THE numbers 101, 160, 302, 340, 401, 440 and 390 are etched on my mind. They do not form a regular seven-number gamble in some bizarre alternative lottery, nor are they the numbers of the buses I have to catch in order to complete some complicated and extremely long journey. Sadly, they are also not my top seven cricketing scores.
The numbers actually represent a long-term addiction. It’s something I can’t fight and something I can’t do without for at least 10 minutes a day, wherever I am. Whatever the time, if I haven’t had it that day, I have to do something about it.
I am, of course, talking about Ceefax and Teletext, the TV news and entertainment service formerly known as Oracle.
Addiction started when we got our first text-friendly TV when I was about 12. Fantastic. Within weeks I had worked out where every section was, and could find my way around the system in double quick time.
One hundred and one for the latest news, 160 for the local, 302 (BBC) and 401 (ITV)for football (don’t try watching a TV programme when a goal update can occur at any moment. Yes, I’m aware I could obtain this information elsewhere, but . . .), 340 for cricket then over to Channel 4 for the music news (then 440, now 341) and maybe BBC2 (533) for the charts, then the real business could begin — and still does.
For page 390 — it used to be 140 — on Channel 4 is Bamboozle, the textual quiz presented by virtual host Bamber Boozler, who many mistakenly believe is based on former University Challenge mainman Bamber Gascoigne, but whose name is actually derived from the word bamboozle and appearance based on Mastermind’s late question-master Magnus Magnusson.
The 12 question quiz, with four options for each, has brought me euphoria (the occasional 12/12) and crushing disappointment (11 from 11, then bottling the final one), as well as causing me to doubt my own intelligence. How can you possibly score nought out of 12 when complete guesswork should on average net you three correct answers?
I have even taken to competing against my partner on a daily basis, with the one scoring the most points at the end of each month emerging victorious. She is currently in the lead, which means she is clearly cheating on a regular basis.
The addiction is so bad that, when on holiday (excepting trips abroad), one of the first things I do on arrival at a hotel or B&B is press the text button.
I mention all of this because I believe it goes completely against the general make-up of my personality. I don’t understand the reasoning behind other “saddo” (I use quotes because someone pointed out to me that the people involved are generally quite happy) habits/hobbies/obsessions such as train spotting or stamp collecting. Yet, if someone was to reveal to me that they collected football programmes, team shirts or fine whisky or wine, for example, I would be entirely fine with this and would defend their right to continue.
I’m not even sure it’s a case of me being some kind of heroic defender of people’s rights to live as they choose — there is just something plain wrong with being a trainspotter, although admittedly it ranks as being a very male thing to be alongside, say, a football statistician or someone who remembers the name of a bass player in a band that had one minor hit 20 years ago. Who needs the net for that when the answer could very well be just one press of a text button away?
Bamboozle — page 390, Channel 4 (a different quiz every day, though Saturday’s is hosted by his son Buster, so is a little bit easy, and sometimes there is a guest presenter such as Paul Heaton, former singer with the Beautiful South). It could very well be the change in life (when the remote control Fast-text buttons were introduced, mine certainly changed) you are looking for. Or it could ruin your relationship.