[Fiction] Britain's Most Daring

[alli55]

Author's Note

This story is rather different from my two previous efforts, in a number of ways...

The first is the sheer scale of this one. I didn't set out with the intention of writing a story of near-epic length, but once I'd got going it just grew and grew! To be honest, it took on a life of its own and kind of took over mine as well! But, I just got hooked ... what can I say?!

This, in turn, gives rise to the second difference. This time there will be a new section posted daily, so you'll need to stay on your toes to keep up! It's either this, or we'll still be ploughing our way through the story next Christmas!

That I don't want to do, because I want to keep this story moving along and also give it a feel of being posted almost in real time! It's a story about a TV show that goes out once a week, so I want to keep to the time scale.

Then there is the nature of the story, which doesn't allow for as much character interaction and development as I usually include. That doesn't mean there isn't any, just that it's not as prominent as in the other stories I've written.

I know stories about dare-based TV shows have been done before, but I hope I've found a slightly different approach for my version! As before, if you want a sex-fest, then don't bother reading this. Curtis, if you're reading this, in this story there really is no sex at all!

I've also used this story to let my craziness loose! This means it will have a very different feel to it than my other stories, though there are moments of drama, pathos, and suspense thrown in.

Anyway, if a light-hearted, sex-free, fun story based entirely on dares, piques your interest, then I hope you will enjoy this.

So, beginning tomorrow, expect a daily posting for the next few months (fingers crossed, technology permitting).

Cheers,

Alli

P.S.
For any non-UK readers, I apologise in advance for loads and loads of references which will leave you either bewildered or googling like mad! Sorry!

[kmacroxs]

Sounds interesting. Looking forward to seeing how it goes.

[alli55]

I arrived home last Tuesday evening, after staying late at work, and was greeted by a very unusual sight: Madeleine, my eldest daughter, was waiting at the front door for me. She twirled the end of her hair round a finger, absent-mindedly, as she watched me park the car. I looked at her and marvelled at how she’d transformed from a slightly awkward adolescent into a beautiful young woman. I’m biased, of course, but she looked gorgeous in the fading light, with the sun’s last rays reflecting off her milk-chocolate-coloured hair. Although she doesn’t like the colour of her hair, I think it compliments her brown eyes and light complexion well. She also insists she’d prefer to be a bit slimmer, but, to me, she has a healthy body shape, with curves where a young woman should have curves! I waved to her, as I got out of the car, and elicited a wave and a broad smile in return.

Like I said, she was waiting at the front door for me. She hadn’t done that since she was around seven years old, and, bearing in mind she’s 17 now, that’s a long time! It immediately aroused my suspicion, as it would in any good mother!

“Mam,” she greeted me with a hug, “it’s so exciting!” She, literally, couldn’t keep still, such was her excitement over what she was about to tell me.

“What is, pet?” I asked.

“The TV show!” she replied, hopping from one foot to another, grinning from ear to ear.

“What TV show?” I enquired.

Maddie, for that’s what everyone calls her, gave me one of those disapproving looks that teenage daughters reserve especially for their parents.

“You know,” she insisted, “the one I told you about!”

I looked blankly at her. She may have told me about it, but I certainly didn’t remember!

“Ma-am!” she said, despairingly, “you remember, I told you that Gemma had gone to an audition for a TV show and …”

“Oh! Yes!” I interrupted. “Yes, I do remember! You said she’d got on to the show, didn’t you?”

Maddie’s face broke into a broad smile, displaying her happiness at knowing that I had actually remembered something she’d told me; something that had been so exciting to her.

“Yes, that’s right!” she affirmed. “Well, it’s going to be on this Saturday! Stacie told me today!”

“Oh, right!” I said. Stacie was Maddie’s best friend, and Gemma’s younger sister.

“Stacie and her Mam are going as well!” Maddie continued. “They’re going to be in the studio audience!”

“Oh, that must mean it’s a live show, then!” I told her.

“We’ve all got to watch it!” Maddie instructed. “I’ve already told Lissie! But, you’ve got to tell Dad!”

Lissie, or Melissa as we actually named her, is the younger of my two girls, a bubbly 12-year-old who is on the cusp of exiting childhood and heading into adolescence. Maddie adores Lissie, and Lissie worships her older sister, planning to use her as a living guidebook to being a teenager.

“I take it Lissie is nearly as excited as you!”

“She can’t wait! She looked up the show on the Channel 4 website to see what it said, and she’s super-excited about it! She said that, even if Gemma wasn’t on it, she’d definitely want to watch it, ’cos it looks really good!” Catching sight of her younger sister coming down the stairs, she added, “Didn’t you, Lissie?”

“What?” her sister asked.

“You said Gemma’s TV show looked really good, didn’t you?!”

“Oh, yeah,” Lissie replied, excitedly, “it looks brilliant! There’s, like, loads of dares and stuff, and it looks so cool, and a bit mad, and I can’t wait, it’s gonna be fab! We’ve all got to watch it, and, obviously, I want Gemma to win it!”

Gemma is now a smart 19-year-old woman, who has decided to forego university and work her way up through the business world instead. But, as Maddie and Stacie have been friends since nursery, I’ve known Gemma from when she was a clever-but-cheeky five-year-old. After their Dad died when Gemma was 9 and Stacie just 7, we took the two girls under our wing as their Mam struggled to cope. They’ve been on holiday with us many times; they lived with us for nearly six months when their Mam had a breakdown a year or so later; and were constantly in and out of our house all through their early teens. Naturally, then, we are all very fond of both Stacie and Gemma.

“Woah, slow down, Lissie,” I told her. “Let’s just enjoy the fact that Gemma’s on it, shall we!?”

“Yeah, but there’s no point being on it, if you’re not going to win it!” she insisted.

“You mean, try to win it,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, that!” she said, dismissively. “Oh, it’s going to be so, so-oo cool!” Her eyes widened with her excitement, allowing their soft, brown warmth to radiate out. She flicked her head back, returning her fringe to its proper position, and scooped a handful of light-caramel-coloured hair off her shoulder and dropped it behind her back. Sometimes, I thought, she really would be better off taking a leaf out of her sister’s book and adopting a slightly shorter hairstyle! But she’s adamant, so that’s that; and it does, at least, give the pair of us some nice mother-daughter time together, when we experiment with different ways of tying, pinning or otherwise shaping it. This particular evening, she was wearing it loose, allowing it to fully bring out her golden complexion. Although she’s not quite yet a teenager, I’m certain she’s going to end up even prettier than her older sister. I fully predict she’ll be fighting the boys off by the time she’s Maddie’s age, in a way that Maddie hasn’t had to do, much to her relief!

“We’ve all got to watch!” Lissie insisted again.

“You’ll make sure Dad watches with us, won’t you?” Maddie checked, making it clear that her father was going to be my responsibility.

“Yes,” I assured her, “I’ll make sure he does!”

Good Friday saw me and him begin our first proper tidy-up of the garden this spring, and a lovely, sunny Easter Saturday allowed us to finish the task. Two days of gardening, though, took its toll on our ageing bodies! Now that we’re well into our forties, things that we could do in our younger years, without a second thought, require a lot more recovery time than ever they did! So, with the clocks having gone forward last weekend, we decided to take advantage of the longer evening to put a couple of garden chairs on the patio and sit and relax our aching muscles.

“You haven’t forgotten we’re watching Gemma’s TV show this evening, have you?” I reminded Phil, my husband of 21 years.

“Oh!” he muttered. “Is it compulsory?” Phil hates the Saturday-evening programmes that he calls soppy garbage. He can’t stand talent shows anyway, but even shows where he might have liked the challenges that the contestants are set, he says are spoiled by all the gushiness surrounding the back-stories. So, he leaves me and the girls to it, though even we’ve become more picky in the last couple of years. We like Strictly, mainly for the outfits, and we’ve stuck with X-Factor largely because of the back-stories, but we no longer bother with the others.

“Yes! It is very much compulsory!” I told him. “Gemma’s on it, so it’s really important to Maddie and Lissie,” I pointed out, “and to me!”

“Hmmm” he replied, in a very non-committal manner.

“I know how fond Gemma was of you,” I informed him. “Probably still is, if the truth is known, so the least you can do is watch her big moment!”

“Okay, I’ll watch it” he sighed, resigned to losing the argument. He reached over and gave me a squeeze. “You could make it worth my while tonight, you know, Emma!” he suggested, with a naughty twinkle in his eye.

Although he has developed a little middle-aged spread, and his hair is flecked with grey, in my eyes he is still every bit as handsome as the day I first clapped eyes on him, at a restaurant where I was helping my best friend celebrate her 21st birthday. His friendly round face, warm brown eyes, and disarming smile had made it easy for him to win my heart, and none of those things had changed in the intervening years; in fact, if anything, age had improved his best features!

“I might just do that!” I flirted. “If you’re a good boy!” I turned my head as I sensed him leaning in, and we shared a tender kiss. A kiss that was interrupted by a slightly-embarrassed seventeen-year-old.

“It’s nearly time … oh!” Maddie began, catching us in our moment of loving tenderness.

We didn’t break the kiss immediately, both because we were enjoying the moment and also to satisfy a naughty desire to further increase Maddie’s awkwardness! After lingering slightly too long for her comfort, our lips parted, and I looked up at her staring into space, hands on hips, waiting impatiently.

“Yes, Maddie, you were saying?” I prompted her.

“The TV show’s going to start in 5 minutes!” she told us. “You need to come in!”

“Okay, we’ll be right in!” I promised her, and poked Phil, to get him moving. He didn’t respond, showing no desire whatsoever to get out of his seat.

“Come on, Dad!” Maddie urged, pulling on his arms to encourage him to get up. “You’re watching it, too!”

“What’s this show called then?” he asked, as he playfully resisted her tugging.

“Britain’s Most Daring! It’s going to be brilliant!”

[Bea]

Very excited to read on! I'm guessing the characters are in the North based on the dialects?

[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.

[Bea]

Loving how realistic this is. Could totally picture a show like this on Channel 4, you’ve got the bad one-liners down to the tee.

[alli55]

Maddie is frantically swiping the screen of her phone. Appearing to find what she’s searching for, she looks up and says, “Remember when you did the Ice Bucket Challenge, Dad?”

Rolling over onto her back, to give herself a better view of her Dad, Lissie exclaims, “Oh, that was so-oo funny!”

Maddie comes over and squeezes herself between me and Phil; Lissie follows her, standing so that she is leaning over us. We all look at Maddie’s phone as she plays the video clip of Phil having a bucket of icy water thrown over him by a very excited 14-year-old eldest daughter. We see him flinch as his skin is hit by a sudden and dramatic temperature drop. In the background we can hear Lissie shrieking with delight! The clip ends with my sopping-wet, shivering husband flanked by his two daughters, who are careful to leave a fairly wide gap between themselves and their Dad. Phil has a forced smile on his face, but the two girls are beaming from ear to ear!

“You were lucky it was a nice warm day!” I remind him.

“You were lucky I didn’t nominate you afterwards!” he tells me.

As we hear the theme music begin, Maddie and Lissie resume their TV-watching positions, ready for part two.

“Welcome back to Britain’s Most Daring, with me, Trixie Stonehill, …”

“… And me, Joe Denecker.”

“Before the break, we saw Matt become our first regional winner,” Trixie reminds us, “so let’s crack on! Where are we going next, Joe?”

Joe reveals our next destination. “Well, Trixie, if we were living on a polo mint, we’d be about to fall through the hole, because we’re heading right for the middle! Fortunately, in Britain, we call that the Midlands, and that’s where Richie is waiting for us!”

