It was approximately 19.30 on a Saturday evening and this was the view that I had before me. It was Elephant & Castle’s ever glamorous shopping centre and the glow of the setting sun was making it look like a venue for a Grand Theft Auto mission.
This is where I met up with Cat – whom you may remember from the Moroccan adventures. Together we were going to lose our bingo playing virginity in this joyous looking place.
We were escalator-delivered to the London Palace where we had to register our details before entering the hall. Initially, it was not the most impressive of establishments. I don’t know exactly what I was expecting but definitely more than just the kind of amusement and slot machine arcade that you come across at all respectable motorway service stations.
But then we turned towards the ticket book booth. As we emerged from the initial uninspiring corridor, we were shown a vast hall, splatted with American diner seating, OAPs and waistcoat-wearing claim-checkers busily scurrying around.
It was when we spoke to the staff that it soon became apparent that Bingo has far greater complexities than I had originally anticipated. The staff, however, were remarkably considerate. They let us practice on the numbers currently being called to check that we were doing it right and gave us free markers. They even kept playing on our behalf while we used the cash machine to get some cash.
Talking of which, the ATM must have dated as far back as most of the congregation because it’s beige beauty was let down by it’s very slow operation. Seriously, I think there was a little chap in there running off to another ATM to acquire the cash and returning with it. And if there that might have been worth been worth a shout.
Okay, so we had our ticket books, a vague understanding of each of the games from the Irish host and we were ready to play. Diving right into the sea of elderly and bewildered and/or drunk youth, we found our seat and set to it.
Instantly, we were very confused as to how everything worked and what all the different calls, claims and games meant. Thankfully, the gentleman sat next to us would indicate which game we were on. To aid the situation and maintain the old person in the 1980s feel that this venue was radiating, I grabbed a pint of lager shandy and a packet of mini cheddars to keep me ticking over.
There seemed to be about 5 or 6 different games being played at the same time. One of which was called Game Link and involved linking up all the other Palace bingo halls across the nation, that resulted in comical murmurs or ‘bloomin’ Great Yarmouth’ when someone from another hall made a claim.
The saddest news is that we failed to take any winnings at all. But, you know what, I thought it was decent entertainment. Considering we had only paid £5 each, we’d had a good laugh for at least an hour. Give me a couple more decades and I think I’d enjoy spending a regular Saturday evening at the top of the Elephant & Castle shopping centre.
