Carole’s got into Bargain Hunt.
I know, right? It’s the best thing ever. What was, previously, a “guilty pleasure” that had to be squirreled away and enjoyed when alone is now out there in the open. We can watch it together, and wince in unison at the cheesy leg kick at the end whilst simultaneously keeping an eye out for any unsteady pensioners who have put a bit too much effort into the kick.
But it’s not all good news.
Because she has developed her own little game while it’s on where we have to guess what each item will make. We have to guess. Us. The two people on a couch watching the show. That’s not how you watch Bargain Hunt. It’s not a game you can play along with at home. That’s like watching Tipping Point and asking which drop zone you’d have gone for without any way of knowing what the outcome would be.
Bargain Hunt isn’t about that. You don’t make a Meta-game where you guesstimate the profits. Bargain Hunt is all about shouting “Well, that’s bloody awful” or “They saw you coming…” at the screen. It’s about marvelling at the absolute crap some people will buy. It’s not for saying “I think that will make fifteen pounds profit” and then shortly thereafter forgetting what value you had ascribed to it.
You can’t play along at home. It’s not Countdown.
It’s about hoping that the team which exhibits some sort of theatrical talent – acting, singing or whatever is not encouraged, through the purchase of or interest in an item, to demonstrate their “talents” for the viewing public. It’s about getting annoyed with teams who don’t talk to their experts or use them for what they are designed. It’s about forming a bias at the beginning based on one small thing you noticed during the “meet the teams” phase which then clouds your entire judgement of the show.
It’s definitely not about guessing that they’ll make a fiver on a spoon. Or that they’ll win they “golden gravel” as Caz insists on calling it.
If we wanted to start guessing profits and wotnot, we’d go on the show ourselves.
And Carole never wants to be seen on television, she says.
What’s the point of me slowly getting her hooked on the show if she’s not even going to want to be on it…