Point or no point?
I think I ought to rename this blog "Things I Don't Get".
To the seemingly endless list (Jordan's relationship advice, people who wear Crocs, why nobody has realised yet that Mariah Carey is a female impersonator from Barnsley), I can now officially add Noel Edmonds. More specifically, Noel Edmonds and the teatime rollercoaster that is Deal or No Deal.
Seriously. I don't get it. I mean, the premise is simple enough; Noel Edmonds, a man so inherently bitter he makes Paul Daniels look happy with his lot, invites a endless series of hapless coach party cannon fodder to guess what's in a series of medium sized cardboard boxes. Every so often, Noel Edmonds will pretend to speak to a man on a pretend telephone. The imaginary man on the other end of the pretend telephone offers the contestant some money in exchange for not being allowed to guess what's in any more boxes. So far, so simple. And, so far as I can tell, that's just plain as far as it goes. What with the guessing, and the boxes, and all.
But no! I am wrong! Deal or No Deal is not actually a simple, mildly retarded teatime quiz show! It is mystical! Noel Edmonds, he communicates with the universe by writing things on his hand in biro! The contestants, they are not guessing! They are intuiting! They are channelling the forces within themselves! They are evolving! It's like Close Encounters with an audience of slightly grumpy pensioners!
Is it fuck. It's one person guessing what's in a box, while another person offers them money not to guess any more. No more, no less. Unless of course it is an enormous plan perpetrated by the universe that I am not included in and therefore I may not understand. I prefer not to go down that route though.
Um. Okay. Next in this rip-roaring series dissecting teatime telly, "Why Countdown is a Big Pile of Shit".
Shut up.
To the seemingly endless list (Jordan's relationship advice, people who wear Crocs, why nobody has realised yet that Mariah Carey is a female impersonator from Barnsley), I can now officially add Noel Edmonds. More specifically, Noel Edmonds and the teatime rollercoaster that is Deal or No Deal.
Seriously. I don't get it. I mean, the premise is simple enough; Noel Edmonds, a man so inherently bitter he makes Paul Daniels look happy with his lot, invites a endless series of hapless coach party cannon fodder to guess what's in a series of medium sized cardboard boxes. Every so often, Noel Edmonds will pretend to speak to a man on a pretend telephone. The imaginary man on the other end of the pretend telephone offers the contestant some money in exchange for not being allowed to guess what's in any more boxes. So far, so simple. And, so far as I can tell, that's just plain as far as it goes. What with the guessing, and the boxes, and all.
But no! I am wrong! Deal or No Deal is not actually a simple, mildly retarded teatime quiz show! It is mystical! Noel Edmonds, he communicates with the universe by writing things on his hand in biro! The contestants, they are not guessing! They are intuiting! They are channelling the forces within themselves! They are evolving! It's like Close Encounters with an audience of slightly grumpy pensioners!
Is it fuck. It's one person guessing what's in a box, while another person offers them money not to guess any more. No more, no less. Unless of course it is an enormous plan perpetrated by the universe that I am not included in and therefore I may not understand. I prefer not to go down that route though.
Um. Okay. Next in this rip-roaring series dissecting teatime telly, "Why Countdown is a Big Pile of Shit".
Shut up.
posted by surly girl at 7:10 pm
17 Comments:
Try this: http://www.webitnow.co.uk/dond.swf
It's not addictive, like some online games. It's just equally as fucking mind numbing as the tv show. Except no one gets to win any money.
I think there's a book of the show too. How can you write a book about THAT?
Well, I'm glad you clarified it, as I didn't even get *that*. Seriously, I would channel hop onto it, boggle in utter confusion at Noel and what appeared to be someone guessing what was in a box, and wait for the *point*. Admittedly I never waited long, which is why I never realised that really was it, in essence. Until now. Blimey.
You are so right, Surly.
I HATE the Edmonds (for stitching up the ratepayers (3) of Morecambe with a lead balloon Blobbyland) and hate him more than he adores himself. But I had to watch an entire programme just to see if there was anything more to it. Surely that can't be the whole show, guessing a number in a box?
Then my daughter bought me the boxed game for my birthday last Saturday. I burst into tears.
But Surly Girl you take the name of the great Noel Edmonds in vain. DOND is genius because it is so shite and makes people from council estates believe they can change their lives by just red opening boxes!
My other half thinks squirells run beneath the boxes and swap the numbers around!
Or was that Swap Shop?
And as for Noel - I still would and I could have him like "that" (clicks fingers) you know it's true - you've seen the picture!!
girl in the other room...imagine what might have happened if you had taken The Edmonds up on his offer to "take you up in his helicopter" all those years ago.
dirty girl. fifteen, my arse.
And he is only 4 foot tall.
I believe it was me that first enlightened you to the true origins of Mickey Carey, although so far, you are the only other one to see it.
I fucking HATE Countdown. It's just always felt far too much like school, although I do have it on good authority that Richard and Carol *did*.
I however, DO know what is in the box.
Every time.
'Tis Schrödinger's fucking cat!
I really hate that show (DOND) I don't know why. Countdown gives me a headache. Looking forward to your rant about that!
apparently it's available as a dvd game too. Know what I'm getting you for Christmas....
Forget the red box, I'm more interested in knowing whether there's actually coffee in that coffee cup. I've become a dab hand a at spotting when there's nothing in a cup, but I still can't work out if he's actually drinking something.
catching up!
daytime television is a wasteland here too. animal programs and household decorating mostly.
in the coffee cup? coffee with a shot,folks. i've never seen the show and i know that.
The crocs thing - simple - try a pair on. In the dark if you must! I think they're ugly yes - but ohhh they feel gorge! Then you feel proud cos they're ugly but you're wearing them for Health and they're a bit 'alternative' and you feel all brave... you have to try some on.
Then I have to say I can't deal with the Deal game. I don't trust any of them! I think that they've always got time to swap the cards over and you know that you can see a big channel under the revealers' boxes and they've got a computer swapping it as we speak!
They're nutters! They believe it! It's crap! I do not like the scary pretend banker - Noel you're fibbing! And there's not even proper tea in their mugs!
Can you imagine the guy who created this con...sitting there rubbing his hands with glee as he's convinced the nation that this is a game of skill, intrigue and guile when in reality he knows it's nothing more than a sham and he's been paid a fucking fortune to 'develop' it !!!
If everyone was made to do a basic course in statistics and probability the programme would be very dull. It is sometimes amusing to watch greed overcome basic common sense in a small brain.
hey SG, they have this same show in the States but the charming host is Howie Mandel. It must have universal appeal. Not.
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