[alli55]

Maddie goes back in, and, after Phil’s finished putting the garden chairs back in the shed, we follow suit. As we head for the living room, two hands place themselves on my bum, and I feel them give it a gentle squeeze.

“What did I do right, to end up with a cracker like you?!” Phil murmurs in my ear.

“Don’t you remember?” I tease.

He chuckles, and replies, “I thought that came after!”

“You naughty man!” I reproach him, playfully. We enter the living room, where Lissie is sprawled across the floor, her head supported by her hands which are resting on a pillow she’s brought down from upstairs. Maddie sits in ‘her’ chair, as Phil and I plop ourselves down on the sofa. I look down and can see Lissie’s foot wiggling frantically. It’s the giveaway sign that tells me she really is super-excited!

I move a little closer to Phil, as we sit together, waiting for the start of Gemma’s TV show, wishing to continue the closeness we had been sharing before Maddie dragged us in from the garden. He responds when I snuggle against him, placing his arm around my back and giving my side a gentle squeeze. I notice Maddie roll her eyes as she spots us cuddling. Lissie is too focussed on the TV screen to take interest in anything else, her foot still wiggling away! Maddie returns her attention to the TV, as I place my hand in Phil’s.

“Seriously, Emma,” he whispers, “how is it that I’m going flabby and grey, and you’re still as drop-dead gorgeous as you were when we were going out together?”

“Because I’m careful about what I eat, and I actually go out and take a walk at lunchtime, unlike some people I know!” I tell him. Which is all true; but I think, really, I’ve just got lucky in life’s gene lottery, and held onto the lovely honey-brown hue of my hair longer than maybe I should have, by rights! The diet and exercise help keep me slimmer than I would otherwise be, and also keep Phil’s favourite part of me firm and peachy!

He is about to comment but is interrupted when our attention is grabbed by the continuity announcer’s voice.

“And now, on Channel 4, I dare you to watch our brand-new show for the audacious at heart, Britain’s Most Daring. Viewers of a nervous disposition, well, just hold tight!”

The opening titles for Channel 4’s new edgy gameshow flash across the screen, promising hints of what might be to come. As the titles end and the music fades, the two presenters step forward. Typically of Channel 4, the show is being fronted by two TV newcomers, plucked from obscurity to give the show the desired freshness. They are both young, and dressed casually with just a hint of allure, particularly on the part of the female presenter.

She is blonde, blue-eyed, mid-20s, and a little shorter than her male co-host, and would be more so without her heels. She’s wearing a dark sleeveless top and a pencil skirt that sits on her knees. The top has a plunging neckline, that reveals enough skin to indicate that her bust is in proportion with her slim figure. She has a large mole on her upper right arm that, unusually, the show’s make-up people haven’t tried to cover up. Her legs are shapely, and her lightly-freckled face is framed by her shoulder-length hair and filled by a broad smile.

Beside her stands a slim man, about the same age, with tousled dark hair and a well-tanned face. He is toned but shows no noticeable muscles either on his torso or his arms. His eyes are quite deep-set, but sparkle as he smiles, their slight green colour giving him a distinctive appearance. He is clean-shaven, having rejected the current trend for facial hair, a decision that, on reflection, probably fits his face’s shape better than a beard would have done. He is wearing a cream-coloured polo shirt and slightly-worn skinny jeans. It’s a look that suits the edginess of the show well, which, undoubtedly, is why the costume manager chose it for him.

Again, with it being a Channel 4 show, the long-standing, unwritten TV rule about how a male-female host-pairing works best is deliberately being broken. On this show, the woman is the lead presenter. Both she and her co-host appear slightly nervous, which is understandable given that this is their first appearance on national TV. But they have both been through a rigorous selection procedure and have shown themselves to be more than capable of hosting the show together.

“Hello, …” she begins, “… hello, …”. Three times she starts her sentence, but each time has to pause whilst the audience continue to applaud enthusiastically. As the cheering and clapping finally die down, she is able to carry on.