The screen shows a slightly older man, wearing a somewhat tatty jacket and jeans, which gives him a rough-and-ready appearance. This is augmented by his close-cropped hair and stubble-covered chin. As he welcomes us to the Midlands, Richie’s accent gives him away as being from the part of the country he’s reporting from, just like Lisa earlier.

“Hello from Birmingham, Britain’s second city, here in the Heart of England. Remember that phrase for later!” he advises us. “Before we can let our wannabe daredevils from the Midlands in, we need their help to unlock the door! All they have to do is find the key from in here!”

He holds up a small plastic bucket, the kind that young children use to make sandcastles on the beach. The camera zooms in on the contents of the bucket. It appears to be full of animal poo of some kind.

Lissie looks at me. “Is that what I think it is?” she asks.

“Yes,” I tell her, “I think it is!”

“Uugghhh!” she says, expressing herself very clearly!

During the next montage, roughly half the people in the queue to get into the building refuse to delve into the bucket of poo. Those that do hunt for the key, have, without exception, expressions of extreme disgust on their faces. However, once they’re committed, every single one comes up with the key in their hand.

The scene changes to one very like the hall in Manchester, with the same arrangement of chairs and tables.

Richie continues, talking into camera, “Now they’re in, it’s time for the food. For obvious reasons, we didn’t let them prepare it themselves!” He chuckles. “Now, remember I told you we were in the Heart of England? Well, what else could we give them to eat, then, but this?!”

He holds up a plate with three very different-sized lumps of meat-stuff on it. It looks like a gruesome version of the Goldilocks tale! The smallest is about half-a-centimetre across; the next is about three centimetres; and the largest almost ten centimetres across. It is very clear that none of them have been anywhere near an oven!

Richie explains what we are looking at, “So, here we have three hearts: a mouse heart, a chicken’s heart, and a pig’s heart. I think we can all work out which is which! But who fancies this for lunch, eh?”

We get another montage, as we watch the wannabes trying to pluck up the courage to start on the hearts. The mouse’s heart is so small it could probably be swallowed whole, avoiding the unpleasantness of experiencing its taste or texture. The other two are going to be more of a problem. We see mouse hearts disappearing into mouths, with just one refusal mixed in. Then we get our first shot of someone, a young woman, eating the chicken’s heart. A few more follow, in between shots of people prodding disconsolately at the larger hearts on their plate. A middle-aged man gets up and walks out. The camera focusses on another young woman, with brown hair falling over her shoulders, who has started chewing on the pig’s heart, though she seems to be having trouble swallowing it. The camera lingers on several plates that have been cleared of the two smaller hearts, but still have the pig’s heart left, before the montage comes to an end with the same young, brown-haired woman spitting out a partially-chewed lump of pig’s heart.

“Eeurghh! That’s gross!” exclaims Lissie.

Like we needed telling!

We see a tightly-framed shot of Richie as he announces the result. “Well, no-one actually ate everything! I know! Can you believe it?! But, once the judges had tallied things up, the winner was Bex!”

The camera shot widens and we see the young woman who had been the first to start on the chicken’s heart. She is smiling broadly, forming little pouch-like shapes on her cheeks, which exaggerates the roundness of her face.

“Well done, Bex! You’re off to represent the Midlands on Britain’s Most Daring!” he tells her.

Once again, Trixie takes over as the film ends, “Ladies and gentlemen, our Midlands regional winner, 24-year-old care worker from Edgbaston, Bex!”

The audience clap and cheer as Bex joins the two presenters, giving the audience a quick wave as she walks across the studio. Her shoulder-length blonde hair, which, judging by the dark roots that are starting to show, is out of a bottle, seems to glint in the bright lights of the studio, matching the twinkle in her dark brown eyes. She is dressed in a somewhat ill-advised tight-fitting top and skirt, both of which look as if they are struggling to keep her fuller figure in! From her demeanour, though, it is instantly obvious that she has no lack of confidence about her appearance!

“So, Bex,” Joe says, flashing the camera a cheeky grin, “you got right to the heart of the matter, didn’t you?!”

Bex gives him her best forced laugh but decides against making any sort of comment regarding his quip.

“No, but,” he continues, “what was it like having to eat those hearts?”

“Pretty disgusting!” Bex states, to the surprise of no-one.

“Once again,” Trixie says as she gently shepherds Bex towards her chair, “Bex!”

After the applause has died down, Trixie turns to Joe and asks, “Where next?”

“To the land of my fathers!” he tells her. She arches an eyebrow suspiciously. “Well, not me personally, obviously!” he admits. “We’re going to Wales. Let’s just hope that no sheep were harmed in the making of this film! Lowri, help me out, please!” The audience chuckle as the film begins.

Lowri, a raven-haired beauty in her late twenties, is standing in front of a crowd of what we assume are the Welsh wannabes, with a large Welsh dragon standing next to her, its long neck towering over her, slightly menacingly. Her dark eyes have the sort of fire about them that you would expect from the mouth of the dragon next to her, suggesting she might be quite a spirited woman. This particular audition was obviously filmed on a cold day, as Lowri has a thick coat and a scarf wrapped around her neck.

“Croeso i Gymru!” Lowri says, in her native language, before reverting to English, which she speaks with a delightfully-lilting Welsh accent. “Welcome to Wales! We’re in Cardiff to show you just how daring the Welsh are! Isn’t that right, guys?”

The wannabes leap around and cheer loudly, and the dragon also leaps about, making its head wobble all over the place on the end of its long neck. Lowri casts a quick glance above her, to check that she’s not about to get clouted on the head by her over-enthusiastic companion.

“As you can see, we’ve got our own dragon with us, and we all know that where there’s a dragon, there’s fire!” Lowri tells us. “So, our would-be daredevils are going to have to firewalk across a pit of hot embers if they want to get inside and have a chance of being Welsh dare champion! Are you ready, guys?”

The wannabes, and the dragon, leap around again, though some seem less enthusiastic now they know what they’re up against.

The screen switches to the montage, as we’ve come to expect, and we see a mix of successful and failed attempts to walk across the embers. We see several different styles, with some wannabes dashing across as fast as they can, whilst others adopt a more cautious approach. Generally speaking, it seems the faster you go, the more likely you are to make it across and not step off to the side. A lanky young black lad proves that there is an exception to every rule, as he saunters across the pit, shimmying from side to side, revelling in the attention.

When we rejoin Lowri, she is inside, amongst the usual set-up of tables and chairs. In the indoor warmth, she has shed her coat and scarf, and we can see she has a slim figure that adds to her beauty. She is wearing a pastel-green mohair top above a tight black skirt that ends halfway down her thighs. The dragon is still alongside her, looking a little incongruous in its new surroundings.

“Well, they’ve had a footbath, to let off steam, so to speak,” she says, grinning, “and now they’re ready for a bite to eat! So, what have we got for them? Well, every good gameshow should have its own Cowell, so we’ve got our traditional Welsh dish, cawl, for this lot to eat! Normally, of course, you’d cook it, but, well, we blew most of our budget on the dragon!”

The montage begins with a reveal of exactly what cawl is: a kind of soup or broth. Bits of carrot and potato are evident, as well as the iconic Welsh leek, but it’s the lumps of raw bacon that attract most attention. It’s a similar challenge to the Not-Hotpot, only made messier by the fact that everything is wallowing in a thick stock. Once more, the vegetables provide little resistance, with notably more of the Welsh wannabes happy to tuck into raw potato than their counterparts from the North-West. The bacon, though, proves to be a problem for many. Its texture means it’s very chewy, and difficult to break up in the mouth, and we repeatedly see bits being spat out or allowed to drop from the corners of a mouth. The montage ends with a shot of a flame-haired lad, looking as if he’s not yet out of his teens, holding his bowl up to his face, licking his way around the edge.

“Eat that, Cowell!” Lowri taunts, as we see her in close-up. “Well, there was a clear winner here in Cardiff, with a young lad who clearly has an appetite!” As before, the camera pans out, and we see the flame-haired lad standing next to Lowri, with the dragon on his other side. “Well done, Dylan, that was a really impressive performance!” she tells him. To the lad’s astonishment and embarrassment, she gives him a kiss on the cheek and the dragon pats his head, before the film ends and we return to the studio.

“Give it up for our Welsh winner, 18-year-old student from Llanelli, Dylan!” encourages Trixie, as the Welsh regional winner enters. As soon as we see his mop of red hair, we are able to deduce that the Welsh audition we have just watched must have been filmed some weeks ago, since Dylan’s hair has changed from a neat short-back-and-sides to a much longer ‘just-out-of-bed’ look! He is quite tall, but unlike Matt, has no real bulk to his body.

“Dylan, first things first,” begins Joe, “what was more difficult to deal with, the cawl, the dragon, or Lowri?”

Dylan blushes, and replies quietly, “Definitely the cawl, though I’m not sure I’d want to be left alone in a room with Lowri either!”

“Aye, she’s incorrigible, is wor Lowri!” Joe laughs. “And you’ve got to deal with her for the next few weeks! Are you ready for that?”

“On a dare show, you’ve got to be ready for anything, haven’t you?!” Dylan points out.

“You’ve got that right!” Joe agrees, before gently sending Dylan to his seat.

“Dylan, everyone!” says Trixie, to another enthusiastic round of applause. Without allowing it to die down, she adds, “Join us in a moment for more dares on Britain’s Most Daring!”

“What d’you reckon, Dad?” Maddie asks her father.

“Well we haven’t seen much of it yet,” Phil replies, sitting on the fence, “let’s see how it carries on!”

Maddie catches my eye and we share a look that speaks of exasperation.

“It’s brilliant!” says a voice from the floor. “Miles better than X-Factor!”

[Jojo246]

reminds me of the old tv shows they used to have such as prickly heat and wudja cudja

[alli55]

Lissie looks up at her sister. “Maddie, do you know what dares Gemma had to do?”

“Yes,” Maddie replies, “but I’m not telling you! Stacie made me promise not to say anything. She said Gemma wants it to be a surprise for all of you!”

That’s not the answer she was looking for, and Lissie isn’t sure whether or not she is happy to just wait and see what Gemma has had to do at the auditions for the show. She is impatient to know, but smart enough to realise that her enjoyment of that particular part of the show might be lessened if Maddie tells her. It doesn’t really matter, though, as Maddie makes it very clear that there is no chance of her revealing what she knows before we see it play out on our TV screen.

Lissie switches position slightly, rolling onto her side and using her legs to shift herself to an angle better suited to viewing the TV screen. Why, I wonder, can she not just sit in a chair to watch TV? The theme tune starts again, and we settle in for the next set of dares.

“Hello,” says Trixie, as the camera zooms in from a distant shot to focus on the two presenters, “and welcome back to Britain’s Most Daring!” She brings us up-to-date with the situation. “We’re still looking for our regional winners, and, so far, it’s three down, plenty more to go!” She pauses briefly. “Let’s go to your hometown, shall we, Joe?!”

“Your wish is my command!” Joe replies, earning a shake of the head from Trixie. “Home to the toughest of the tough and the maddest of the mad, it’s the bonny North-East! And who better to show you around than yours truly!”

“Oh my God!” Lissie shrieks in over-excitement. “This is Gemma’s bit!” Her foot is going frantically now, though she is completely unaware that she is even doing it!

Maddie moves closer to the screen, sitting, literally, on the very edge of her seat, in order to maximise her chances of spotting Gemma.

Even Phil and I both sit forward a little!

