Paul Johnston
Ian Rankin Writing Scholarship
Award Winner 2012/13
OH, WHAT A CONUNDRUM
“Consonant, please, Carol”
“S”
The Good Lady Wife had drummed it in to me to say “please”. Thankfully the
show‟s production assistants had confirmed that I only needed to say it once.
Good job too. I had enough to worry about, what with the lights, moving
cameras and a dozen rows of assorted pensioners and students, as well as
the close proximity of both broadcasting legend Des Lynam and Susie Dent –
the lexicographer of love – not to mention the prospect of that morning‟s full
English breakfast making a rapid reappearance any minute now. Last thing I
needed was to worry about my Ps and Qs.
“Consonant”
“N”
“Consonant”
“T”
My stomach is churning. I think I might be sick. I may be the first person to
actually vomit on Countdown. It occurs to me that projectile is 10 letters and
vomiting is only 8. Unfortunately “Mr Countdown” Richard Whitely isn‟t here. If
I threw up on one of the garish ties he famously wore I doubt anyone would
notice. Hell, it may even be an improvement. Sadly I don‟t have that in-caseof-emergency fallback as Richard, god rest his gaudy neckwear, is no longer
with us. Dapper Des, “The Guv‟nor”, is here now. Right, focus! So far, so
good. Hopefully I can avoid the J or K. Or Z. And the Q.
“Consonant”
Paul Johnston
Ian Rankin Writing Scholarship
Award Winner 2012/13
“C”
Oh. With the right companions the C can be a good friend or a bad enemy. At
this moment I‟m cursing the little c…onsonant. It‟s as much use to me as a cat
flap on a submarine. An E would make CENTS/sense and a decent
foundation to work on. Change of tack required.
“Vowel, please”
“E”
Nice.
“Vowel, please”
“U”
Urgh. There‟s the safety net for the Q, event though I‟d rather not see it thank
Q very much.
“Vowel, please”
“A”
“Consonant”
“S”
Always handy for pluralisation(s) as any Scrabbler – I might have just made
that word up – would tell you.
“And a vowel, please”
“E”
Des: “And the time starts now…”
It‟s a promising selection, the sort that seasoned Countdowners would no
doubt be salivating at home as they dunk their proprietary brand of Rich Tea
into their late afternoon cuppa. But now that I‟ve written them down I can‟t
seem to focus. The letters are all morphing into one big inky spider scrawl.
Morphing, that‟s an 8. Come on, concentrate! Cents? Check. Census? Good,
Paul Johnston
Ian Rankin Writing Scholarship
Award Winner 2012/13
that‟s a six and a reasonable platform to build on but a 7 would be better.
What else is there? SANCT…no. ENTER…nah, no Rs. Although I can feel my
Rs. Flapping away, it is.
Why the hell am I here? Why am I putting myself through this ritual
humiliation? It‟s not as if it‟s for a car or a holiday or, as Blackadder so
succinctly put it, “flipping great wadges of cash”. Even the (in)famous Bullseye
speedboat is looking desirable. It‟s because I‟m addicted. Hooked on the buzz
of television and I just can‟t shake it. It‟s William G Stewart‟s fault. Yeah, it‟s all
his fault. He let me try “Fifteen to One” for nothing once, then I dabbled in it on
bank holidays and sick days, then it was every weekday afternoon and before
I knew it I was hooked on the stuff. It didn‟t end there though. Soon I was
watching evening quizzes and sometimes taping daytime shows. Before long I
was even watching “Lucky Ladders”. Don‟t do game shows kids, they really
screw you up.
CENTAURS? Damn, there‟s still no R no matter how long I look at the letters.
What about suffixes?
At times like this I begin to question my own sanity. I‟ve waited two years to
get on to the game show that is quite rightly regarded as the premier show for
lovers of word games, crosswords and puzzles. As soon as I found out I had
an audition I went into “training” – TV execs would probably call it a „boot
camp‟ these days – and joined like-minded fools in a room in the Ramada
Mount Royal Hotel in Edinburgh. Why? The chance to win a bloody teapot
and some Tetley Kudos! If I can just keep it together, stay calm and learn to
Paul Johnston
Ian Rankin Writing Scholarship
Award Winner 2012/13
breathe I might just be able to salvage something from this situation.
Admittedly, it‟s a situation of my own making.
Right, let me see, there‟s a T, a C, a U, an A and an E left, but word blindness
is striking me again. Wait there…is that an 8? Oh, maybe, but is it a word? Of
course it‟s a word. But it doesn‟t look like a word. Oh, wait a minute, is that a
9?
For those of us who had no pretensions of becoming Countdown series
champions, let alone winning a single show, there was always the fleeting
glory of pulling out a 9-letter word. While the „maximum‟ was in no way a
guarantee of success and a return visit to the Yorkshire studios, its bonus of a
double points score of 18 would go a long way to getting one hand on TV‟s
most famous gaudy teapot. Like a footballer unexpectedly finding himself with
a too-good-to-be-true gaping open goal in front of him, I was faced with a
similar prospect in the shape of a possible 9-letter word.
It looked like a proper word. It even sounded like a proper word, but the
occasion was bringing on doubts I hadn‟t experienced since walking down the
aisle. (Only joking, dear.) I needed a plan.
But I couldn‟t remember if it was my turn to go first or Tony‟s. I thought that if I
got the nod I would just „go for it‟ – faint heart and all that. But if Tony went
first it would depend what score he declared. If he went for an 8, I‟d have to go
for the dodgy 9. I just needed some time to think…
Paul Johnston
Ian Rankin Writing Scholarship
Award Winner 2012/13
“…doo-doo doo-doo doodle-a doo…boo”
Des: “Yes, Tony?”
Tony: “7”
Des: “Paul?”
Hmm…