“Hello …, and welcome to Britain’s Most Daring, with me Trixie Stonehill, …”

“… And me, Joe Denecker,” her co-host says. It is immediately very obvious that he hails from Newcastle-upon-Tyne or somewhere close-by.

“Have we heard of him?” I ask. “He’s obviously from round here!”

“Ssshhh!” instructs Lissie.

“This is the show where we challenge people to go past their limits and do things they wouldn’t normally dream of, as we attempt to find the person who is Britain’s Most Daring,” Trixie enthuses. Her voice gives little away as to which part of the UK she hails from, with her perfectly presentable and pleasant-sounding standard English verbalisation contrasting well with Joe’s broad Geordie accent.

“It’s the show that does what it says on the tin!” quips Joe.

Trixie continues to introduce the show’s concept to the watching public. “Each week our daredevils will be given a new dare to complete, and failure is not an option if they want to be crowned Britain’s Most Daring! Is it Joe?”

“It most certainly isn’t!” Joe agrees. “On this show, if you flop you’re dropped!”

“That’s right,” explains Trixie, “every week we’ll say goodbye to the person who least impresses with their dare attempt until we whittle it all the way down to the last one standing: Britain’s Most Daring.”

The script has clearly been written to imprint the show’s title onto the viewers’ minds at the earliest opportunity.

“We wanted to give you, the great British public, every possible chance to take up our challenge and be hailed Britain’s Most Daring,” Trixie continues, “so we took our team out and about across the length and breadth of these isles to let you come and show us how daring you were.”

She turns her head to Joe as he takes up the story. “Yes, we divided the country into 10 regions, and held auditions in each region. Each of wor regional winners will take their place on these chairs right here.” He indicates to three rows of chairs. Puzzlingly, there are five chairs in each row.

“Now,” Trixie takes over once more, “the more observant of you may well have noticed that there are more than 10 chairs! That’s because, as well as our regional winners, we have our 5 ‘wonderful wildcards’. These are five people, who aren’t regional winners, but who we wanted to join us on the show anyway, because we were so wowed by their performance and personality.”

“They’re like wor own ‘w.w.w.’,” Joe adds, “wor ‘wonderful wildcard wowwers’!” It is already clear that Joe is going to be providing the show’s comedy element, as he is coming across as the cheeky-chappie type, whilst Trixie appears to be taking things a little more seriously.

Trixie gives just the hint of a smirk, before moving on. “So, let’s get going on our very own Tour of Britain! Where are we heading first, Joe?”

“We’re off to the North-West, home of the mad Mancunians and loopy Liverpudlians!” he tells her and the viewers. “We should be able to find plenty of people crazy enough to try wor dares in that neck of woods! Let’s go over to Lisa and find out!”

A buxom blonde, another twenty-something, with a round face, appears on the screen, standing outside a warehouse-type building that is obviously the venue for the North-West regional auditions. She’s wearing a figure-hugging light-blue roll-neck jumper and skinny jeans, and has her long hair tied back in a tight ponytail. A queue of wannabe daredevils snakes away from the doors just behind her.

“Hello, and welcome to Manchester, or as we prefer it, Madchester!” Lisa begins. On cue the wannabes cheer wildly, throwing their arms in the air and leaping about. “As you can see, they’re very much up for it, so let’s go inside!” Lisa continues, over the background noise. It is pleasing to note that, judging by her accent, the producers have picked a local Manchester lass to preside over the auditions in her city.

The scene changes to the entrance lobby of the building. Lisa speaks into camera once more.

“Before we let them in properly, we’ve given them a test of nerve!” she explains. “Our very own Ice Bucket Challenge. Obviously, they didn’t know anything about this beforehand, so they haven’t come prepared! Only those who are willing to get a soaking will be allowed in!”

