Archive for Surprise Surprise


Posted in I'm More Annoying! with tags , , , on July 18, 2009 by MrsMinxington
Chun-Li's granny taught her everything she knows...

Chun-Li's granny taught her everything she knows...


Ello Chuck!

Surprise Surprise! It’s Cilla Ere!

She used to be simple Priscilla White, until a magazine error turned her into Cilla Black, which she liked better and stuck with. A bit like a reverse-Jacko, if you will.

Once upon a time she was a pop singer from Liverpewl, working class through and through who was in the right place at the right time for the whole Merseybeat music scene to kick off. Then she got older, and turned into a TV presenter and pantomime horse, fronting such eighties delights as Blind Date, and Surprise Surprise.  

You kids today know NOTHING about suffering. You get Ant n Dec and Graham Norton for your Saturday night televisual viewing pleasure. We children of the 80’s and 90’s suffered Cilla, Roy Walker, and Larry Grayson doing The Generation Game. And we didnt have Ipods to block it all out with, or 200 other tv channels to choose from. 

In your day, “Graham” is the guru of re-invention from a shitty life that Jeremy Kyle calls upon to dish out therapy and advice to his wayward toothless guests. “Our Graham” was a voiceover from behind the stage that introduced the half-witted contestants on Cilla’s Blind Date and gave us reminders of their tedious unfunny responses to the questions posed by the person looking to choose a potential match. If only they had been realistic and not scripted responses.

Cilla “And here’s our Graham, to give you a reminder”

Graham “Will it be Number 1, overeager,  face like the back end of a bus but goes like a train? ”

“Or Number 2, reasonably attractive in a kind of vacuous way, but invariably will turn out to be completely frigid when left alone with you for more than 5 minutes?”

“Or will it be number 3, The joke contestant that has the best personality of the three, but will make you take several steps of recoil backwards when we pull the screen back due to the large fungus she has growing on her forehead and the fact that she’s medically classified as a dwarf and has one leg shorter than the other? Oh yes, and she smells a bit musty.”

“”Hapless Fool, the choice is yours!”

At least the poor chooser might have had half a chance of finding the right one of the three instead of having to choose from a load of insipid sucky uppy clichéd sales-pitches interspersed by the geriatric studio audience whooping to order.

I’m digressing again aren’t I. This is supposed to be about Cilla, which it kind of is. Sort of. She is annoying though, isn’t she? 

My brother used to do a very passable Cilla Black impression before he hit puberty. He once scared me by phoning me up and uttering those immortal words down the phone, and just for a brief moment I believed him. Cnut.

I can’t imagine there would be anything more disturbing than having actual real life Cilla knock on your door with some long-lost relative or other that you hadn’t seen for 20 years (probably with good reason) to surprise you. Well, unless she was accompanied by Carolgees, I suppose. Fortunately those days are now well and truly over.

You can tell your career is at an end (and nearly your life) when you start to show up on those adverts that want you to buy an insurance policy that will pay out a lump sum after you die to help your loved ones cope with the expenses of a funeral, while you get the benefit of a pen, or a carriage clock, or an M&S voucher to thank you for joining.

Give it a couple more years and she’ll be jumping into Dame Thora’s stair lift wearing an electric slipper and incontinence trousers. But she’ll at least have Dale Winton there to give her a hand on and off. He won’t be wanting to give her a hand at the other end though, I don’t suppose.

She is a shining example of how to grow old disgracefully. While she was married, she was always dressed like a ginger Margaret Thatcher, nowadays, more likely to be falling out of some bar or other on the arm of Paul O Grady or Dale, in skin tight leather pants and a batwing sequin number.

Being from Merseyside myself, I would like to say how proud I am that one of Liverpools daughters went on to be such an internationally reknowned superstar and celebrity.

I would like to. But I’m not going to. Tara Chuck!