If you have read our previous blog posts or our Twitter feed, you will probably be aware that T and myself are old women at heart. That’s right, an old lesbian couple who enjoys knitting and quiet nights in watching our shows.
So it will probably come as no surprise to you that we like bingo. That’s right. Once a week we will make the trip to our nearest bingo hall along with the actual old people.
I don’t know if you’ve ever been to a bingo hall before, but it’s certainly an experience. No, I’m not referring to the bingo itself – that’s pretty tame and doesn’t exactly get the adrenaline going. I’m talking about the people.
I don’t know what it is about this game, but it attracts a certain… interesting… class of people. Essentially, it seems to attract the local weirdos. Perhaps I am foolish to say this, since I am myself a regular.
Anyway, there’s an awkward part of the evening when we are stuck with a half hour break in the middle (mainly because we are poor students who refuse to pay for any of the extra games), so I began devising a little list of some of the bizarre sights I had witnessed.
Upon first entering the hall, I was faced by a strange purple phenomenon. A tribute to Filfil perhaps?
|Filfil, in case you did not know.|
No, no, simply one of the local ladies who thought it would be attractive to wear bright purple clothing from head to toe and plaster her face with obnoxious purple make-up. Well at least she’s memorable I guess.
As we sat patiently, minding our own business, I glanced up to see an old woman staring down at us from the balcony. Not saying anything, just glaring. I started to wonder – what had we done to deserve the evil glares of this woman? Had I given her a funny look on the way in? Were we acting like an inappropriate filthy pair of dykes? (we do accidentally do that sometimes). But no. As it turned out, the woman had dropped a pound under our table and did not quite understand the problem with her rude glaring. T quickly retrieved the money and handed it over to make her leave.
Of course T and I didn’t win (we never win *sighs*) but a couple nearby us did win… and proceeded to engage in some kind of synchronised victory dance. It was quite awesome, and I fully intend on doing the same on the mythical day when I finally win. But of course whenever one person wins, there is inevitably a sigh of annoyance throughout the room – bingo players are sore losers.
Then of course there are what I like to call the hardcore bingoers. These are the people who have been in this game for a long time. They know what they’re doing. They aren’t just there for a bit of fun on a Thursday night, oh no. They are there to WIN. These HB’s can be spotted by their fancy bingo pens, expensive electronic playing devices and their general all-knowing aura. I witnessed one lady approach her friend and loudly scold her for choosing to sit where she had parked herself. Apparently it wasn’t a prime bingo spot.
Now, traditionally, our dear little bingo place really doesn’t attract the gays. In fact, it’s downright bizarre to spot any fellow lady-lovers in there. So we were rather shocked last week when we found the place to be crawling with dykes. Okay, crawling with dykes is a bit of an exaggeration, but there were more than usual! We even started a little tally on the bottom of our bingo sheet (hey, it gets boring during intervals ok?!)
Do any of you guys partake in the thrilling world of bingo? Or are we just too old before our time?