We see Joe outside an impressive-looking building, to the side of which, in the distance, we can see the distinctive Tyne Bridge. He has on what looks to be the same pair of slightly-worn skinny jeans, but paired with a thick navy sweatshirt this time.

“Hello, and welcome to Newcastle!” the onscreen Joe says. “We’ve got wor own Ice Bucket Challenge to test wor wannabe daredevils. But being as we’re from the North-East, and we’re as tough as nails, there’s none of this wussy clothes-wearing for us. It’s bare-chested man, like it should be! But before you get too excited, we’ve provided bikini tops for the lasses, and also insisted they be worn by anyone with moobs!”

The camera pans round to an overweight Geordie lad sporting a bright blue flowery bikini top! He jumps around enthusiastically, making his bikini-clad man-boobs jiggle and creating a significant wobbling of his belly! This leads into the next montage, where the familiar shrieks and gasps accompany the ice-cold water hitting naked, or near-naked, flesh. It would appear, though, that the Geordies really are a tough lot, because we only see two girls refusing the challenge; everyone else gets in, including our bikini-wearing friend, who is perilously close to losing his moob-covering when the added weight of the water starts to drag it downwards.

Disappointingly, it seems Gemma’s Ice Bucket Challenge didn’t make it into the final edit.

The hall in which Joe is standing is the same as all the other food-halls, only noticeably fuller of people, some of whom are wearing bath-robes whilst others are still bare-chested or bikini-clad.

“So, time for lunch, which we haven’t managed to cook, unfortunately,” says Joe to camera, “and I’ve just one word to say to you: panaculty!”

The montage begins, and we discover that panaculty is a regional variation on the traditional casserole. On each plate we can see pieces of potato, onion and carrot, together with the now-expected lumps of meat, which in this case appears to be corned beef. The carrot is easy; the potato and onion bearable for most, though a few can’t bring themselves to eat it; and the corned beef doesn’t seem to be as much of a problem as the bacon or lamb from elsewhere around the country. Our fat friend with the flowery bikini has had no problem eating his panculty, as he shows us, when he tips his plate upside down and rubs his stomach vigorously. It all means that the montage ends with a long shot in which quite a few empty plates can be seen. This is going to be a tougher decision for the judges.

Maddie thinks she might have spotted Gemma in the background of one shot, but the image didn’t last long enough to point her out to the rest of us, and she wasn’t totally sure it was actually Gemma, anyway. By now, Lissie is becoming desperate to see Gemma on the screen!

“I told you we make ’em hard in the North-East!” Joe maintains. “It went to a judges’ decision, and based on I don’t know what, they chose Gemma here as the North-East champion.”

As the camera pulls out, Joe puts his arm around the shoulder of a girl with long blonde hair, who like Dylan before, looks to be still a teenager. Dressed in a bathrobe and jeans, she presents a rather incongruous image, but seems unfazed by her unorthodox appearance, simply revelling in the joy of having made it through. Her smile fills her face, and her greyish-blue eyes sparkle as they reflect the bright light of the camera.

Lissie is almost beside herself with excitement, and Maddie shrieks with delight at the sight of Gemma smiling at us! I have to admit, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end!

Trixie introduces Gemma to the audience: “Give her a warm welcome, 19-year-old office assistant, our North-East winner, from Wallsend, … Gemma!”

This time it’s Trixie who conducts the mini-interview. “Gemma, have you ever eaten panaculty before?”

“I’ve never even heard of it before!” she laughs. “But, if I have it again, I’m making sure it’s cooked!”

“Quite right!” Trixie comments. She leans closer to Gemma and lowers her voice, as she asks, conspiratorially, “And you had to bring him with you, did you?!”, nodding her head towards Joe.

Gemma laughs, “Yeah, he said he needed a lift, so we stuck him in the back!”

Joe looks surprised and quietly impressed by her quick-witted response. He comes across and accompanies her to her seat.

“Gemma! Yeah!” Trixie encourages the audience’s applause for the young daredevil.

“That was amazing!” enthuses Lissie.

“She was really quick to think of that answer!” Phil remarks, sounding impressed.

“She’s always been smart, hasn’t she?!” I tell him.

Maddie’s face is just one huge smile!

With Gemma’s bit over, we can all relax again.

Joe is still having a quiet conversation with Gemma. Trixie picks up on this once the applause has died down.

“Joe, put her down and tell us where we’re going next!”

Sheepishly, Joe returns to his spot and informs us of the next region to be featured. “We’re going overseas, to a land of mystery and mayhem and Mairie!”

Mairie appears on the screen. She is, like almost all of the presenters, in her twenties, and has a slightly waifish appearance, with hazel eyes matching her hair that cascades over her shoulders and down either side of her front. She is wearing a knee-length red woollen dress, accompanied by thick navy-blue leggings, both of which serve to emphasise her lithe figure.

“Hello from Belfast,” she says in a distinctive Ulster accent. “Let’s see what we’ve got in store for all our brave daredevils here in Northern Ireland!”

Phil and I watch in increasing disbelief as the nature of the opening dare planned for the Ulster wannabes becomes clear. I look at him to check that it’s not just me who feels this is entirely inappropriate, and he confirms my view.

“Oh, you have to be kidding me!” he says. “They can’t do this!”

The girls look at him, but it is clear that they are blissfully unaware of the history of the province that gives this dare such a bad taste.

“Everyone knows that we’ve had our Troubles in the past here in Northern Ireland,” Mairie explains, seemingly either oblivious or uncaring about the number of people she is about to offend, “but our wannabes are going to have troubles of their own getting past our security guards! They’re armed with paintball guns and have plenty of ammo to hand, so if you want to get in you’re going to get messy!”

Even before the montage begins, it is clear that this is going to be the sternest entrance test yet. Subjecting yourself to being shot at with paintball guns means running the very real risk of permanently ruining whatever clothes you’re wearing. It is, therefore, no surprise when the montage begins with a shot of large numbers of people leaving the queue. Many are shaking their heads in disbelief at what’s been asked of them. As the montage continues, we see the few brave or stupid daredevils, depending on your point of view, running past the paintball snipers. They emerge covered in blobs of paint, some grimacing with the stinging pain of the pellets. One poor girl, wearing the shortest of short skirts, takes several stinging blows to her thighs; as the multi-coloured rivulets run down her legs, she looks close to tears, but the sadists firing the pellets take no mercy and blast her several more times. When the montage ends, we see that, inside the food-hall, which is set up just like all the others, there are no more than a dozen wannabes sat at the tables. Hearteningly, the girl with paint-splattered thighs is amongst them.

“Well, that was tough, wasn’t it?!” Mairie remarks. “But, now they’re in, it’s time to reward them with the best breakfast known to man! The Ulster Fry! But, of course, we haven’t cooked theirs! Oh well!”

As the next montage begins, we see that the Ulster Fry seems to be a fairly standard cooked (or in this case uncooked) breakfast, with sausage, bacon and egg all on the plate. There also appear to be segments of potato, which in a normal Ulster Fry would, presumably, be fried. The potato, then, is going to be the easiest bit of this meal. The Northern Ireland regional champion is really going to earn their place in the studio! With so few in the hall, we are able to check in on each one during the montage. None have touched the sausage, and most are leaving the egg well alone, too. When the montage has finished, it’s apparent that we are going to require another judges’ decision.

“Now we know why it’s the Ulster Fry! The Ulster Raw just isn’t the same!" Mairie quips as she reappears in-shot. “Anyway, after a tough day, the judges declared our Northern Ireland dare champion to be James.”

A different camera angle reveals James to be a middle-aged, balding man, whose clothes, despite their paint-splattered state, indicate that he has an expensive sartorial taste, which makes his victory all the more impressive.

Trixie’s introduction is as enthusiastic as ever. “Our Northern Ireland champion, 46-year-old office manager from Carrickfergus, James, everyone!” she cries, and the audience respond eagerly. James smiles at the warm welcome he’s receiving. In his jacket and tie, he looks a little out of place and over-dressed, but, being quite a bit older than everyone else, it somehow seems to be the right thing to have done.

“James, hello!” says Joe.

“Hello!” replies James.

“We saw you covered in paint!” Joe reminds him.

“Yes,” James recalls, “those lads were pretty good shots!”

“Did it come out in the wash?”

“No, it didn’t! I gave the shirt and trousers to a couple of local lasses who were making a scarecrow for a village competition!”

“Good man!” Joe says, shaking James’ hand, before directing him to his seat.

“Let’s hear it for James!” encourages Trixie. Over the applause, she continues, “Join us after the break for more Britain’s Most Daring!”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m shocked!” I tell everyone, though Phil already knows.

“I can’t believe they thought that dare was in any way appropriate!” my husband agrees, as the adverts assault us again.

“What dare?” Lissie asks him.

“The paintballing one!” he tells her.

“Why?” she asks. “What was wrong with it?”

He spends the rest of the ad-break telling the two girls about the Troubles in Northern Ireland, and how a dare involving shooting people, even if it is only with paintball pellets, is in very poor taste. “Lots of people will be very offended by that!” he finishes by telling them.

[alli55]

Maddie and Lissie look at each other, as they take in the fact that they have just sat through possibly the most controversial piece of television output that either of them has ever seen in their lives … and they hadn’t even realised there was anything wrong with it at the time!

There’s a rather sombre atmosphere in the room as the ad-break comes to a close. It is shattered by the theme music announcing the start of the next part of the show. Very quickly, the controversy is forgotten as we immerse ourselves in the next chunk of craziness.

“Welcome back. I’m Trixie Stonehill, …”

“… and I’m Joe Denecker, ...”

“… and you’re watching Britain’s Most Daring.” Trixie continues, before bringing us up to speed. “We’ve found half of our 10 regional winners, so let’s continue touring the nation! Joe?”

“We’re going to the land of the southern softies next, so don’t expect anything much from this bunch of mummy’s boys and girls!” Joe teases as he introduces the next region. “And talking of mummy’s girls, here’s wor very own Trixie! … Ouch!” A wider-angle shot reveals the cause of his last utterance to be a playful-yet-hefty punch to his upper arm from his co-presenter!

The on-screen Trixie, wearing a lemon-coloured crop-top and a pair of tight denim shorty-shorts, is standing at the entrance to Bournemouth Pier. We are made to wonder whether that means a different approach to the dares this time. We quickly find out it does. It is also safe to assume that these auditions were held many months ago, last summer, unless Trixie is incredibly resistant to the cold!

“Welcome to Bournemouth, on a gloriously sunny day!” enthuses Trixie. “All our wannabe daredevils are already on the pier, so let’s go and join them!” She turns and walks through the pier entrance.

The next shot shows Trixie standing at the end of the pier, with a long queue snaking its way back towards the main pier building.

“Before we can find them some lunch,” Trixie begins, “they’ve got to get off the pier. And for our wannabe winners there’s only one way off!” She leans over the edge of the pier and looks down. “That way!” she says, grinning at the camera, as two burly muscle-men take up position next to her. “Right, who’s first?” she asks the queue.

There follows a montage of people being hurled off the end of the pier by the two strongmen. We can clearly see rescue dinghies waiting to haul them out of the water, so health and safety hasn’t been completely abandoned! Judging by what we see in the montage, about three-quarters of the queue have ended up in the sea. Most manage to twist and turn in mid-air enough to hit the water feet-first, but there are some more-spectacular entries into the sea as well! One large man will certainly have a very red back, after going in bum-first with an almighty splash!

