YOU CAN’T BEAT A BIT OF BULLY

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There are many things you could argue have led to the breakdown in social cohesion and increases in mental health in our society. I’ve always felt it was the lack of housing or job opportunities, maybe even the shit education system we enforce on our children. It gives many of us that look of deep resignation as we’re squeezed between a rock and a hard place, as we stare blankly at our mobiles. However after years of searching for the answer to these conundrums, I think I’ve found the answer. Me and the wife always end the day watching TV in bed before the sand man comes a calling. Over the years we’ve got into Father Ted, Man versus Food, How do they make that, Ice Cold Zero, loads of shit really. The latest TV fad doing the rounds at the moment is one of my old favourites though : Bullseye! It was what Sunday afternoons were all about! Not only was it ‘Smashing, Super, Lovely’, but in many ways, it was the way we were. Its demise down the plug hole in 1995 was the signal for the end of entertainment and a way of life, as we knew it.
Bully as it was affectionately known was a national institution. Broadcast from Nottingham it achieved ratings of 14 million people per show. The slapstick piano playing music was instantly recognisable as was Tony Greens cavernous call to arms introduction, ‘IT’S A BULLSEYE’, feverishly applauded by 200 OAP’S bussed in from Derby. That was just the start. Jim Bowen the presenter would then appear. He was a proud Lancastrian, always in a cheap suit – a bit like a Northern Alan Partridge. He constantly abused Tony Green, who took it on the chin like he’d been born for it, before he’d briefly interview the 6 contestants on each show. They were normally a microcosm of what Britain used to be like. It was aimed at the working class and steel panelers, postman, brickies and clerical workers from across the country flocked at the chance to stand at Bullys oche. However like many shows of that era watching now can be uncomfortable for the faint hearted. The presenters played Carte blanche and both Women and Black people were rarely contesting for ‘Bully’s Special Prize’. Everyone also had an accent. Some were so indistinguishable that even Bowen would call for an interpreter, while he chortled away. He’d openly put down contestants from Yorkshire and showed a level of misogyny and veiled racism that Boris Johnson would have been proud off. The show rampaged through a darts and q & a’s format, allowing the contestants to cash up. The two pairs with the least money would then be eliminated, leaving the winners a chance on Bullys special prize board, where they could win a glass decanter or 9 other similar inane pieces of bollocks. Bowen would save his best one liners for this part of the show as he pawed the nervous contestants encouraging them to ‘Stay out of the black and in the red’ (the 9 prizes were behind the red segments of the board) and ‘there’s nothing in this game for 2 in a bed’. It would have you punching the air in delight as you waited in anticipation for its delivery. In between a Darts professional would throw for charity. These people were household names and Bowen would verbally fence with the likes of Eric Bristow and Cliff Lazerenko as they attempted to score 301 in 9 darts and a chance to win the fabled bronze bully. On one occasion it featured a Spanish professional who didn’t speak any English. Needless to say Bowen didn’t speak any Spanish. The results were embarrassing and had me curling up like Munchs Scream but the whole show was pantomime madness and that was its draw. By the time the non dart player the geek of the team, had thrown their 3 darts and the dart player had thrown their 6, set to Greens monotone, ‘That’s black’ and ‘BUT THAT’S RED’, they’d won a hop pitch of prizes. Bullys prize board would then revolve to reveal a match play board. Bowen would then offer them the chance to gamble everything for Bully’s special prize hidden behind a massive bully backdrop. The audience would go into meltdown at this stage, beseeching the couple to risk everything why their wives with steely stares made it apparently clear that the hostess trolley and tumble drier were not open to barter. Most of the punters would take heed and issue the obligatory ‘Thanks Jim, we’ve had a great day’ and split with the prizes and cash. However for some the gamble of scoring 101 with 6 darts was a bridge to far. The non dart player throwing first was usually the fall guy sporadically spewing their arrows all over the board before the dart player would strike a 1 or 5 consigning the attempt to failure. Occasionally the pairing would succeed. Everyone would then go apeshit, including Bowen and Green, cavorting around like there was no tomorrow as the backdrop lifted to reveal a car if they were lucky but more likely to be a speedboat or caravan. The speedboat prize was a bit of a dead duck if you lived on Ilkley Moor but with the onset of global warming and extreme flooding, nowadays they’d be a useful prize. In later years the show fell back on luxury holidays, which always were well received. Either way, win or lose the finalists had to do the ending staring grimly at what could have been if they’d lost. This was especially galling for one contestant requiring a 3 on his last dart who somehow contrived to hit the wire to the disbelief of Bowen and missed out on an Austin Allegro. It was drama to the end and compulsive viewing and still has the ability to entertain all these years later.