The Bingo Hall

So, the bingo then.

I shouldn’t really complain about our posh Auntie Phyllis taking us on a pseudo day trip which turned into an excuse for marathon bingo because,

well,

its like this see,

The current wife and I had our first date, those 29 years ago, almost to the week,

at the bingo.

There, I’ve said it, its out in the open now, these 29 years have been a nightmare trying to keep a lid on that little factoid, but its true, our first date was at the Spanish City bingo hall, Whitley Bay, sad but true, I’d like to say it was her idea but it was mine, I was desperate for the date, what can I say, we worked int he same office, she mentioned that she was a member at the Spanish City bingo hall and I chirped up “Oh so am I”, as blatant a lie as anyone ever told for I knew nothing of the rules of the game.

She agreed that we should go together that very night, the plan falling apart even as we approached the front door for standing out there on the pavement with all the old ladies waiting to go in I realised with horror that you had to be a member in order to gain entry, and there was a man on the door checking all the old biddies membership cards.

“Do you have a membership card” I asked of my first date but soon to be everlasting wife
“Why yes of course” she replied, “and here it is”
“Well I’ve forgotten mine” I lied again
“You won’t get in without it” she informed
“Then I shall have to join again” I responded, still lying

There is a moment during every lie when you hold your head in your hands and scream inwardly “Why am I doing this” and that was one of those moments, it would have been so easy to feign annoyance at having “forgotten” my membership card and then nonchalantly suggested a beer in a pub instead but thus is hindsight, and its twenty twenty hindsight, I had no such means at my disposal and so I stood on the doorstep of the Spanish City bingo hall and declared that I wished to join as a member and I paid my money and lo, I was that member, official and everything.

The lie unravelled some more when we wandered inside, me sneakily hanging back so as to follow Suzanne as I had not the first idea of where we were going or what we were to do, we arrived at the table where they sell the bingo tickets, I took out my money,

“One ticket each please” I proudly stated and the sniggers around me emphasised my faux-pas
“I usually play six cards” Suzanne proclaimed
“Then six for her and one for me” I resolved, and we went and sat down.

Everyone in the room was playing at least six cards, how the hell they do that I’ll never know, it took me all of the one second between each number call to work out whether I had the last number on my card and also whether or not I had a line or a full card yet and are we playing for just a line this time or what ?

I hadn’t a clue.

At some point Suzanne finally declared “You’ve never played bingo before have you ?”
“Bingo ?” I exclaimed, “I meant snooker”

And now a bingo joke of my fathers acquaintance, he told me this just before Ned got married, suggested that I use it in my best mans speech, HIV being the burning topic of that year, you won’t be surprised that I didn’t bother using it…

So theres this bloke and he goes to the doctor
The doctor examines him and tells him he has bad news, he has got HIV, AIDS, he’s going to die because its even worse, he has a virulent strain of the virus called HIV214, he’s a goner, two weeks tops.
The bloke is devastated, he wanders down the street afterwards wondering how he could be so unlucky, HIV214, this is terrible news, two weeks, how much worse could thing get ?

And just so that the joke can evolve properly he wanders into a bingo hall, buys some tickets and sits down, plays the first game in a daze, he wins the first line for £20, then he wins the house for £50.

HIV214, how despondent can a man be ?

He wins the next house, and the one after that, in fact he wins all of the prize money on offer, still he is inconsolable, he’s going to die in two weeks time.

And then its the big national link-up game for £100,000 and he goes and wins that and still he’s not bothered and the manager gets him up on the stage and in front of the audience he hands over the cheque and the rest of his prizes,

“You’ve won all the games tonight and you’ve just won the national link up game, you must be the luckiest man in the world” he declares

And the bloke finally explodes with rage, “luckiest man in the world ?” he cries “I’m going to die, I’ve only got two weeks left to live, I’m HIV214″

“You’re what?” says the manager in shock

“I’m bloody HIV214″ he cries

“Fooking hell” stammers the bingo hall manager consulting his clipboard, “You’ve won the bloody raffle as well”