When we return to Trixie, she is on the beach. “So, after a nice little dip in the sea, it’s time for lunch. As you know, here in the south we like to eat healthily, so we’ve selected a snack that’s packed with goodness and just waiting to be eaten!” She holds up a plate draped with a variety of different seaweeds, which, judging by the glistening dampness, have, like the wannabes, only recently been pulled out of the sea.

Edible seaweed is a growing phenomenon amongst right-on foodies, but just how many of our wannabes have heard of it isn’t clear from the montage. Certainly, plenty of them are eyeing their plates suspiciously. Others, though, are chomping their way through the salty snack. Midway through the montage a young woman stops chewing, puts her fingers into her mouth, and pulls out a smallish sea-snail. She looks at it, shows it to the camera, and then pops it back into her mouth, swallows it, and smiles! The montage ends with a series of glimpses of empty plates. It’s another one for the judges!

“Well, the judges have had a hard time making a decision,” Trixie informs us, “but they have finally come up with a Southern champion, and I’m pleased to announce, the winner is Mitchell!”

Mitchell joins Trixie in-shot. He is another twenty-something, with a nice beach body that he is showing off to full effect, wearing only his surfer shorts.

“Mitchell,” Trixie asks him, “why is the sand wet?” He looks blankly at her. “Because the seaweed!” She laughs; he doesn’t.

The film ends and Mitchell is introduced to the studio audience by Trixie, in her usual spirited manner. “Let’s welcome our Southern regional winner, 24-year-old leisure consultant from Winchester, please give it up for Mitchell!” The audience do so, with relish.

Now that he is fully clothed, Mitchell looks more anonymous. He is average height, average build, neither particularly good-looking nor hideously ugly, and with a very normal haircut. Mr Completely-Ordinary, in other words!

“Mitchell,” begins Joe, “what was it like on the pier being tossed off by two beefy guys?” Once more, he flashes a cheeky grin at the camera; the audience snigger in response.

“I wouldn’t recommend it!” Mitchell informs him. “It’s a lot further than you think!”

“And what about the seaweed?” Joe asks. “Would you recommend that?”

“Actually, I probably would! If you washed the salt off, it would probably be okay, in a salad or something like that!”

“If you say so!” remarks Joe. “I don’t think I’ll be having any, thank you!”

“Suit yourself!” Mitchell replies.

“One more thing before you take your place over there: is there anything you want to ask Trixie?”

“Yes!” Mitchell turns to address Trixie. “What does the seaweed say when it’s stuck at the bottom of the sea?”

Trixie shakes her head.

“Kelp me! Kelp me!” Mitchell tells her.

Trixie is still shaking her head as Joe shows Mitchell to his chair. “Mitchell, everyone,” she says and waits for the applause to fade before continuing, “Joe, take me away from here!”

“Okay, let’s go to the county with more pride than your mother!” Joe says. “The home of ecky-thump and eeh-bah-gum, and if I’ve not insulted every single Yorkshireman already, I’ll work on it while we go over to Javid!”

The filmed segment begins, with a young Asian lad in jeans and a cream-coloured hoodie, in his early twenties, standing in front of another queue, this time outside an old brick-built factory-type building. He is sporting a neatly-trimmed goatee amidst a sea of stubble across the rest of the lower half of his face.

“Welcome to the Steel City,” he says, “where our Yorkshire wannabes are waiting expectantly.”
The wannabes cheer on cue.

It is clear that the show’s producers have made every effort to get a local presenter for each region, and Javid’s accent reveals he is no exception.

“So, this is Sheffield, city of steel,” he tells us, “which means there’s only one entrance test we can give our would-be daredevils!” The camera pans down to a long wooden board studded with hundreds, if not thousands, of long nails, as Javid explains the challenge. “They are going to have to walk, barefoot, along the full length of this bed of nails! That’s their only way in! But are they up to the challenge?”

The wannabes cheer again as the montage begins. We see shoes being discarded and people start to walk across the bed of nails. They are all taking it slowly, not wanting to put extra pressure on their feet by attempting to go too fast. More than a few wince occasionally as they cross, but the montage reveals only a handful of refusals, and just one, overweight man who steps on but has to quickly step off to one side, unable to put his full weight on to the nails.

As the montage ends, we return to Javid, who is now in the all-too-familiar food-hall. “Here we are, then, ready for a traditional Yorkshire delicacy: black pudding. But not any old black pudding! Ours have been specially made just for today; and when I say made, I mean mashed together and left to dry rather than actually being cooked like they normally are!”

Faced with the dried, pulped, uncooked ingredients of a black pudding, many of the people in the hall just up and leave, as the early part of the montage shows. Others scrape out the pulp and try to work out what they are being asked to consume. Oatmeal and suet seem to be the mainstays of the mixture, but there are unappealing lumps of fat in there too, and it is all soaked through with pig’s blood. As the montage comes to its final part, there are a few chomping away, but none of them seem to be doing so with any relish.

“Well, it was a close one for the judges to call, but we have a winner, and here he is: Tommy, well done, mate!” Tommy moves into shot and Javid shakes his hand. We can see that Tommy is a little older, seeming to be in his thirties, with a weather-beaten complexion on a face that looks as if it has plenty of stories to tell.

“34-year-old stonemason, from Cleckheaton, Tommy, our Yorkshire regional winner; make him feel welcome!” cries Trixie, once more whipping the audience into a fervour as the next regional winner walks on. Tommy is also wearing a jacket, which looks like it could be the top half of a decent suit, but has decided to wear with it a pair of well-worn jeans. His blonde hair, cut into a short-back-and-sides, has been slicked back with copious amounts of gel, which is glistening under the fierce studio lights. He’s not going to win any awards for his dress sense, nor is he blessed with the most handsome features, but the laughter lines we can see on his face suggest he might well have that other great attraction: a good sense of humour.

“So, Tommy,” asks Joe, “is that how you got your good looks, eating crap like that?!”

Tommy laughs and replies, “I reckon it must be! What’s your excuse?”

“Oh, man,” replies Joe, without missing a beat, “I’ve been sandblasted once too often by a nagging North Sea breeze!”

“Yeah?” Tommy quips back. “I’ve been to Scarborough for my holidays, as well!”

“One more time, Tommy!” Trixie says as the audience applaud again. She looks into the camera and says, “That’s most of our regional winners identified, we’ll find out who the last few are after this break! Join us, when we come back, for more Britain’s Most Daring!”

Phil gets up as the theme music ends. “I need a wee!” he announces and leaves the room.

Lissie rolls over and asks me, “Can you really eat seaweed?”

“You did!” I tell her, and Maddie laughs.

“Did I?” Lissie questions, somewhat disbelievingly.

“Yes,” I inform her, “when you were two, on holiday, at Scarborough, funnily enough! We were on the beach, and you and Maddie went looking in some rockpools next to where we were sitting. When I looked over, you were sat in a pool with seaweed hanging out of your mouth!”

Lissie screws up her face in disgust. Maddie has heard this story before, but is enjoying it immensely all the same.

“Was I alright?” Lissie checks.

“Yes,” I reply, “I don’t think you actually ate any of it, you just put it in your mouth. But then, when you were little, you put most things in your mouth!”

“Like what?” she asks.

“Sand, mud,” I begin.

“A worm,” Maddie adds, remembering her favourite ‘little Lissie’ story.

“Uugghh!” groans Lissie.

“You were a pretty disgusting toddler!” Maddie remarks, smirking at her little sister.

[alli55]

“Did I really put a worm in my mouth?” asks Lissie, concerned about what exactly she might have submitted her younger self to.

“You certainly did!” I tell her.

“It was really disgusting,” Maddie recalls, “and really funny at the same time! Especially when the other end wiggled about and curled round the end of your nose!”

Lissie covers her face with her hands in an attempt to conceal her disgust and embarrassment, as Maddie revels in regaling her with all the gruesome details.

“It was half-in half-out of your mouth, hanging there, with its other end wriggling around. Then it sort of coiled itself into a loop and found the end of your nose, and it began trying to grip on. Mam had to stop it from actually going up inside your nose! Didn’t you, Mam?!”

“I did!” I affirm, chuckling at the memory of it.

“You mean you were there and didn’t get it out of my mouth?!” Lissie exclaims.

“You wouldn’t let me!” I retort. “You had your mouth clamped shut!”

“You were trying to suck it in!” Maddie reveals.

“What?! Why?” asks Lissie, incredulous at this latest detail.

“I think you thought it was like the spaghetti you used to have for your tea!” I explain.

Lissie covers her face once more. “Urgh, that’s gross!” she declares. Maddie and I simply exchange looks and nod in agreement.

The theme music begins before we can embarrass Lissie with any more tales of her disgusting toddler behaviour. Phil returns from the loo just as the show is resuming.

“Welcome back!” says Trixie. “We’re touring the country looking for Britain’s Most Daring, and we have three more regions still to visit, so where are we going next, Joe?”

“We’re off to sunny Scotland!” Joe informs Trixie, the studio audience, and the watching public. “Or should I say, soggy Scotland! I think you’ll see why, when we cross over to Lorna!”

The screen fills with a shot of a tall, slim brunette sheltering under a large umbrella as an incessant rain beats down. She has a thick dark-green sweater on and a knee-length skirt that has a tartan pattern that makes it resemble a kilt. Lorna is doing her best to keep the umbrella over her head without obscuring the view of her that the camera is getting.

“Hallo, and welcome to Glasgow!” she begins with a soft Edinburgh lilt that is frequently rated as the nation’s favourite regional accent. “As you can see, we haven’t exactly picked a lovely summer’s day, but we Scots are used to a bit of rain, so I’m sure it won’t dampen the enthusiasm of our daredevils!”

She may be sure, but, by the looks of the bedraggled queue, they don’t seem so certain. The weather has clearly put people off coming, as the queue is considerably shorter than any of the others we have so far seen.

“As I’m sure you know,” Lorna continues, “we have a reputation for battering and deep frying everything from Mars Bars to shortbread via dry roasted peanuts. And no, I’m not joking about the peanuts! So, to get in to our lunch today, our wannabes are going to be coated in batter, though we won’t be deep frying them you’ll be relieved to know!”

The montage begins and slightly fewer than half the soaking-wet hopefuls give up when they find they are about to be coated in a batter mix that probably won’t come out of their wet clothes. The others are gunged from above and emerge the other side with batter and rainwater dripping from all parts of them. None of them look remotely happy!

“You have to feel sorry for them, don’t you?” Lorna comments, from her position in the food-hall. “Well, we did anyway,” she adds, “so we gave them a bath-robe so they could get out of their wet and sticky clothes.” The view behind her, of a fairly small number of people sat at the tables, all wearing bath-robes, confirms this.

“Now they’re all ready for their lunch, and we’ve got a special Scottish treat for them: haggis, which we’ve battered, of course! But just like our wannabes, we didn’t deep fry the haggis either; or cook it in any other way. Let’s see how they get on!”

The montage begins with most of the haggises being toyed with rather than eaten. One young woman, in particular, seems intent on spreading the bits of minced sheep’s organs over as big an area as possible. We come back to her repeatedly during the montage, as the mess in front of her keeps growing. A few hardy souls are eating, with another young woman doing particularly well, but the dripping batter mix isn’t helping anyone. The final shot of the montage sees us return to the woman and her minced mess, only now she has re-arranged it in such a way as to spell out the words ‘this is shit’! Being Channel 4, there is no censoring of the bad language.

