Man of letters

Such was my surprise that I don't even remember what I said during my first, brief appearance on television last Friday.

Three auditions over six years, and there I was sitting in a studio in Leeds, waiting to go up on the stage in front of friends and loved ones in the audience - and five million viewers - for my long-awaited 27 minutes of fame.

I arrived at the studio nervously early with six changes of clothes, necessary should I hit a winning streak and stay for a week's worth of programmes. I was all set for my big day of television stardom.

After briefings and a bit of make-up, with Carol (yes, we are on first-name terms) at the next chair with her curlers in, I headed out in to the studio.

On the show before you appear as a contestant, they wire you up and sit you down in the 'hot seat'. This is a seat at the front of the studio audience where Richard Whiteley can introduce you and inquire how you fared with that day's conundrum.

That is when it hit me. I was about to be on television.

The audition had been taken in October, and the acceptance letter was received on January 9 (I remember the date, because my phone-bill was huge after I rang everyone I knew to boast of my success), so my March filming date had been a long-time coming.

But as I sat there checking out my future opponents, it all became a lot more real.

As the two protagonists fought it out on stage, I made my own notes, seeing if I could beat them to give myself a confidence boost.

Remarkably, and looking back, frustratingly, I would have won had I taken part in the 3,000th show.

Unfortunately, I was on the 3,001st and didn't fare quite as well.

After a quick change of clothes, to give the appearance of 'the next day', I headed onto the stage to be wired up once more.

A dab of foundation from a suitably camp male make-up artist and I was ready to rumble.

With Keith Barron, of Duty Free fame, in dictionary corner, Richard Whiteley on my left and Carol just round the corner, I felt surprisingly unfazed.

As, hopefully, many of you would have seen yesterday Richard was typically smug and corny with his introductory puns, but our banter about the Evening Press relaxed us both.

I must say the game itself was a bit of a blur. I remember making basic mistakes. In the words round, for example, I got 'waters', but missed 'waiters'.

And certainly calling my girlfriend "cutesy" on national television was a memorable highlight for all involved.

In fact, it was that moment that made my day. It is all very well being on television quiz show, making all those years of paternally influenced Scrabble-playing and crossword-solving worthwhile. But you have to do something memorable, something for your friends to chuckle at. And this was it.

In the third round some difficult letters came up. Paul Hawkins, my erstwhile and successful opponent, managed just a five.

But I came up with a dubious six. I read it out, the word cutesy, unsure of whether or not it was a word.

Dictionary corner scrabbled around to look it up and Richard filled the gap by asking me how I would use the word.

"I don't know, for example, my girlfriend is a cutesy," I answered, to the amusement of all in the audience, and the embarrassment of the cutesy herself.

And, much to my pleasure, it was there.

"Cute to a sentimental or mawkish extent," read the lovely lady in dictionary corner.

Much to Richard's amusement I was then asked whether the word would apply to Carol, and, naturally, I said it would.

There in her leather trousers, Carol was every bit the beautiful lady we always thought her to be.

Friends of mine in the audience were particularly taken with her, especially when I managed to persuade her to sign an autograph for them.

Their recently-celebrated birthdays were made all the more pleasurable by an expression of love from Carol herself.

In fact my 'team' of supporters were vocal enough throughout the show that they even got a mention at the end.

And what an end it was.

Throughout the show reigning champion Paul and I battled closely. We each cracked both the numbers games and we ebbed and flowed on the letters, with Paul keeping his beak slightly in front.

So there we were at the climactic conundrum, eight points separating us. I knew that in the next 30 seconds my fate would be decided, with a change of clothes and the chance to fight a new challenger at stake.

And up came the conundrum.

A tactically nave error saw me try and get the answer just by looking at the words rather than using my tried and tested method of writing the anagram in a circle.

I went for speed rather than accuracy and paid the penalty when I incorrectly buzzed in with "detriment".

The correct answer was "marinated". I was close but wrong. And that was that.

The great adventure over I walked away with a bag of goodies and my memories.

And, as of yesterday, a video that will played to death whenever anyone comes to visit.

But one thing I learnt from the day is that next time I appear on telly, it will be a on show where I walk away with cash not mugs, holidays not T-shirts and cars not board games.

Updated: 09:19 Tuesday, May 01, 2001