A few days ago was the 19th anniversary of Lisa's game.
Lisa has box 1 on this Monday afternoon. She's a keen gambler. She doesn't know whether to select her favourite numbers first or leave them until later; 19 and 11, for the year 1911 presumably or someone's birthday, she doesn't bother specifying, will remain unopened until further notice.
The first round is very sedate; nobody cracks any jokes, nobody has anything interesting to say - or anything at all to say, come to think of it. £20,000 goes, £75,000, then £5,000, with a few blues. Noel asks Marcus about his hangover. Marcus replies that he was still drinking yesterday. The Banker phones. He offers £3,000. Lisa says it's quite a good offer. She says No Deal.
Round 2. £100,000 disappears, then £10,000. Noel says a few words. Lisa says a few words. We may as well be playing billiards at this point, because the monotony level is off the chart... Noel looks at the camera and wonders whether the next box will be an 'ooh' or an 'ahh'. Will it be an ooh, or an ahh? Apparently, we'll have to come back after the break, to see whether it'll be our favourite noise. No, I'm not following this either. We come back from the break, and the final box is £100. Lisa goes to select Candice, but Noel reminds her of the fact that this round is three boxes, all of which she's chosen. Candice looks concerned for her welfare, and also rather puzzled. Nobody in the studio seems happy to be there. The atmosphere is flatter than the current heartrate of my great-great-great-great-grandfather.
The Banker phones, and offers £1,200. Noel asks Lisa if she wishes to deal or not. She does not. Round 3. 10p, £35,000 and £5 leave the board. There's some discussion between Noel and the Banker, of a strange and bewildering nature. Noel puts the phone down and reveals that the Banker has offered £9,000. I think Lisa asks a few people for advice here - Germaine, Lucy, and one or two others - but I can't be sure I've remembered that correctly. Either way, she declines the offer.
In the next round, £750, £500, and £3,000 depart, and the board now appears strong - not that you'd know it, because Paintworks might as well be a mortuary. The Banker calls, but requests more time from Noel, ostensibly to work out whether Lisa is a genuine gambler or just bluffing. He can't read her poker face. Can't read her, can't read her, no, he can't read her poker face. He calls back, tells Noel that it appears she is for real - and his offer is £20,000.
At this point, Lisa displays the faintest flicker of expression upon that poker face; whether this is an indication of her satisfaction with the offer, or simply of a grim, silent battle against flatulence, it is impossible to tell. She deliberates for a while. She asks for the question, and responds DEAL.
The next three boxes are £15,000, £50,000, and £1,000. Lisa covers her ears, but the offer would've been - in an almost identical situation to that faced by Trevor - £44,000. Of course, it wouldn't have been that high in reality. Lisa appears to grimace, but again, this may or may not have been related to the game of Deal or No Deal which is in progress.
The final three boxes reveal 1p, £250, and £250,000 - the last three amounts which were in play in Trevor's game, coincidentally, and had she played to this stage of the game, Lisa, too, would have suffered the agony of finding the jackpot in her last box. Anyway, the offer would have been £20. Lisa asks Noel what she dealt at - '£20,000?' 'Yep.' There's £1 in her box, and that's the end of the game.
Anyway, I think that paint is just about dry now, so I'm off to watch the grass grow...
_________________ 81st member of the Pat M fan club. Still flying the flag for the class of '06...
Like Tom Hanks and his football on that island in 'Cast Away', it looks like it's just me and the bots here now. But that's alright, we're having a grand old time. Aren't we, Wilson? WILSOOOON?!
A few of us who were once part of the furniture, once stalwarts of the grand and extravagant, exuberant and thriving forum, have receded back into the walls, still faintly visible, still here as poignant, reminding relics of an era gone by; but most of us have vanished, forever immersed in the mists of time.
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