ITV - Blind Date

I think it was back in 1995 that I went to the David Lloyd Club in Eastbourne for one of their opening days at Easter time. As I was wondering around inspecting the facilities I knew I would never be able to afford to visit again, I saw a poster in the café area on one of the central posts with a picture of someone I thought I recognised. Yes, it was 'Our Cilla'. It read something like:

'Would you like a Blind Date? Visit the Grand ...
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I took this in, erratically wrote down the date, time and venue on a scrap of paper I knew I would lose, in handwriting I knew I wouldn't be able to read, but all the same, decided to give it a go.


-------- STAGE ONE --------

Wednesday 12 April 1995 - After work on that fateful day, I turned up to the audition in a big room at the Grand Hotel in Eastbourne. Knowing not what would be in store for me, ... more

I think it was back in 1995 that I went to the David Lloyd Club in Eastbourne for one of their opening days at Easter time. As I was wondering around inspecting the facilities I knew I would never be able to afford to visit again, I saw a poster in the café area on one of the central posts with a picture of someone I thought I recognised. Yes, it was 'Our Cilla'. It read something like:

'Would you like a Blind Date? Visit the Grand Hotel, Eastbourne on (whatever date it was) for an audition"

I took this in, erratically wrote down the date, time and venue on a scrap of paper I knew I would lose, in handwriting I knew I wouldn't be able to read, but all the same, decided to give it a go.

-------- STAGE ONE --------

Wednesday 12 April 1995 - After work on that fateful day, I turned up to the audition in a big room at the Grand Hotel in Eastbourne. Knowing not what would be in store for me, I filled in a form to state who I was, what I was, what I was hoping to gain, where I would like to go, who I would like to meet and all sorts of questions like that (not knowing that this was the 'set-up' questionnaire used if successful, in finding the world's worst looking/behaving/mannered date!

After filing in my application form, I waited patiently. Wondering why on earth I was there, looking around me I saw people of all ages, shapes, sizes, and differing levels of photogenic material. Of course, not trying to appear too vain or unpolitically correct (honest!). I sat and waited ... and waited ... and waited.

Eventually, about 30 of same sex were filed into a large room and asked to plonk ourselves down on seats positioned in the formation of a large crescent that very neatly surrounded the 'Big Table' which the panel sat on. I remember a lady with dyed red hair and a beaming smile, and in turn asked each and every one of us to explain who we were, why we were there and what we thought our personalities were like.

The one thing that springs to mind is that I remember a couple of females sitting together, I carefully choose the word `females' because only one of them fits into the category of 'lady' or 'woman'. I assumed that these two females were mother and daughter because of the age gap between them and the apparent relationship qualities they possessed. They seemed to have an outrageous vanity complex and couldn't string a sentence together without giggling and couldn't talk unless it was in unison.

So when it came to my turn, I happened to be right on the other end, I felt as if I had burned all my energy off just trying to decode this frantic behaviour.

Well, I obviously did quite a good job, as while I was speaking, the Dyed-red-haired-lady seemed to be really interested and was smiling more now. She could, of course, as I thought at the time, just be a very nice person.

So we were thanked very much for our time, were filed back out in the fashion we entered and were told we would hear anything between the next two weeks to a year.

I also remember my last memory of that day: "Well that's been fun, it was an experience and I've enjoyed it, but I'm not the sort they're looking for".

A little while later, I received a phone call from a guy who seemed to be the type you see in television adverts trying to sell a really bad thing with enthusiasm which makes you want to vomit. I listened very nicely to what he had to say and trying to take it all in as he was speaking so fast, I wondered whether he himself was being billed for the phone calls. After checking the facts again (for the third time), I had established that what he was trying to tell me was, that I would be receiving a letter from LWT on directions of how to get to the studio. LWT would pay for any travel costs incurred, bring my passport, wear something similar that I would like to wear on the show and think of my most embarrassing moment.

In a nutshell all that, meant I had been selected for the final audition.

-------- STAGE TWO --------

Being a mere 23-year-old, and having lived a relatively sheltered life (I know some who would disagree), feeling extremely guilty about bunking a sickie from work, was chaperoned by my father up to LWT studios for the final auditions. Knowing no fear, I didn't feel nervous or anxious or anything. However, I was feeling quite excited.