“Oh dear!” Lorna sympathises, as the camera closes in so that she fills the frame, “you have to feel for them, don’t you?!” By now, we’ve seen the format enough to realise that the winner will be standing next to her when the camera shot widens out. “Well, we had a clear winner here in Glasgow, and here she is, … Ayla!” She puts an arm around her companion and says to her, “Congratulations, and just you be sure to go and show them how daring we Scots can be!”

A young blonde-haired woman, with a curvy figure, beams with a mixture of pleasure and pride, next to Lorna. “You can count on it!” she promises.

Trixie gives her usual welcome to the latest regional winner. “Let’s meet our Scottish champion, 22-year-old graduate from Musselburgh, Ayla.”

Ayla walks on to the expected rapturous applause. She is grinning from ear to ear, and, with the fingers of one hand, gives a cheeky little wiggle-wave to the audience.

“Ayla, welcome!” says Joe. “What’s the weirdest deep-fried thing you’ve eaten?”

“I don’t really like deep-fried stuff!” Ayla replies, taking Joe a little by surprise.

He is quick-witted enough to have a comeback ready, though. “Are you sure you’re really Scottish?” he asks, jokingly.

“Oh, aye,” she tells him, deliberately enhancing her accent for effect, “and dinnae you tell me anything tae the contrary, you cheeky Sassenach!”

The audience lap up Ayla’s confident reply, and Joe milks it a little more.

“So, are you doing this for Scotland, like a little braveheart?” he asks.

“Aye,” replies Ayla, “I’m gonnae win this for everyone the correct side of the border!”

Joe points her to her chair, as Trixie says, “Ayla, everyone, our very Scottish champion!” The audience whoop with delight, as they take Ayla to their hearts.

“Our chairs are filling up nicely!” Trixie says, as we get a quick shot of the 8 regional winners so far revealed, all sitting in their places. It means that just over half the chairs are now occupied. “Only two regions left, so where are we heading next, Joe?” she asks her co-presenter.

We note that Gemma is looking relaxed, sitting on the furthest end of the front row of seats.

“We’re going from one end of the country to the other,” Joe tells her. “Down to the South-West, where every ooh is followed by an arr! Let’s check in with wor resident yokel, Olly!”

The filmed segment begins with Olly, a tall young man with a striking appearance and an even more striking hairstyle, standing in front of a large barn. He is wearing a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, complete with a pair of wellies, but it really is his hair that draws your attention. Cut short at the back and sitting just above the ears, it then rises up in swirling strawberry-blond waves that end in an extravagant pointed tip protruding forward fifteen centimetres above his forehead. Behind Olly and his hair, there is the familiar sight of a queue winding its way away from the entrance to the building. The only difference is that this building has two distinct doors a couple of metres apart from each other, rather than the usual single door.

“Greetings from Bristol,” Olly begins, with a distinctive West Country burr apparent from the off, “and welcome to the South-West regional auditions. We’ve decided to hold our event in a cowshed, and to start with we’re just asking our wannabes to simply dare to enter the cowshed! They have a choice of two doors, and just like with a cow, which entrance they choose will determine what they can expect to receive. Choose the right one and they’ll be given a light milk shower, but choose the wrong one and … well, I’ll leave you to imagine what else comes out of a cow!”

The early part of the montage is filled mainly with refusals, which is to be expected, given that this dare is another potential clothes-wrecker. As we go on, though, more people are choosing to try their luck. After each person has gone through, there is a period of clean-up, not surprisingly, given the messy nature of this dare. While the clean-up is undertaken, there is an opportunity to switch the gunge tanks behind each door, which is sometimes done and sometimes not. So, even we don’t know what each entrant will be coated in. Those we see gunged during the montage are split fairly evenly between milk and cowpats.

The bath-robes are in evidence again, behind Olly, as he does his next piece to camera. “Having got in, and got covered,” he tells us, “our wannabes can now have their lunch. We’ve found a traditional West Country delicacy for them to tuck into, though obviously we haven’t gone as far as actually cooking it! Squab Pie is a local treat, and we all know what a squab is, don’t we?! A baby pigeon!” Olly turns to the wannabes, and says, loudly, “Did you get that? Baby pigeon!”

Both of the girls look at me, frowning in half-disgust half-uncertainty. I shrug my shoulders. I have no idea whether you actually make a pie out of a baby pigeon! The way this show has gone so far, it wouldn’t surprise me!

At the start of the montage, a caption appears at the bottom of the screen. ‘Actually, squab pie contains mutton and apples, and definitely no baby pigeons!’ We now know that, but the poor wannabes don’t! The texture of the raw mutton appears to be enough to put a fair number off, but the added thought that it is actually a baby pigeon does for even more of them. Plenty are eating the bits of apple and about half are tucking into the raw pastry, but the lumps of meat are largely untouched. Except for two men, sitting next to each other, who seem to each be urged on by the sight of the other’s progress. By the time the montage ends the winner is clearly going to be one or other of these two.

Olly re-appears on-screen, flanked by the two potential winners: a big, heavy-set guy with chiselled features and a receding hairline, standing to Olly’s right; and a shorter, stocky man with slicked back hair and a friendly face that’s filled with a warm smile. “Well, as you could see,” Olly says,” it was a very close thing between Bradley here,” he indicates the shorter man on his left, “and Steve. They both did brilliantly, but we don’t do dead-heats on this show, so I can reveal that the winner in the South-West is,” he pauses for effect, then raises Bradley’s hand, “Bradley!” Steve reaches across and shakes Bradley’s hand as the film ends.

“Ladies and gentlemen, here he is, our South-West champion, 28-year-old horticulturalist from Chipping Sodbury, Bradley!” cries Trixie, her enthusiasm showing no sign of waning. The audience, likewise, are as generous as ever with their applause, as Bradley, wearing a smart shirt with equally well-presented jeans, walks purposefully across to the two presenters.

“Bradley,” Joe says, “that was a bit close, wasn’t it?!”

Bradley is keen to acknowledge how well Steve had done. “It was, real close! Steve did really well, and to be honest I thought he’d got it!”

“And I believe you two know each other, is that right?!”

“Yes,” Bradley confirms, “he was the best man at my wedding last year!”

“Well, this time round it was your turn to be the best man!” Joe tells him and sends him across to join the other regional winners.

“Let’s hear it for Bradley!” urges Trixie, and the audience respond. As the applause continues, Trixie says, “Okay, we’ve just one region to go, so join us after the break as we reveal our final regional winner on Britain’s Most Daring!”

Maddie tries again: “So, Dad, what do you think of it?”

“It’s alright!” her Dad tells her. Coming from him, that’s high praise indeed!

“I love it!” Lissie tells us, yet again.

[alli55]

“I’m quite surprised Gemma went in for a show like this!” Phil remarks, changing the subject slightly, “I wouldn’t have put her down as the daring type!”

“No,” I agree, “I know what you mean!” Turning to my eldest daughter, I ask, “Maddie, do you know why Gemma decided to go to the audition?”

Maddie does know, and tells us, “She went with two others from her work. They all sort of egged each other on into doing it. But one of the others wouldn’t do the Ice Bucket Challenge, apparently, and the other did everything but just didn’t get picked. He told Gemma that she only got chosen because she’s young and pretty. At least, that’s what Stacie told me.”

“I’d do it if I was old enough!” Lissie announces.

I know for a fact that she wouldn’t! She might think she would, but faced with a challenging situation, Lissie generally bottles out.

As we return after the ad-break, Trixie tries to vary her usual welcome back speech a little. “We’re about to find out who our last regional winner is on Britain’s Most Daring, with me Trixie Stonehill, …”

“… And me, Joe Denecker.” There’s little Joe can do to alter his contribution.

“So, I guess we know where we’re going, then?!” Trixie half-asks half-tells Joe.

“Yep, it’s the nation’s capital, the multicultural melting pot where anything goes!” Joe gives the final region a big build up. “So, I think we can expect plenty of up-for-anything daredevils here, as we join Aleksandra in London!”

The moment she appears on the screen, it is crystal clear that Aleksandra is breathtakingly beautiful. Naturally blonde, with striking blue eyes, she has a pert figure that she is showing off in a tight-fitting mini-dress, and wavy hair that hangs seductively over her shoulders. When she speaks, we become aware that she isn’t a native Londoner. Her accent not only betrays her East European descent but adds to her allure.

“Hello everyone, and welcome to Docklands in the heart of the city of London,” she says, managing to speak and maintain a radiant smile at the same time. “As you can see, here in the capital there is no shortage of people waiting to take up our challenge!”

We switch to a wide-angle, overhead shot, which reveals an enormous number of people in a queue that wiggles this way and that around what appears to be a car park minus the vehicles.

“Because we have so many would-be daredevils, we must change our Ice Bucket Challenge to cope with the crowds,” she informs us, “but, luckily for us, we already knew how crazy and daring Londoners are, so we expected this! So, let’s watch our wannabes enjoying their ice-cold group showers!”

Once the montage begins, we see that people are entering in groups of six, and each group is soaked by the contents of a large overhead tank that is acting as a giant ice bucket. Some groups clearly contain friends who have come along together, as we see them hugging each other to try to protect themselves a little; other groups are more obviously just a collection of strangers sharing an icy soaking. We only see a few refusals, and can assume that the food hall is going to need to be considerably bigger than the others ones we’ve seen this evening.

When we return from the montage, we find Aleksandra stood on a balcony overlooking a large arena-type floorspace filled with the usual tables and chairs. Almost all of the wannabes are wearing the now-expected bath-robes.

“After we gave them a bath-robe each to dry off and warm up,” Aleksandra explains, “we bring them into here for a lovely traditional Cockney snack!” She holds up a pack of jellied eels and, with her other hand, stabs a piece of eel with a small fork. It appears she may actually be going to eat some of this. “I have here some proper jellied eels,” she informs us, “but the ones that we have for our daredevils are not quite the same. Mine have been chopped, boiled in vinegar, and coated with spices, which is what you must do! Theirs have been only chopped up and left! I don’t want to eat the ones they have, but mine … yummy!” She ends her piece to camera by popping the piece of jellied eel on her fork into her mouth and chewing.

Jellied eels, despite its reputation as a Cockney favourite, is far from everyone’s cup of tea at the best of times, and, as we see from the montage, when faced with these chopped bits of eel, the wannabes are clearly struggling. Given the huge numbers that have made it this far, it is probably a good thing that over half cannot stomach even the thought of eating bits of eel and simply either leave or sit in their chair waiting for time to be called. Others, though, are making a start, and varying amounts of eel are disappearing from plates. The camera focusses on one young black girl, who is taking bits of eel from the plates of those around her, even though her plate is still full. As we watch, she becomes more careful about which pieces she selects. We see a few more shots of people eating bits of eel, before the montage ends by returning to the eel thief. A close-up shot of the table in front of her reveals that she has reconstructed a whole eel!

When we return to Aleksandra, she is still chewing and her pack of jellied eels is empty, leading us to believe that she has eaten the lot.

“Mmmm,” she says, after she has swallowed her last mouthful, “I love jellied eels! I think I must have Cockney ancestors!” She smiles, once more, her face lighting up with its captivating radiance. “So, if you can Adam-and-Eve it, we have brought our judges up the apples-and-pears, to give us the brass-tacks and let us know who was Mae-West at the dare! And if you understood that, do me a cheesy-quaver and let me know, because I haven’t understood a dicky-bird!" She shrugs her shoulders and giggles, before adding, “I haven’t got a Scooby-Doo!” and giggling again. Regaining her composure, she attempts to put on a serious face, and states, “Anyway, our judges have been looking at what everyone has eaten, and they have picked their winner. So, a big round of applause for Tariq!”

