EIGHTY-EIGHT! Somebody please kill me now. That was my thought the one and only time that I have played bingo, a game that is inexplicably popular across the Western world. I say ‘game’ but it’s not really a game, it’s just crossing off numbers.
I just don’t get it. The prizes are less than appealing, there’s very little meaningful social interaction and it’s just dull. So, so dull. It’s so tragic that ‘they’ had to make up quirky nicknames for the numbers, which are recited in unison by the players, just to inject some humour into proceedings. And presumably to also ensure that everyone is still awake.
Mainly because the stereotypical bingo player, the ones who spend quite literally tens of pounds on several game cards, are generally older ladies who are actually happy to consume the fast food on sale in bingo halls. Yes, two fat ladies are indeed a common sight. Continue reading





