One of my guiltiest pleasures is frequently watching Deal or No Deal during my days of exile from paid employment. Yesterday was interesting as it featured a particular type of contestant that comes along every now and then, much to my incredulity and amusement.The notion, dear reader, that you may be unaware of the basic premise of Deal or No Deal is but a utopian ideal, so I shan't waste space boring you with the way the game works but you can familiarise yourself with the format on the Wikipedia entry if you've had successful therapy to forget.
Back to yesterday's game and we were faced with a rather rotund woman, who appeared huggable in that comforting way your grandma is or was. A baker, Huggable Kath seemed nice enough and I was willing to set aside my perverse lust for failure (which might do as a subject for psychological analysis in its own right) in what I considered a kind gesture of goodwill. Those welcoming, warm metaphorical arms of mine were soon to be rapidly retired.
As Noel, Cuddly Kath and the gang steadily made progress through the opening couple of rounds, something akin to light drizzle dripping off guttering as a viewing spectacle, all seemed relatively dandy. Sure, she'd taken out more of the reds than the blues prompting Noel to begin dipping into the jargon collection for some of the classic DOND terms and phrases ("YOU JUST LOVE YOUR REDS" in irked tone of voice) but nothing too serious; the Banker was offering relatively good money and by the third offer was up to £13,500.
It was at this point that Fat Kath began to complain of feeling 'unsettled' by the surprise of being chosen as the day's contestant. Noel, earning his crust, began his serious and earnest probing as to exactly what she meant by 'unsettled'. This is a man who, almost without fail, describes each day's game as 'extraordinary' 'exceptional' or, more realistically, 'different' (it is a different contestant each day, after all) and he thrives on players who have 'methods' , ‘attitudes' , 'intuitions' or 'approaches' in relation to the process of opening 22 boxes that have been randomly assigned a monetary value.
All-of-a-fluster Kath did not disappoint him, revealing that she now 'felt out of balance'. "Out of balance... what do you mean by that Kath? Spiritually?" asks Noel. Yes, spiritually, agrees Magic Kath, who then promptly reveals her belief in angels which is enough for Noel to solemnly declare "You are an intensely spiritual person Kath, aren't you." (it should be noted that there's not even a hint of a questioning intonation to this statement.) You might be inclined to ask how Noel deduced such a thing, having only met this woman 20-30 minutes ago whilst recording a TV gameshow. But he just can. It’s amazing watching him work.
After this brief exchange, my hackles are up - I feel like a fisherman who's been sitting languidly by the riverbed, throwing cursory glances at the water, only to suddenly hear the distinct taughtening of the line as my one hope comes to fruition. I'm more interested now.
A commercial break and we come back to find Noel's calmed Confused Kath down a little. She continues to the next offer, still with three of the biggest amounts, £35,000, £100,000 and £250,000 yet to be revealed. The banker offers £18,000.
Contestants plead with Disconcerted Kath to 'believe in herself', as does her daughter. For those of you not in the know, an impassioned speech begging the contestant to ‘believe in themselves’ is the semantic equivalent of 'please gamble' in Deal or No Deal. Big Kath is evidently a proud woman and, slightly indignantly, assures everyone in the room that she does believe in herself. In fact, she believes in herself to the extent that she will heed her ‘spiritual vibes’ despite them contradicting general feeling in the studio. Her ‘spiritual side’ is telling her it's not to be her day. She spends several moments deliberating, and re-iterating that she feels it’s not to be her day; a ‘spiritual intuition’ she's harboured since the offer of £13,500. "Are you in direct contact with them?" Noel half mumbles. "No," says Wise Kath, "I leave that to my daughter," (cut to shot of 30-something daughter in the audience nodding sagely) "but I trust what I'm feeling spiritually." Quite whom Noel's 'them' refers to is never made explicit; the angels? The spirits?… the psychiatric nurses? It’s funny how one set of people hearing voices in their heads have schizophrenia and another set of people hearing voices in their heads are ‘intensely spiritual’. Resigned Kath deals at £18,000, 'knowing' that it's all going to go pear-shaped.
The rest of the game must now be played out to see whether the decision to deal was one that won the contestant, Our Kath, the most amount of money possible. She goes on to eliminate more of the lower amounts of money and the next offer from the banker would have been £56,000. It's Noel to the rescue of Kicking-herself Kath's integrity at this point; "Well your feelings were right - it's not to be your day – not because there was no money in your game but because you were to deal too early." Flabbergasted Kath: "I must have got my wires crossed." That's one thing about those bloody spirits – they still insist on using those archaic, early 20th century telephone switchboards to communicate mentally with clairvoyants like Mystic Kath.
They open the next three boxes so that Ridiculous Kath is left with two boxes, one contains £100 and the other contains £250,000. The banker would have offered £81,000. Embarrassed Kath: "the signals and everything just got so foggy". Isn't it ghosts that are supposed to be a bit foggy? Have they been piggybacking on a conversation that was meant to involve strictly Cauliflower-cortex Kath and the spirits only? It looks like it because, according to Psychic Kath, things have got foggy, and that can only mean one thing; ghosts are getting in the way of her conversation with the spirits. Those bloody ghosts… that bloody conversation with the spirits.
For me of course, this show is already a victory for reason; a contestant confidently spouting complete twaddle, twaddle that not only goes unchecked but is actively encouraged by our indulgent host, has already proven she could have had £63,000 more than she accepted simply by being more rational. But now my jaw drops; Relentless Kath has just smugly asserted that there’s a blue in her box (the £100) as though her correctly guessing a 50/50 chance will suddenly elevate her back to the loftiness of ‘spiritual’ superior. In a matter of moments, Silly Kath and everyone else in the studio would happily forget that she couldn’t really have got it more wrong in the entirety of the programme up to this point, if it turns out she’s got the £100 in her box. If she knew, why didn’t she tell us at the start? A 1 in 22 guess that turns out to be correct is at least more impressive than an accurate 1 in 2 guess. I can’t help but yearn for there to be £250,000 in the box. If there’s not, Hokum Kath will nod wisely and the audience will gasp in rapt admiration; “wow, she was right all along, she did only have £100. It really wasn’t to be her day”. Noel opens her box… there’s £250,000 inside.