The camera shot widens to show Tariq, a young Asian lad with a short haircut and stubbly growth on his chin, standing next to Aleksandra. He shifts uncomfortably, looking rather embarrassed, when she puts her arm around him, pulls him in close to her, and informs us, “And he’s such a good boy, as well!”, giggling again. At least she’s not quite as forward as Lowri was with poor Dylan!

We return to the studio, where Trixie introduces the final regional winner. “Let’s give our London regional champion a big Britain’s Most Daring welcome: from Acton, 20-year-old software developer, Tariq!” The young Londoner swaggers across the studio, with a very down-with-the-kids walking style. The accompanying applause is as enthusiastic as always.

Joe shakes Tariq’s hand and says, “Tariq, you managed to escape Aleksandra’s clutches then?!”

Tariq nods, and shuffles his feet, somewhat embarrassedly.

“How did you enjoy your day, overall?” asks Joe.

“It was good, innit,” Tariq replies. “I’ve never had jellied eels before, but afterwards, on the way home, I bought a pack to see what they were supposed to taste like, innit!”

“And …?” Joe enquires.

“They were a lot better than the one you lot gave me, innit!” Tariq laughs.

“Give it up for Tariq, everyone!” cries Trixie, as Joe shows Tariq where to sit.

The camera pans along the two occupied rows of chairs as Trixie begins her next link.

“There she is!” Lissie points out as Gemma comes into shot.

“Thank-you, Lissie,” Maddie replies sarcastically, “I’d never have known!”

“So, we have our 10 regional winners, but that still leaves us five seats to fill. Which means it’s time to find our ‘wonderful wildcards’!” Trixie declares.

“That’s right,” Joe picks up the explanation, “we’re looking for wor wowwers: people who impressed us with the way they took on the dares and made us want to have them on the show.”

“It was a really tough call, trying to pick just 5 from all those we saw, but, in the end, we found a collection of ‘wildcards’ that we think truly are wonderful!” Trixie continues. “But before we bring them on, let’s take a look at them in action!”

The latest montage begins, and we see shots of the chosen ‘wildcards’. Some we recognise instantly from having seen them already, whilst others we either haven’t so far seen or they weren’t distinctive enough in their previous appearance to really remember. The montage continuously jumps back and forth between the five people, and, as it goes on, we become familiar with the five ‘wonderful wildcards’, …

… there is the young woman on Bournemouth beach happily chewing on seaweed, before pausing and pulling a sea-snail out of her mouth, looking at it and then eating it …

… we see another less-familiar young woman trying desperately and repeatedly to force herself to eat pieces of a pig’s heart, but having to spit it out each time …

… a man we haven’t seen before, slightly older than most of the people on the show, appears to be trying to cram several pieces of eel into his mouth, ever more frantically each time we return to him, in an attempt to stay in with a chance of winning the London audition …

… and, staying in London, we see our eel re-constructor at work once more, taking pieces from various other plates and meticulously piecing them together on the table in front of her…

… there’s the young woman dismembering her haggis and spreading its contents over the table in front of her; and it is with her that the montage comes to an end when the words ‘this is shit’ are emblazoned across the screen in mince as the culprit leans on the table next to her work, her mouth turned down, disconsolately, but with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Weren’t they something else!?” Trixie remarks, as the audience whoop their appreciation. “So, let’s bring out our ‘wonderful wildcards’! … 21-year-old sales assistant from Weymouth, Mia! …”

“… From Solihull, 23-year-old sales assistant, Jaz! …” Joe continues,

“… From Croydon,” Trixie says, “32-year-old store manager, Keenan, …”

“… 26-year-old paediatric care assistant from Tottenham,” says Joe, “it’s Shanumi ...”

“… And,” concludes Trixie, “from Greenock, 22-year-old lab technician, Eilidh!”

As each of the names is called out, the next ‘wonderful wildcard’ walks out to raucous applause. It is instantly apparent that, however well the regional winners have done to get onto the show, it is these five who are most likely to become audience favourites, though Ayla may provide some tough competition in that particular contest!

The five ‘wildcards’ stand in a line, as the applause dies down, waiting for Trixie and Joe to have a quick word with each of them.

“Welcome along, Mia!” begins Joe. “How was the snail?”

The petite girl laughs, her face lighting up, and her dark curls dancing in time to the movement of her shoulders that her laughter creates. “Crunchy,” she tells Joe, “but okay!”

“After you took it out,” Joe says, asking the question we all want answered, “what on earth made you put it back in and eat it?”

“I dunno,” Mia confesses, “it just kind of happened! A spur-of-the-moment thing, you know?!”

“Jaz,” Trixie says, “you weren’t giving up with that pig’s heart, were you?!”

Jaz smiles. She is a little taller than Mia and has an athletic build that looks good in the elaborately-patterned t-shirt that she’s wearing with her jeans. Her brown shoulder-length hair has been pulled back and held in place by a hairband, to reveal her full face. “No,” she tells Trixie, “I really wanted to get on the show, so I knew I had to eat it, but I just couldn’t physically swallow it. It just kept getting stuck in my throat.”

“Well you’re here now, anyway,” Trixie tells her, “and we’re very glad to have you with us!”

Jaz smiles again as the camera switches its attention to Joe and Keenan. Being a little older, he has chosen to go with the look that is generally referred to as ‘smart-casual’. In his case, this means a pair of navy chinos and a sky-blue polo shirt. It goes well with his clean-shaven face and neat, short haircut.

“I take it you were fairly desperate to win as well, Keenan!” Joe says.

“I was,” Keenan agrees, “I’m naturally very competitive, so there was no way I wanted to be beaten. But Tariq over there was just too good for me on the day!”

“So, you’re here to win the overall title, then?” Joe asks.

“Oh, definitely,” says Keenan, “I’m only ever in it to win it!”

Trixie moves on to the next of the ‘wildcards’, the black girl who spent her audition piecing together bits of eel. She is tall, almost matching Joe for height, and has a full figure. Her braided hair cascades down to her shoulders, and the colour of the beads matches the brilliant-white of her smile. “Shanumi,” Trixie says, “what was all that about with the eel?”

Shanumi breaks into a fit of giggles, but quickly composes herself and answers, “I knew there was no way I could eat that stuff, so I just thought I might as well do something to pass the time, you know?!”

“Is animal reconstruction some kind of hobby, maybe?” Trixie suggests, tongue firmly in cheek.

After another giggle, Shanumi replies, “No, it was definitely a one-off thing!”

“Well, Eilidh,” Joe says, “what have you got to say for yourself?”

“I’m really sorry!” Eilidh apologises to Joe and to the nation. She looks pleadingly for forgiveness, with her baby-blue eyes tugging at the viewers’ heart-strings. She has long, dark hair, and a pretty face, which makes her look several years younger than her actual age. She is lithe, and has slender arms and legs, which she is showing off in a sleeveless top and short skirt ensemble.

“You didn’t seem like you were enjoying the day!” Joe comments.

“No, I was,” Eilidh corrects him, “it’s just that I’m a vegetarian, so when you’s lot plonked the haggis in front of me I knew I had no chance and that I’d wasted my time coming. So, I took my frustration out the only way I could think of!”

“So, you were reviewing the haggis,” Joe clarifies, “not the show!”

“Oh definitely,” confirms Eilidh, “the show’s gonnae be brilliant!”

“Everyone, give it up one more time for our ‘wonderful wildcards’!” cries Trixie, to a tumultuous round of applause.

“So, the chairs are filled,” remarks Joe, as the camera pans across the faces of the 15 daredevils, “and we’re ready to let the dares commence!”

“Yes, so, join us next week when our daredevils take on their first dare, as they seek to become Britain’s Most Daring!” Trixie concludes.

The two presenters wave to the camera as it pulls out to a wide shot showing everyone on stage, and the credits roll as the screen fades to black behind them.

We all look at each other, waiting for someone to say something.

“Well, I enjoyed that!” I remark.

“Me too,” agrees Maddie, “I can’t wait for next week’s show! You’ll watch it as well, won’t you, Dad?!”

Her father nods. “Yeah,” he says, “it will be interesting to see what the regular format is, now that the auditions are over!”

“I told you it’d be brilliant!” Lissie reminds us, with a satisfied smile on her face.

[alli55]

When Phil came back from the newsagents with his Sunday paper, he had a somewhat smug look on his face. He gave me an enquiring glance as he placed the paper on the kitchen table and took off his coat. “Where are the girls?” he asked.

“In there,” I told him, pointing to the living room, “Maddie’s helping Lissie choose her options for next year.”

Our youngest daughter will be moving into Year 9 next September, starting to work towards her GCSEs. The current Year 8s have been tasked with choosing their options for next year, over the Easter holidays. When she’d asked for some advice, Lissie had got next-to-no help from her useless form tutor, who had simply pointed her in the direction of the GCSE Options page of the school website. This contained a complicated-looking set of tables that outlined the provisional subject plans for Year 9, which she was expected to use to choose her options. With Maddie having already been through this process a few years ago, Lissie had called upon her big sister’s knowledge and experience to help her out.

Phil nodded and went to hang his coat on one of the hooks by the front door. He returned for his paper, then went into the living room. I knew something was about to happen, so I followed him in, intrigued. The girls were on the sofa; Lissie had her laptop open and Maddie was busy moving her finger around its touchpad.

Their father unfolded his paper, before plopping it down on the sofa next to Maddie. “There you are,” he said, triumphantly, “what did I tell you?!”

They looked up at him, only to find him directing their attention to the newspaper. I could just make out the headline from where I was standing: ‘Channel 4 plumbs new depths’ it screamed, before adding, in slightly smaller print, ‘Outrage at offensive ‘dare’’.

The girls read the headline, then looked back at their Dad, waiting for the rant that they (and I) were fully expecting to spew forth. Remarkably, it didn’t arrive!

“Well, after last night, you know what it’ll say,” he told them, calmly, “I just thought I’d show you, so you know it wasn’t just me and your Mam over-reacting!”

“We never thought it was!” Maddie told him. “We know you aren’t uptight and prudish like some people, so if you think something’s offensive, then we know it almost certainly is!”

“Oh,” Phil replied, caught off-guard by his eldest daughter’s candidness, “thank-you, Maddie!”

“You’re welcome!” she smiled. “Just because I’m a teenager, doesn’t mean I don’t respect you and Mam, and agree with a lot of what you think and say. In fact, when I have kids of my own, I want to be as good a parent to them as you two are to us!”

I felt myself welling up, and, looking at Phil, I could see Maddie had hit an emotional nerve in him, too.

“Come here and let me give you a big hug!” he told Maddie, who readily complied. Lissie looked at me. Her expression told me, loud and clear, that she didn’t want to be left out of this family moment, so I opened my arms wide and invited her to me. She pushed her laptop off her lap and bounded over, pressing herself tightly against me, as I wrapped my arms around her.

The following day, Britain’s Most Daring was all over the news, with more and more people publicly taking umbrage at the tasteless paintballing dare. Both BBC and ITV had features on it during their breakfast shows, with various commentators and public figures invited in to express their disgust. A little later, This Morning’s Eamonn Holmes looked distinctly uncomfortable whilst interviewing one of Britain’s Most Daring’s producers, who refused to apologise and actually tried to defend the dare and the showing of it on national TV. It was “a sign,” he told his stunned interviewer, “of how far society in Northern Ireland has moved on, that the dare has been so well-received.” Needless to say, that well-known home of self-restraint, Twitter, went into outraged meltdown in no time at all.

