Part Seven Of Fun, Frolics And Flatulence

I left the previous episode (Part six) of our holiday with all four of us sat around the pool laughing about the Turkish shave incident. So, we’ll stay around the pool/bar area as I tell you about ‘Bingo Gate’ an international controversy equal only to Brexit!

The entertainments guy, the one who used “Ahh” at the end of every word, announced during one evenings entertainment that “Bingoahhh” would begin soonahhh”! After he had announced it, he moved stealthily amongst the increasingly drunken people sat around their tables, asking everyone if they would like to play. I can’t actually remember exactly how much the tickets were but they were surprisingly expensive considering it was just a holiday laugh! The price meant nothing to me personally but looking around the tables I noticed a few eyebrows lifting in jaw dropping astonishment 😂

When all tickets had been sold (Unbelievable) our host set a small cinema screen up that flapped about when a breeze caught it. He turned on his laptop and a few minutes later a numbers grid appeared on the flapping white screen. He was ready, we were ready, everybody else was ready. The numbers started to appear simultaneously on the screen as he called them out. As the numbers were called out by our host, the tension grew and every 6 numbers or so our host would irritatingly stop to ask “Is anybody closeahhh”? About 20 numbers had been called out when a female voice shouted “Earrrr” from somewhere in the darkened, makeshift bingo hall. A few seconds later a woman walked up to the host to collect her prize. The host appeared to be excited as he boomed out over the microphone “Let’s seeahhh whatahhh you’veahhh wonahhh”. The first ‘Part’ of her prize was a fishbowl. When he said “Fishbowlahhh” she became irritated and looked visibly disappointed. He looked at her and asked her what was wrong? She replied by asking , and she was serious when she said this, “How the hell am I going to get a fishbowl through customs “? Incredibly, she had no idea that a fishbowl was a very large glass of whatever cocktail she wanted! Her confusion seemed to confuse the host, (Members of the audience looked on in amazement)  who tried to explain what it was and then told her that it was just the first of three prizes that were coming her way! She also won another prize I can’t remember what and some money (I think about 40 Lire) However, she didn’t look happy as she walked back to her table, verbalising her obvious disgust at her prizes!! and that theme carried on throughout the strangest, funniest game of bingo I’ve ever been involved in. At one point, I thought a riot was going to break out as every one of the winners expressed dissatisfaction with their prizes!! To his credit, the host remained cool under enormous pressure and I could see the relief on his face when the game came to an end! Our table (Mother hen, Grave Digger, Shuffle and myself the Carer) sat back and enjoyed the pointless commotion caused by some of the holiday makers. (Sorry Mr Host) At a point just after ‘Bingo Gate’ had finished, the host came over to our table (It must have looked like a friendly place to hide) for a chat. We told him he had done very well to keep his cool and we had enjoyed it. After thanking us he told us that in all the years he had put bingo on as entertainment for the guests, he had never faced a more difficult group of people!! Of course, Mother hen tried to heal international relations by offering an apology on behalf of the English people in the ‘I want your blood ‘ crowd.

An hour or so later, after the majority of the baying crowd had disappeared, we ended our evening by retiring up to our apartment and enjoyed a cup of tea on the balcony that overlooked the pool/bar area. In fact, that’s how we ended all of our nights around the bar, sat on the balcony, witnessing the few diehards who continued drinking, forcing the bar staff to stay behind to serve them when I’m sure they would have loved to have finished their working day!! (The staff worked very hard)

Now that iv’e mentioned the balcony and the apartment, it’s worth saying that Shuffle likes his crisps. Every night on the balcony, to accompany the cup of tea, was a large packet of crisps, most of which he consumed. (This is true Stuart) In fact, at one point during the holiday, at about 3 am, Shuffle actually woke me up with the sound of him crunching crisps, which was confirmed by Mother hen, who got out of bed to use the toilet only to be met by the sight of Shuffle’s mouth crammed full of crisps, crumbs all over the floor.

I have one more episode to post, which will conclude our holiday in Turkey.

Until then.


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