Dab that

This post needs to start with a shout out to Jess who moaned that she didn’t get a name check in my post about winning a rounders league because she was pulled in to play one game.

Today’s post is dedicated to a trip to the bingo.

This, however, isn’t a bingo hall where you expect to be the youngest person in the room. This is a boozy night bingo. There’s innuendo, dancers and cringe prizes.

The game is simple. When the number is called you mark it off your card. When you have a line you have a prize then you play for a full house. Despite the rules being simple, it wasn’t easy. After the first line was won, some people moved on to page two and were delighted to win a line. If that wasn’t bad enough, two separate people on two separate occasions on round one made that mistake. I was less than impressed.

To ensure the cheesy vibes continued to flow, round two saw the addition of a disco ball. This was quite straight forward. Certain balls led to songs being played, for example, let’s talk about sex was played when number 6 was drawn.

Simple.

However, nothing is simple and round two saw two people get a line at the same time. Obviously in life, nothing can be a draw and there can only be one winner. Naturally, a a game that would be suitable for a hen party followed. But we had our winner. Line prize this time was of some fish flops – dad I’ll let you google those and tell me if you want some for Christmas.

Breaks were had so drink refills could be purchased without running a chance of missing a game. But this is where part of my problem came. We had bad seats. The group of five of us were all sat in one long row making it a little harder for us to chat as a group so we slightly rearranged the seating to suit our needs. If anything, this should have made us more of an obstacle to get round. But it seems people aren’t that sensible. At every opportunity our table was walked into. It was not a stable position and this nudge saw drinks spilled. Getting wise to this I ensured my glass was never too full. But this wasn’t after my last page in the book was soaked through by prosecco.

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I had got on first name terms with the waitress. By that I mean, she had told us her name and I remembered it, so I asked Zoe to bring me some napkins – but as you can see from the image above it was too little too late. This was only page two of the book so more ink had bled on the last page!

The event, however, has more than one issue. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned in previous posts, but I am competitive. Unless you’re in a draw stage and you have the chance to out manoeuvre the person who also drew with you then this is a luck game.

My luck wasn’t in. In fact, no one in my group of five was lucky enough to shout out “BINGO” although, I don’t think anyone in the room actually shouted it when they had a line or a full house.

20191011_220213But that’s not to say I didn’t come close. I was only a jump and jive away from a winning ticket here. And this is where another issue arises. The game had become modern. I know my bingo calls including Boris’ den and doctors orders as well as the classic legs eleven. But these people, have made up their own including awkward tinder date and one that referenced uni debt. I don’t really know what was going on for some of them it was time for tea.

The overall grand winner did win a one night stay in Kent or Suffolk or somewhere. At this point, I wasn’t paying attention as I hadn’t won. But probably not bad for a £16 ticket and a night of booze and dabbing and the odd slightly awkward dance move.

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