Maddie spent the day at Stacie’s on Wednesday, and was told all about Stacie’s day at the studio last Saturday watching her sister, Gemma, take part in Britain’s Most Daring. But, despite persistent questioning, Stacie wouldn’t say much about what happens next. The one thing she did reveal was that Gemma had been filmed at work during the week.

“I expect she’s been told not to let people know too much, otherwise the programme would be spoiled by people going on Facebook or Twitter or whatever and telling everyone what is going to happen on the show,” I told Maddie, when she griped about Stacie not telling her. “You’ll just have to wait till Saturday to find out. Remember what you told Lissie about not wanting to spoil the surprise? Well, it’s the same thing!”

Maddie was bright enough to realise that, however much she wanted to know what Gemma was up to, she would rather watch the show and be surprised like the programme’s producers intended their viewers to be.

Wednesday was also the day that the professional outrage reached its zenith. During a visit to a factory, somewhere or other, the Prime Minister was dragged into the debate. Theresa May was asked whether she thought that “Channel 4 should publicly apologise to the people of Northern Ireland for the tasteless and offensive nature of the programme, and pull Britain’s Most Daring from its schedule.” As is so often the case, the Prime Minister dodged the question, simply saying that it was for individual broadcasters to judge the suitability of the material they show to the public.

For their part, Channel 4 issued a statement that took a lot of words to not really say anything, in the way that PR people are so talented at: ‘Channel 4 would like to apologise if any viewers felt that there were scenes in the recent Britain’s Most Daring programme that might be construed to have pushed the boundaries of the public’s perception of the appropriate broadcasting standards, with regard to material that some viewers may have found to be more challenging than they were expecting on a show whose title gives an indication of what might be reasonably considered that it may contain; it was not the intention of either Channel 4 or the makers of Britain’s Most Daring that any viewers should consider the programme material to be in any way likely to cause anyone watching to be offended by elements within the show, which is primarily a light-hearted entertainment show that can be enjoyed by all the family.’ There, that told ’em!

By the time Saturday had come around again, the notoriety that Britain’s Most Daring had gained as a result of the ongoing furore, meant that the viewing figures for the second show were guaranteed to be a lot higher than those for the first show had been. As the old adage goes, there’s no such thing as bad publicity!

[alli55]

With Gemma on the show, of course, we need no other reason than that to tune in, though I will admit to having a slight morbid fascination to see whether Channel 4 will again dare to cross the line of acceptability. Perhaps the clue’s in the show’s title! I know Phil shares this curiosity, in the same way that you can’t help but look at a car-crash as you go past. But, as for the girls, well, it’s all about Gemma – nothing else matters!

So, here we are, all sitting and waiting for 8 o’clock, eagerly anticipating Gemma’s next TV appearance. Well, three of us are sitting; Lissie is once again sprawled over the floor with her pillow for comfort! As before, her foot is wiggling away nicely!

“This is it!” she announces, when the adverts appear to have come to an end.

“Next on Channel 4, it’s the new gameshow that everyone’s talking about, Britain’s Most Daring. If you have a complaint about the contents of this evening’s programme, please write to BBC Television Centre, London …”

The opening titles for Channel 4’s new edgy gameshow interrupt the announcer’s tongue-in-cheek introduction. This week they show a mixture of the images used in the titles last week and some bits from the regional auditions that have been added in. As the titles come to their finale, we hear the studio audience’s applause, which dies down as the screen fades to black and a caption in white writing appears: ‘Last week on Britain’s Most Daring …’

A montage follows, showing highlights of the previous week’s show. In a dizzying array of rapidly-changing images we see: people being gunged with icy water, batter mix, and cowpats; various people poking, prodding, and, just occasionally, eating lumps of different raw meats; a man picking a key out of a bucket of animal poo; people being thrown off the end of a pier into the sea; a woman with bits of pig’s heart falling out of her mouth; an embarrassed flame-haired young lad being kissed on the cheek by a raven-haired beauty of womanhood, as a large dragon pats his head; a young woman putting a snail into her mouth and eating it; people walking across a bed of nails and a tray of burning embers; a young black woman reconstructing an eel from various chopped-up pieces; an overweight lad in a bright blue flowery bikini top that appears reluctant to cover his moobs; and a middle-aged man being shot with paintball pellets. Interspersed with all this madness are mugshots of the 15 successful wannabes, each image on screen for no more than a second. The montage comes to an abrupt end with the phrase ‘this is shit’ spelt out in some sort of minced stuff on a table.

The audience applauds again, and we see the two presenters standing side by side. Trixie is wearing a black boob tube top with tight-fitting jeans; Joe has on a subtle variation of last week’s outfit, keeping the slightly-worn skinny jeans but now accompanying it with a lime-green t-shirt.

Waiting for the applause to die down before she starts to speak, Trixie begins her introduction. “Hello, and welcome to Britain’s Most Daring, with me, Trixie Stonehill, …”

“… and me, Joe Denecker,” comes the familiar reply from her co-presenter.

“Wow, Joe!” exclaims Trixie. “I can hardly believe we packed all that into last week’s show!”

“I know,” Joe replies, “but I tell you what I canna believe!”

“Go on!” Trixie encourages.

“After the all fuss in the papers and on TV, like,” Joe explains, “I canna believe they’ve let us come back this week to do it all again!”

“I know what you mean!” Trixie agrees.

“At one point there,” Joe goes on, “I thought we were all going to be locked in the Tower or excommunicated or something!”

“Hmmm,” Trixie reflects for a moment, “I think that’s something only the Pope can do, and I’m not sure he was watching last week!”

“Really? Whyever not?” Joe asks, incredulously. “Come on, your Popeness, get your act together, man! You don’t know what you’re missing!” Trixie rolls her eyes as Joe continues, “I mean, I have it on good authority that The Queen watched it! So if it’s good enough for Her Maj, then surely His Popeness can take a look!”

An exasperated Trixie asks, “Have you quite finished?”

“I think so!” Joe tells her.

“And who on earth told you that The Queen watched last week’s show?”

“I’m not at liberty to say!”

“It was your mate, Jimmy, wasn’t it?”

Joe adopts a slightly aloof posture, as he reveals, “It might have been!”

“Well, I suggest you pay less attention to his idle tittle-tattle,” Trixie advises, “and concentrate on the more important matter at hand!”

“Which is?”

“The fact that we’re back, despite everything!”

“Which,” Joe repeats, “I canna believe they’ve let us do!”

“Well they have, and we’re here, and we’ve got so much to get through! So, let’s crack on!” says Trixie. “If you thought last week was crazy, well, just wait till you see what we’ve got for you this week! After last week’s dare-fest at our regional auditions, we have our 15 wannabe winners, all hoping to be crowned Britain’s Most Daring.”

“Each week wor daredevils will be given a new dare to complete,” Joe continues to explain, “and on this show, if you flop you’re dropped!”

Trixie continues, “Every week we’ll be losing the person who is judged to have performed their dares least successfully, until we end up with just one person left: Britain’s Most Daring.”

“Last week, we discovered wor 10 regional winners,” Joe reminds us, “and chose wor 5 wowwers, wor ‘wonderful wildcards’. Their journey has just begun, but for one of them it’s going to come to a crashing halt very quickly!”

Trixie explains what happens next. “After last week’s show, our 10 regional winners and 5 ‘wonderful wildcards’ were ready to be given their first dare. Let’s see how that went!”

The screen shows the 15 daredevils sat in their three rows of chairs, with the two presenters, in last week’s outfits, stood in front and to one end of the rows.

The on-screen Trixie continues the explanation. “So, we have our 15 daredevils, all ready to take up their first dare on the way to becoming Britain’s Most Daring. Are you ready, everyone?” she asks them. They variously nod their heads and/or say “yes”.

Joe takes over. “Okay, there are two different dares this week, which, for the moment, we’ll call ‘A’ and ‘B’. Each of you has already taken an envelope at random, inside which is either the letter ‘A’ or the letter ‘B’. That will determine which dare each of you has been given! Is that clear?” Again, they all indicate in one way or another that it is.

“Alright everyone, open your envelopes!” Trixie instructs. “And show us what you’ve got!”

They rip open the envelopes, take a look at their letter, and then hold it up facing the camera. We can easily see that there are roughly equal numbers of ‘A’s and ‘B’s; the more pernickety viewers can count 8 ‘A’s and 7 ‘B’s.

We all look to see which dare Gemma has got. She is holding up a card with the letter ‘B’ on it.

“Okay,” Joe continues, “to tell you what dares you’ll be facing, it’s time to hear from wor very own Dare Deliverer!”

An authoritative woman’s voice, which manages to sound sultry at the same time, is heard in the studio and at home. “For your first dare I want you to meet new people! But not as yourself; as someone different! If you picked dare ‘A’, you are to be some sort of famous person or celebrity, and you must convince as many strangers as you can of that fact! Those of you with dare ‘B’, well, you are a foreigner, from abroad ,somewhere, and you must keep up that ruse for as long as you can! Be bold! Be daring! And just for this week, forget what Gloria Gaynor sang: you’re not what you are; you are what you’re not! Have fun, my little daredevils!”

“Oh my God!” exclaims Lissie. “She’s got to pretend to be a foreigner!”

“She was quite good with her languages at school, wasn’t she?” I remember aloud.

“Yes!” Maddie confirms. “She got French and German at GCSE, I think.”

“I think she’ll be okay with this!” I tell the others.

We see lots of the daredevils checking again to see which dare they’ve got, now they know what the dares are. Some seem relaxed about the dares, while one or two are looking a little more apprehensive than they were a minute ago.

Gemma, we notice, is still looking relaxed.

“So,” Trixie tells them, “you know your dares. You’ve got the next 6 days to complete them as well as you can! Off you go!”

The filmed segment comes to an end as the daredevils begin to get up and wander off.

Back live in the studio, Trixie takes up where the filmed version of her had left off. “So, they’ve spent the last 6 days taking on their first dare. But before we see how they got on, let’s meet our DAPAs!”

“DAPAs?” asks Joe, setting Trixie up neatly for her to explain the term to the viewing public. “What on earth’s a DAPA when it’s at home?”

“A DAPA,” Trixie discloses, “is a Dare Attempt Performance Analyst. They’ll be watching the attempts our daredevils make to complete their dares and giving them a score out of 10. The three with the lowest overall scores will have to take part in our Live Dare-Off to see who has to leave the show.”

“Okay, I get it,” Joe says, “so, who are wor DAPAs?”

A man and a woman, both in their twenties and both dressed smartly in sharp suits, are shown on-screen. They look seriously into the camera as Trixie introduces them.

“Well, there’s DAPA Dan and DAPA Danielle!” she tells us and Joe.

The two DAPAs nod to the camera as Joe comments, “I can see why we’re calling them DAPAs!”

“Okay, our DAPAs are primed and ready,” Trixie announces, “after the break we’ll let them loose on the dare performances this week! Join us, when we come back, on Britain’s Most Daring!”

“Wow! That’s impressive!” declares Phil, with a heavy hint of sarcasm in his voice. “A show about dares that’s gone through its entire first part without showing a dare!”

“That’s not strictly true!” I point out. “We saw lots of dares in the highlights from last week.”

“One-nil, Mam!” cries Maddie, with a twinkle in her eye and a big grin on her face.

“Technically, we didn’t!” Phil informs me. “We saw tiny clips of dares, not the entire things!”

“One-all! Can Mam re-take the lead?” Maddie says, as her sister collapses in a fit of giggles.

“Maddie, you’re not helping!” I tell her.

