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Why I Love...late-night quiz shows

Presenters of The Mint
  • Posted at 5:16am
  • 15 March 2007
  • by RhodriMarsden-RT

TV bigwigs have tried various ruses over the years to fill up the British night-time schedules.

Footage from provincial nightclubs of underdressed gyrating teens, live coverage of mind-bending American sports, Prisoner Cell Block H - they've all failed to sustain the interest of that very unique demographic, a curious mixture of drunkards, insomniacs and warehouse security staff. But recently, a winning idea has been hit upon: quiz night.

Whether it's called Quiz Call, iPlay, The Mint, Cash Call or any number of variants on the theme, the concept is identical: a four/five hour show, presented by a valiant but foolhardy young TV hopeful, which solicits answers from the viewers to often unanswerable questions via a premium-rate phone line, with the promise of big cash prizes.

Everyone's a winner: the TV channels fill up the dead time, they make a bit of money, the public have their chance to show off their errant wisdom, and we, the viewers, have the chance to experience some mesmeric broadcasting.

Firstly, consider the poor presenters. Keeping up the bubbly, outgoing demeanour that got them through their audition for five long hours is a big ask.

In the first hour, all is well. Viewing figures are high, fatigue levels are low; they can keep up the banter that persuades us to pick up the telephone and answer such conundrums as "Name a film with the word 'man' in the title!"

While they smile beningly into the camera, with a soundtrack of money jangling, crowds cheering, or a persistent tick-tocking that makes the theme to Countdown sound like Rachmaninov, the phone lines are jammed and guesses are put through to the studio every minute or so.

Fast-forward to 4am, however, and things are quite different. Consider this transcript of one presenter, Sara, from a recent broadcast of Cash Call. "Is anyone actually watching me right now, or am I just sitting here talking to myself? They made a doll? Doll. Dull? Doll. I'm not very good at pronouncing 'l's, cos I grew up in Redhill. 'Ell.' Doll. When I say 'doll'? How d'you say 'doll'? Doll. A doll. Red lolly, yellow lolly, red lolly, yellow lolly. Get a grip, Sara." You feel that wide-eyed, manic laughter is never far away. It's gripping stuff.

And what of the punters? Confronted with the Blankety Blank-style question of, say, "Hand_____?" the obvious answers - stand, lotion - are quickly succeeded by the slightly more surreal - kerchief, yman - and we end up with the kind of bizarre stabs in the dark that made Family Fortunes a cult hit.

"We have Jim from Bexleyheath on the line. OK, Jim, let's have your answer, it's hand..?" "Er, geometry?" "Hand geometry? An interesting answer, Jim, let's see if it's there? No. Better luck next time!"

We, of course, hope fervently that Jim has another go. He, along with his fellow post-pub challengees, provide us with night-time mirth for the fraction of the cost of showing us Live Comedy from Jongleurs. Long term it's probably a worrying trend, but for now, I'm delighted to embrace it. Now. Hand..? ?some? Handsome. Surely it's a winner. Pass me the phone? Ta.

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