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Top Ten: 90s Gameshows by shoutingatco.ws
Remember the 90s? Of course you do, unless you’re one of those irritating sods that’s sprung up over the last couple of years that were actually born in the last decade. Even so, thanks to Satellite TV’s need to fill hour after hour of airtime with cheap programming, you can experience 90s telly in all it’s non-widescreen, blocky glory.
The crowning glory of 90s TV wasn’t big budget drama or groundbreaking documentaries. No, it was the filmed-in-a-studio-for-the-price-of-a-tin-of-beans gameshow. And here’s ten of the best.
Catchphrase
How it worked: Low-tech animations representing a well-known phrase are shown on a screen. Guess what it is.
Why it was wonderful: This is the only program on the list that makes me genuinely angry. I’m no rocket surgeon, but the caliber of guest was so low that they may as well have had someone randomly bashing the keys on a speak-and-spell to guess the answers.
Sample animation: A bean walking down the street holding a hand-bag. An arrow points at the bag.
It’s a bean bag. Bean. Bag. So what does the fucking retard manage to buzz in and drool out? Runner bean. No. Obviously not a runner bean, BECAUSE IT ISN’T FUCKING RUNNING AND THE ARROW IS POINTING AT THE BAG.
Roy Walker would insincerely say “it’s good – but it’s not right!” regardless of the quality of the guess, and could be seen smirking at the particularly pathetic attempts. His delighted “RIIIIIIIGHT!” when they finally chanced upon the correct answer was a joy to behold.
Family Fortunes
How it worked: Turn up with four members of your family and try to guess the public’s most popular answers to survey questions.
Why it was wonderful: You could see the moment of despair in dad’s eyes when he finally realised just how useless his mother-in-law is, as she yet another ludicrous answer that shows she hasn’t really understood the question.
You Bet
How it worked: Members of the public reckoned they could complete a challenge, while celebrity guests gambled on whether they would or not.
Why it was wonderful: Matthew Kelly’s gormless reactions while Bournemouth Dog Training School explained how they could get their dogs to pick up 30 bits of litter in a minute were a joy. Contractually obliged to get excited, he clearly wanted to be anywhere else, which meant hilarious awkwardness and forced delight. Poor sod.
At home, you could argue with all the authority of a pub bore over whether or not Kidderminster Golf Club had the skill to hit 10 targets with 25 balls, which inevitably caused arguments and someone storming out of the room. Winner!
Who Wants to be a Millionaire?
How it worked: Like you need to be told. Answer questions until you win £32,000.
Why it was wonderful: This was the first gameshow not to be on the contestant’s side, despite Tarrant’s annoyingly cheerful banter, the lights, music and studio were all set up to be as stressful as possible for the potential winner.
The only competition on the list with a proper prize, too – where else can you earn £1,000 just for being able to complete the phrase “Jack and Jill went up the… ” when given four possible answers? And the chance to phone your dad.
Wheel Of Fortune
How it worked: Spin a giant wheel to get a cash amount, guess a letter and receive the cash amount for every time the letter appears in the mystery phrase. While trying to avoid being groped by John Leslie.
Why it was wonderful: This was another show you could bellow at the TV because the answers seemed to be beyond the ability of the participants. Maybe that was a deliberate thing, so you could sit at home all smug and superior, despite only being 12.
The National Lottery
How it worked: Ten seconds of numbers dropping out of a machine and tickets being screwed up, dragged out for anything up to an hour.
Why it was wonderful: Even though it’s been on every Saturday for the last 15 years, it’s still more interesting and effective to check if you’ve won a tenner on Teletext, the Internet or your phone.
Hosted by stars of varying quality, from Rowland Rivron and Scott Mills to Phil Schofield and Noel Edmonds, the accompanying games are complicated, dull attempts at shoehorning the lottery numbers into some sort of game with an exciting twist.
Gladiators
How it worked: Two competitors battled over a number of physical challenges, while freakily-muscled Gladiators tried to stop them.
Why it was wonderful: To those that have seen the Russell Crowe epic, the word Gladiator inspires images of battles to the death in ancient times, togas, sandals and pissed off Emperors giving a thumbs down to those who must die.
Not so with these Gladiators. These are falling onto a crash-mat in the middle of the NIA, in Birmingham.
One of the Gladiators, Wolf, was about 60 and easily twice the age of all the others, and was the pantomime villain, so inoffensively crap that even the 8 year old children in the crowd felt more than a little guilty for picking on a chap verging on being a pensioner.
Strike it Lucky / Strike it Rich
How it worked: Answer questions and tolerate Barrymore to progress along a board winning prizes. Wikipedia, in its own inimitable style, summarises it in a far more entertaining way than I ever could:
Three couples compete to win cash & prizes by going across an archway of TV monitors on stage. On a team’s turn, one member of that team was given a category with six possible answers. That player then must decide how many answers he/she must give (either two, three, or four) for two, three or four moves on their respective 10 monitored archway. If the player can complete the contract, their partner gets to move across their archway, otherwise the opposing team gets to complete the contract.
Why it was wonderful: As with every other Barrymore show, it wasn’t about anyone but him, so the first half of the show was him lightheartedly taking the piss out of the contestants, which they loved. Funny, when he points out that one of the old ladies is walking a bit slow, it’s hilarious, but when I shove them out of the way because they’re blocking the entire aisle in Sainsbury’s, that’s somehow worth banning me from the shop.
Amazingly, the show started out as Strike it Lucky and became Strike it Rich, rather than the other way round. Presumably the thought of going home with £800 and a holiday is the extent of our aspirations of richness.
Supermarket Sweep
How it worked: Based on the fabled Trolley Dash competition prize that only existed in the Beano, this daytime gameshow was set in a real life pretend supermarket! Run around like a Daily Star reader in a snowstorm, throwing everything into your trolley like you’ll be trapped at home for the next month!
Why it was wonderful: Anything presented by Dale Winton is automatically camply fantastic (even Hole in the Wall). His infectious enthusiasm spilled across into the contestants, who couldn’t help but smile, cheer and wave.
The must puzzling thing about the trolley dash was the strategy. Carefully picking out a bit of this, then moving on and grabbing some more. Balls to that, just swipe the whole shelf into your trolley. What the hell, it’s not like breakages are deducted. Bonus marks for trying it in the alcohol section. Those bottles of whiskey might not all bounce, but they’re not cheap either.
They Think it’s all Over
How it worked: Banter and sports clips
Why it was wonderful: It wasn’t. TTIAO was a breeding ground for 90s blokey tosswipes who thought Men Behaving Badly was aspirational. Utter bellends like Rory McGrath, Nick fucking Hancock, a man so singularly unfunny that he could darken the mood at a cremation and Gary Linekar, who has a permanent grin like someone that’s just let out a sneaky fart.
Twatty half-wits that joke about birds and lager and are the sort of insufferable arseholes that you’d never get tired of punching. The precursor to a million and one identikit panel shows, the original knock off of Have I Got News For You.
And finally, the ones that nearly made the list. Feel free to write a haiku about any of them.
Big Break
Celebrity Squares
Stars in their Eyes
100%
The Krypton Factor
Talking Telephone Numbers
The Crystal Maze
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