“Oh, no!” she declares. “Mam’s missed a great opportunity there!” Lissie is in hysterics.

“And before you say,” my husband continues, sensing his moment of victory, “lots of little clips of dares don’t add up to make a whole dare!”

Maddie adopts the excited voice of a football commentator: “Oh, that’s incredible! Dad has snatched a winner right at the end! Would you believe it?!”

Poor Lissie is holding her aching sides, she is laughing so hard!

[alli55]

Once she’s recovered, Lissie reveals that she’s a little puzzled by the DAPAs. “Mam,” she asks, though why she picks me and not her father I don’t know, “what did Joe mean when he said he could see why they were called DAPAs?”

“Okay, well, …” I begin, before giving her a fairly lengthy explanation of what dapper means and why, therefore, the DAPAs are dressed smartly in suits.

“Oh right,” she says, when I’ve finished, “I get it now!”

“It’s a nice twist on the usual panel of judges!” remarks Phil. I get the feeling that the more he watches the more he likes Britain’s Most Daring, despite his assertion that we haven’t seen any dares yet this week.

“Welcome back to Britain’s Most Daring!” says Trixie, for once omitting to tell us her name. “We’re all ready to get the first dares underway! So, let’s see how our daredevils got on! Joe …?”

“As always, your wish is my command!” he grins at Trixie, who sucks her bottom lip in and shakes her head. “We’re going to take a look at how James got on, first. So, over to Mairie!”

The film begins with Mairie and James sitting on a bench in a pleasant-looking park on what is clearly quite a cold day, since they are both wrapped up in thick coats. They appear to be casually chatting as the camera keeps zooming in until they fill the frame. On cue, Mairie looks up, so that we can see her face, as she begins to question James.

“So, James, you’ve had 36 hours to mull over your dare;” she begins, “what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I’m in trouble already!” James replies.

“How so?” Mairie asks.

“I’ve got just about the strongest accent going, so how am I going to sound like a foreigner? That’s what I’m wondering!”

“And, have you any ideas?”

“Yes, a friend of a friend is a voice coach, so I’m hoping she can help!”

Mairie’s voiceover accompanies the next segment of the film, as the scene changes and we see James arriving at an ordinary-looking suburban semi-detached house.

“James’ friend-of-a-friend, voice coach Niamh, is indeed keen to help,” Mairie tells us.

We see and hear James and Niamh getting James to try out various different accents, to find out if he has a chance with any of them. His French accent isn’t anything to write home about, but we begin to appreciate it more once we’ve heard him mangle several other accents. His American accent quickly morphs into his normal speech; his Australian accent becomes a sing-song version of his normal voice; and his German accent sounds like the sort of thing you might have heard if Ian Paisley had joined the Gestapo!

“Shall I try a Caribbean accent?” he asks Niamh.

She shakes her head. “I’m not sure the world is quite ready for that, James!” she tells him.

“After some time, they decide that his best hope is to put on a fake Italian accent and hope for the best!” explains Mairie.

“Mamma Mia!” we hear James exclaiming. “Mamma Mia! Ma-mma Mi-ia!” His Ulster accent is still dominating any Italian that may be trying to come through!

“Niamh turns out to be much more useful than James expects!” Mairie reveals. “She’s involved in a conference that is taking place later this week, and she says she can get him a spot to give a 5-minute talk.”

“If I register you as, I don’t know, Giuseppe Ravioli or something, …” Niamh begins.

“Giuseppe Ravioli?!” James says, and the two of them roar with laughter.

“Well, something Italian sounding,” she continues, when they have settled themselves again, “and you can give your talk in your best fake Italian accent!”

“That’d be brilliant if you could do that,” James enthuses, “because that’ll give me a whole load of people to count towards my dare!” He gives the camera a smile and a thumbs-up.

Mairie’s voiceover continues, while we see a series of shots of James practising his Italian accent in a number of different locations.

“Niamh has managed to get James a 5-minute slot at the conference, so now it’s up to him to make his accent as convincing as possible.”

The scene changes to the conference venue. The compere is introducing the next talk.

“Next, Signor Umberto Landini will give a brief insight into Italian business management processes,” he says.

James raises his eyebrows to the camera, before walking towards the platform. He looks nervous, as well he might! He reaches the platform and places his talk on the lectern.

“’Allo,” he begins, “good-a afternoon, ladies and-a gentlamen! As-a you know, I’m-a try to talk-a to you about-a da bus-i-ness in-a Italia.”

The scene fades out and back in to indicate the passage of time. James is still going.

“So, in-a de way everything is-a similar but it-a take maybe a bit-a more time than-a you izpect-a.”

James’s talk continues in the background as Mairie’s voiceover resumes.

“Somehow, James manages to keep going for the full 5-minutes, but does he actually convince anyone? I’ve come along, posing as a delegate, so afterwards I check things out.”

The screen shows Mairie talking to a conference attendee. “What did you think of Signor Landini?” she asks the man with greying hair.

“He didn’t really say anything useful, so what was the point of coming from Italy for that?” the man replies.

Mairie asks the same question to two more delegates and each is equally scathing of the lack of information, but neither gives any indication that they have rumbled James.

The film ends with Mairie asking James, “So, James, how do you think that went.”

“It was-a better than-a I thought-a!” James replies, with a twinkle in his eye. “Ciao!”

The audience whoop and clap as the film ends and we return to the studio. During the film, James has taken his place in the rows of chairs. Joe and Trixie are stood next to him.

Trixie touches James gently on the arm and says, “Was that as excruciating as it looked?”

“Probably more so!” James confides. “It was just the worst possible dare I could have got!”

“But it looks like you pulled it off!” she remarks.

“I’m surprised!” admits James. “But, yes, it looks like I might have done!”

“Or maybe not!” interrupts Joe. “Take a look at this!”

Mairie is talking with another delegate, a man in his fifties, by the look of him.

“Was that guy for real?” he asks. “He sounded more like that guy who had that stupid hit record years ago, … oh, what was his name?”

Mairie looks at him, unable to help, since she has no idea who he’s referring to!

“…oh, I can see him now, silly hat, even sillier grin,” he continues, “… ohhh, …”

She continues to wait patiently. Then, suddenly, the moment of recollection occurs.

“Joe Dolce!” the man exclaims. “Joe Dolce, that was him! That’s who Signor So-Called-Landini sounded like! Joe Dolce!”

“James …?” says Joe, mischievously.

“I’ve only got one thing to say to him!” James replies.

“What’s that?” asks Joe.

“Shaddap a-your face!” James grins.

There is a smattering of laughter from the audience, as those of a certain vintage get James’ reference to the title of Joe Dolce’s hit record. For the rest, it goes way over their heads!

“So, now do you think you’ve done well enough?” Trixie asks.

“I don’t know,” James says, “maybe! I’ll be glad just to get enough points to keep me out of the Dare-Off!”

“Well, let’s see what our DAPAs think!” says Trixie.

The DAPAs each press a button on their handheld keypads, and their score, out of 10, appears on the screens above each of their heads: 7 from both Dan and Danielle, giving James a total of 14. He looks extremely relieved. That score, surely, will keep him safe.

“I’m amazed!” he tells Trixie, when she asks for his reaction to the DAPAs’ verdict. “And very relieved! It’s great!”

“Our daredevils are taking on their first dare,” Trixie reminds us, “and we’ve just seen James pass with flying colours.”

“Fantastico!” agrees Joe, in his broad Geordie accent!

“Let’s see how some of the others have been getting on,” Trixie continues, “starting with Bex and Shanumi, who are both trying to convince strangers that they are famous!”

We see a montage of clips of the two women approaching various random people and bluntly asking if these people recognise them. No-one does; and Bex’s lack of success is not helped by her Brummie accent, as one particularly cynical man informs her: “You’re not famous, not with a voice like that; your voice is designed to stop you from becoming a celebrity!” Shanumi, however, after a couple of failures early in the montage, appears to adopt new tactic. Her later appearances see her get out of a stretch limo, which we assume she has hired, dressed in a fake fur coat with sunglasses casually placed over her head. At the very least, it draws people’s attention each time it pulls up and she gets out. We see a few people stop and stare, but then walk off when they fail to recognise who this apparent celebrity actually is. However, the montage ends with her posing for selfies for an excited group of young oriental tourists, who have clearly decided that she is famous enough to snap themselves with.

Once more, during the filmed segment, the relevant daredevils have come on and are now seated in convenient end-of-row chairs ready to talk to Joe and Trixie.

“Bex,” Trixie begins, “that looked tough!”

“Yeah, I don’t think my accent helps!” Bex admits. “I couldn’t think of anyone who’s famous with an accent like this!”

“Jasper Carrott?” suggests Joe.

“Who?” asks Bex.

“Never mind!” Joe replies.

“How do you think you’ve done?” asks Trixie.

“Really badly?” guesses Bex. “I think I need to start preparing for the Dare-Off!”

“Oh dear, that bad!” Trixie sympathises. “Well, let’s see if the DAPAs are more impressed than you think!”

The DAPAs deliver the damning verdict Bex expects: both Dan and Danielle giving her just 2 out of 10, for a total score of 4.

“I thought so!” she says, resigned to her fate. The audience applaud sympathetically, but there is a hint of embarrassment about their muted reaction. Bex tries to put a brave face on it.

“Shanumi,” Joe asks, “whose idea was the limo?”

“I just thought ‘what makes famous people look famous?’,” Shanumi reveals, “and it’s all the flash stuff, like limos and fur coats and that.”

“Well it certainly seemed to help!” Joe remarks. “You were a hit with the tourists!”

“Oh my God, I was so lucky with them,” Shanumi explains, “they all just like got off this coach just as me and my limo pulled up, and they were like ‘who’s this’ so I played the part, and it was like ‘boom’ everyone wanted a selfie with me!” She is unable to continue as a fit of the giggles overcomes her.

“Great stuff!” comments Trixie. “But before we go over to the DAPAs, we’ve got something to show you!”

We see a screenshot from a Twitter account appear on-screen. To maintain anonymity, all account names have been blacked out. The image on the screenshot is enlarged to highlight a picture of Shanumi, dressed in her fake fur and sunglasses, posing for a selfie with an eager young oriental teenage girl. Underneath the picture we see the tweet itself: ‘just seen some minor celeb promoting herself #whoareyou’. The audience laugh when they read the tweet.

Trixie says nothing, simply allowing Shanumi to react to the tweet.

“Oh my God, that is well out of order!” she exclaims. “I can’t believe that! That is so not right!”

“How will that affect your score?” wonders Joe. “Let’s ask the DAPAs!”

Clearly impressed with Shanumi’s performance, and seemingly unconcerned about the tweet, both the DAPAs award 8 points, putting her in the lead so far on 16. She squeals with delight at the high score, which earns her generous applause from the audience.

“Well done, Shanumi!” Trixie says. “You go top of the leader-board, but it’s early days! Join us after the break for lots more dares on Britain’s Most Daring!”

“I think Gemma’s got the easier of the two dares!” Phil announces.

“D’you think so, Dad?” asks Maddie, who clearly isn’t so sure. “Why?”

“Well you saw just then how hard it is to make someone think you’re famous,” her father explains.

“Yeah, but pretending to be foreign isn’t easy!” she points out.

“No, but at least you can have a normal conversation. I mean, how do you tell someone you’re famous? You can’t just go up to them and say ‘I’m a celebrity’.”

“Get me out of here!” completes Lissie, unhelpfully.

“Yeah, I think you’re right!” Maddie tells her dad. “And she’ll be good at it!”

“Let’s hope so!” I say.