There follows a montage of people being drenched with buckets of ice-cold water, interspersed with the occasional one refusing and walking away. The reactions of the victims vary, but shrieks from the women and gasps from the men are most common as the iciness hits them. One man dramatically overreacts when the freezing water soaks him, running around in circles like a complete maniac, crying, “Oh my God! Oh my God! So cold!” The montage concludes with a young, dark-haired girl, drenched from head to foot, who looks into the camera and states, “Just a normal day in Manchester!”, grinning from ear to ear.

“Once they were in, we gave them a cosy bath-robe each and sent them off to the changing rooms,” Lisa reveals, when the montage ends. “We’re not completely heartless, you know!”

The scene changes again, as we move into a large hall with rows of tables and chairs.

“Well, they’ve dried off, so it’s time for some lunch! And what better way to warm up than with a traditional Lancashire Hotpot!” Lisa pauses and grins at the camera. “Only we didn’t have time to cook it! So, it’s more like a Lancashire Not-Hotpot!”

Another montage follows as the wannabes attempt to eat the mess confronting them on their plates. The pieces of raw carrot aren’t a problem, if you ignore the suspicious dark-red streaks running through them, and the bits of raw turnip are manageable as well. But the uncooked slices of potato prove to be a divider, with a surprisingly large number of would-be daredevils unable to face eating them. The main problem, however, is with the lumps of raw meat. Traditionally mutton was used in a hotpot, though nowadays it is more usually lamb. But exactly what animal the meat has come from is the least of their worries; they are more concerned with the blood that oozes out when any pressure is applied. Several simply get up and walk away, whilst others nervously poke and prod at the lumps. A few begin nibbling, and we see one man simply open his mouth and stuff one straight in.

“Eeuurgghh! That’s disgusting!” exclaims Lissie. “How can he eat that?!”

As the montage comes to an end, there are clearly a few who have eaten at least a fair part of the dish, including several lumps of meat, but the final shot shows that one man, the one we saw stuffing meat in his mouth earlier, appears to be the only one to have emptied his plate.

Lisa re-appears on-screen, in close-up, and announces, “When the time was up, the judges measured how much everyone had eaten, and we had a clear winner!”

The shot widens to reveal the man that we’re all expecting to have won standing next to Lisa, who he towers over, being well over 6 feet tall.

“Matt, well done,” she says to him, “you are our North-West Dare Champion!”

Back in the studio, Trixie takes up the introductions, saying, “Here he is, 27-year-old labourer from Bolton, Matt, our North-West regional winner!”

Matt enters to the sound of applause from the audience, and joins Trixie and Joe for a very brief interview. He has the typical appearance of someone who works outdoors all year round: he is tanned, and his face is slightly weather-beaten, underneath his designer stubble. His short-sleeved shirt allows us to see that he has prominent muscles on his upper arms.

“So, Matt,” Joe enquires, “how did you enjoy your Not-Hotpot?”

“It wasn’t the nicest thing I’ve ever had!” admits Matt. “But after 4 years of my missus’ cooking, I’ll pretty much eat anything!”

That’s brave of Matt, to come up with a one-liner like that straight away! He may just have alienated the female half of the audience!

“Are you looking forward to being on the show?” Joe asks him, ignoring the fact that the question is pointless: if Matt wasn’t looking forward to it, why on earth had we auditioned for it?!

“Yeah,” Matt tells him, “it’s going to be a real crack! I can’t wait to get going!”

“Well, Matt,” Trixie says to him, pointing him in the direction of the chairs, “if you’d like to go and take your seat over there.” Addressing the audience, she adds, “Everybody, … Matt!” The audience applaud wildly once more.

“So,” Trixie continues, “we’ve got our first regional winner. Join us after the break as we continue roaming the country for Britain’s Most Daring!”

As the adverts begin, I look at Phil to try to gauge his reaction to what he’s seen, but even 21 years of marriage doesn’t help me read his expressionless features.