would also be a good opportunity to check whether they have a pulse. They don’t strike me as a particularly tactile bunch. Why waste time showing affection that could be spent spouting trivia? Not to spice up conversation, but to show superiority.   Picture an Eggheads dinner party, with each one vying for attention. You’d spend the duration in fear of being shot down or corrected. The atmosphere could be cut with a knife. The show revolves around a depressingly stark concept. The Eggheads presumably get the same fee whether they win or not. The Challengers only get money if they beat them. All under the helm of a constantly fluctuating host. The presenter being determined by whether Jeremy Vine or Dermot Murnaghan is less pissed on any given night.  (I once wrote a tweet to that effect that was favourited by Vine himself...

One thing The Crystal Maze proved is that it's never easy to complete a task with a group of people watching from a window, shouting dubious advice. Appearing on the show must have been an exercise in patience. I would have been just seconds into my first game before screaming at the other contestants to 'SHUT THE FUCK UP'. Either that, or I'd have crouched in the corner, sobbing uncontrollably. Completing a brainteaser is never simplified with an audience, particularly one that insists on stating the bleeding obvious. It’s worse when you know that no-one had met before filming. They're not friends egging each other on, but strangers, hell-bent on securing an adventure holiday. It’s survival of the fittest. Weak links had to be sniffed out quickly. (Did the winners all go on holiday together? Imagine the awkwardness.) All that unhelpful shouting must have made it difficult to concentrate. You’d also have to blank out Richard O’Brien’s harmon...

Watching tonight’s episode of the BBC1 game show Pointless led me to mull over a question I’ve been pondering for ages: why does the studio audience always clap and cheer when Alexander Armstrong reads out the jackpot?  Surely no-one finds big digits that exciting. I've never cheered spontaneously after giving out my phone number. If I’m honest, I know the answer: it’s because the floor manager tells them to. It’s supposed to add a little tension to proceedings. Being aware of this doesn’t make it any less irritating; once you notice it, it quickly starts to grate. It’s not like everybody in the audience has a vested interest; they can’t all be related to the contestants. I could understand it if the prize was evenly divvied out. They’re also not actually applauding anything. It’s not as if the money is sitting somewhere, waiting to be collected. The sum total only exists from the moment somebody wins it. Richard Osman hasn’t got a...

I often watch reruns of Bullseye on Challenge - and it will no doubt offer an insight into my pessimistic nature, if I tell what I think when they cut to the studio audience. The crowd is always awash with the elderly. When the camera swings around to reveal a sea of geriatric faces, I think to myself of how they must now be long dead. Maybe I’m being overly presumptuous. The odds are certainly stacked in my favour. The show originally aired between 1981-1995; anyone in their twilight years during that fourteen year period will almost certainly have gone to that great big game show in the sky. In a way, these repeats stand as a small tribute. One thing's for certain: I bet that everyone concerned had a lovely day.