Dead Giveaway

Money. They had all, instead, been offered tickets for a brand-new game show entitled (as far as they were concerned — indeed, as far as everyone except two irate Americans was concerned) If The Cap Fits. There had been few rejections of the offer. After all, television was television, and the show didn’t really matter so much as the fact of actually being there.

For many of them, it was their first visit to a television studio, and they gazed around with fascination at the suspended monitors above their heads and the Dalek-like cameras which patrolled the No Man’s Land between them and the distant red, blue and silver set.

After a while an inexorably cheerful man, who introduced himself as Charlie Hook, bounced on to the set and welcomed them. It was lovely to see so many smiling faces on such a cold night, he asserted. He could see, just by looking at them, that they were going to be a lovely audience, and W.E.T. had got a really lovely show lined up for them that evening. There were a few lovely parties he’d like to say hello to. Was there a party from the Braintree Afternoon Club? Oh yes, there they were! Well, a really big hello to them. Didn’t they look lovely? And were they all set to have a lovely time? Good, yes, that was the spirit. Now, as he said, it was going to be a really lovely show, and to make the show really go with a swing, he wanted to hear lots of lovely laughter and applause from the lovely audience. Would they be lovely enough to oblige him? Good, yes, that was lovely. Now, of course, at W.E.T., they didn’t have little men holding up signs saying ‘LAUGH’ and ‘APPLAUD’. What they were after was spontaneous reactions. On the other hand, there could be one or two moments when the audience might need to be told when these spontaneous reactions were required, her, her. So, if they saw him, Charlie, or one of the Floor Managers. . Ooh, they’d like to meet the Floor Managers, wouldn’t they? Yes, of course they would. Lovely fellows they were, the Floor Managers, lovely fellows. And here they were. Say a lovely big hello. Lovely. So, anyway, if he, Charlie, or one of the Floor Managers raised their arms like this, would they please regard it as a cue to applaud and not a signal that they should leave the room, her, her. Lovely, right, good. Well, it would just be a few minutes before they got on with the show, so perhaps he could tell them a rather lovely story he’d heard a few days before about an Irishman who went into a cafe and ordered a hot dog. .

Eventually, Charlie Hook introduced their lovely host for the evening’s proceedings, someone they all knew very well from countless other shows, one of the loveliest, most genuine people and one of the most popular faces on British Television — Mr — Barrett — Doran!

As soon as he came on to the set, Barrett switched his charm on like a light-bulb. He chatted with members of the audience, told them he felt terribly nervous, reiterated how important their contribution to the success of the evening would be, explained a little about the mechanics of the game and then introduced ‘our four celebrity guests, who will be playing If The Cap Fits with us tonight!’

The celebrities came on, with varying degrees of ostentation, and sat down behind their long blue desk. Barrett Doran told the audience that, once the show started, they would be meeting some delightful (and very plucky!) contestants who had also agreed to take part in If The Cap Fits. He then asked the Floor Manager how ready everyone was to start the recording. Had to check with ‘the boffins in the box’, he explained to the audience. Terrific production team they’d got on the show. Great Executive Producer, John Mantle. Really talented Producer, Jim Trace-Smith. Really great back-up team, as well. All great chums, one big happy family. How about a nice round of applause for all those people out of sight whose contribution was so important in making the evening the success it was absolutely bound to be?

The audience duly applauded.

There were a few more delays, but finally the recording was ready to commence. Members of the audience were advised to watch the monitors rather than the set, because the opening credits were on film. The audience duly gawped up at their monitors. They saw the clock which was used to identify the programme. It was started and ticked away for sixty seconds. For the last three of these the screen went blank.

Animated credits of cartoon figures changing hats appeared. High-pitched jingle voices sang out the words as the title, If The Cap Fits, appeared in silver letters on the screen. A deep, unseen voice intoned portentously, ‘And tonight, on If The Cap Fits, our star prizes include. . a portable video-recorder and lightweight camera. .’

A shot of this hardware, carried by a grinning, bikini-clad Nikki, was shown on the screen. ‘Ooh,’ went the audience, and applauded.

‘. . a champagne weekend for two in Amsterdam. .’

An inappropriate clip of a Dutch windmill appeared. ‘Ooh,’ went the audience, and applauded.

‘. . and tonight’s super-duper star prize — a brand-new Austin Metro with all the extras, plus a full year’s tax, insurance and petrol!’

The Austin Metro appeared on screen. Through its open window a grinning, bikini-clad Linzi waved awkwardly. ‘Aaaaah,’ went the audience, and applauded frantically.

More cartoon figures changed hats. ‘All these could be won tonight by some lucky contestant,’ the voice continued, ‘if the cap fits! And here’s the man who wears a variety of hats with equal success. . Barrett Doran!’

The show’s host bounced, smiling, up to his lectern. The audience gave him an ovation which might have been warranted if he had just invented an antidote to radiation sickness.

‘Hello, hello, and thank you very much. Welcome to If The Cap Fits. And if it doesn’t, well. . keep it under your hat! Thank you, thank you. And without more ado — nice girl, Moira Do, pity she couldn’t be with us tonight. . thank you — without Moira Do, let’s meet our panel of celebrities who are going to find out for themselves tonight. . if the cap fits!

‘First, it’s a great pleasure to welcome that lovely actress, who you all know as Lizzie Parsons from that very funny series, Who’s Your Friend? — Fiona Wakeford!’

The actress simpered prettily in response to the applause.

‘Tell me, Fiona,’ asked Barrett, ‘are you really as dumb as you appear?’

‘Well, no,’ she replied, bewildered. ‘I can talk.’

The audience screamed at this Wildean riposte.

‘Next we have a gentleman who really packs a punch — Nick Jeffries!’

The audience saluted their faded Great White Hope.

‘’Ere!’ The boxer made a fist. ‘I don’t like your attitude.’

The audience hailed another shaft of wit.

‘Actually, Barrett,’ Nick went on as the noise subsided, ‘that reminds me of a joke about a man with a dog. This bloke — ’

‘I make the jokes around here,’ said the host with a smile on his lips and a deterrent steeliness in his eyes. ‘Next, we have a lady who’s brought happiness to millions — and without taking her clothes off, which has to be a novelty — the country’s favourite Agony Aunt — Joanie Bruton!’

The audience roared as she smiled in a brisk, no-nonsense manner.

‘Tell me, Joanie — or may I call you Auntie? — could you help me with a little personal problem that I have?’

‘Perhaps, Barrett.’

‘Well, my trouble is that I keep thinking I’m a pair of curtains. What do you think I should do about it?’

‘Pull yourself together, love.’ Joanie completed the old joke with commendable promptness and the audience howled their appreciation for this devastating sally.

‘Finally, we have a gentleman who never seems to be off your television screen these days, investigating frauds, righting wrongs, standing up for the little man. . you may know him as Joe Soap — Bob Garston!’

The last panellist gave his gritty, proletarian smile as the audience clapped.

‘Tell me, Bob, have you ever come across a major fraud that involved hats?’

‘No, you’re the first one, Barrett.’

The audience bayed with delight, honoured to be participants in this rare feast of wit. ‘Eat your heart out, Congreve,’ they seemed to say.

Barrett Doran’s smile stayed in place, but the reaction of his eyes to Bob Garston’s crack was less genial. ‘And now, as well as this splendid line-up of celebrities, we also have four brave — or should I say foolish? — members of the public who have agreed to be with us tonight to play If The Cap Fits!’

On this cue, one of the high-pitched jingles was played and, under cover of the music, the four contestants,