Having arrived at LWT, I was greeted by ... (A-hem!) ... I disturbed an extremely egotistical, over-made-up female at front desk who talked to me like I was a weight on her mind. She slapped a brown LWT pass sticker on my leather jacket, and told me very slack directions of where to go. Using a bit of ESP, common sense and guesswork, I eventually arrived at the door with the aura you could cut with a knife. (It took one lift, two flights of stairs, four corners and three corridors to get to the door with the aura you could cut with a knife). Having had to guess most of my way, I knew I was a little late - you know that feeling when you go for an interview and the first impressions is all that counts. I was thinking that I might as well leave there and then, as I had probably created the world's worst impression in the whole of television history. But the trouble I had taken and the possibility of a 'slim chance' got the better of me to eke it out. My eyes immediately scanned the panel, which consisted of four people, not much older than myself. I tried to find the Dyed-red-haired-lady with the nice face, but it must have been her day off. My hopes seemed to be dashed. But then again, I didn't see the mother-and-daughter ventriloquist act, so immediately felt as if I'd been blessed.

We had to sign an Official Secrets Act, not to divulge any information to the press or talk negatively about the show, we had our passports examined, our mugshots taken, signed a contract giving our permission to be on the show and a declaration to confirm we were not involved romantically in any relationship, and between then and appearing on a show, we were to inform them of any relationships forming. Having previously spoken to my ‘then' boyfriend about this, remembering that he was the one who encouraged me to 'go for it'. I felt assured that this information would not escape and no legal proceedings would be undertaken that I was 'getting off' with another fella.

In the audition, we had to go through the same process as before, with introducing ourselves and being bright and bubbly. We also had to do an exercise where we were given a line from a script of a TV programme and immediately had to come up with a funny line there and then. This was both a good ice breaking exercise and a good wind breaking exercise. And once one person had exhibited the ease to make a fool of themselves, there was a huge sigh of relief.

The third part of the audition entailed making a complete 'arse of oneself' whereby given a scenario, we had to devise a scene more or less on the spot, we had about 10 minutes to think about it, and then try and make the panel laugh.

Well, when it came to my turn, I didn't seem to get a very big laugh, I can remember my scenario, but I'm not going to tell you. But I did make a total fool of myself. And after that I knew that I would be going home and watching Blind Date in the same way I had years before.

We were again told, "If we want you on the show, expect a call from between two weeks to a year. Oh, and if we want you on the show as a stand-by, then do come, because it will improve your chances of getting on the show for a future programme." So, as before, my last thought of the day was, "Well that's been fun, it was an experience and I've enjoyed it, but I'm not the sort they're looking for".

A little while later, I remember being greeted on the telephone by a similar sounding voice but not recognisable to the one before, but in the same tone and sickeningly buoyant enthusiasm. Anyway, that aside, they wanted me to go onto the show as a stand-by. Obviously, after listening to their advice last time, naturally agreed and was a little bit excited but didn't get my hopes up too much as I thought that that's all I was going to get. All together now ... Aahhh!

Anyway, the very next day, I received a phone call from the same fella (actually, my boss at work received a phone call from the same fella, and subsequently found out I was putting myself forward for the show), told me that one of the girls that was scheduled had pulled out and so needed me to fill the space. Now I became a little more excited and it immediately hit me, like a bolt of lightning, that ever-nagging question, "What am I going to wear?"

-------- STAGE THREE --------

After getting all the bumpf of information, told them about my most embarrassing moment, which I can't remember what it was, I can honestly say, I've never walked around with my skirt tucked in my knickers, nor have I had a perm that's gone wrong, so it was very hard to remember anything like that, I probably just made one up!!

On 2 October 1995, escorted again, by my father, feeling a lot happier that I had been granted the day off work, we again took the Connex drawn carriage up to LWT and was greeted by a porter who whipped my luggage from me, I knew I had a two in three chance of not opening before I saw my house again, received a grey LWT sticker to plonk on my boob (I was told that the brown was in fact bronze and the grey was silver, like a mark of importance, hence thinking, if I was to see 'Our Cilia' again, 'to let her know how we got on', I would indeed be getting a yellow one, thus meaning gold. Intellectual guess!) I then kissed my father goodbye and he left for home.

I was then carted off to the same room I had seen once before to prepare us for the show. The girls who appeared with me on the show were London based PR workers. One, I remember enjoyed Seroc, a French style jazz dance and did a little jig and split herself in two on stage and I remember she made a horrible mark on the studio flooring with her three inch solid heeled all-the-rage boots. The other girl, the daughter of the singer in the famous 60's band, The New Seekers (my mum remembers), clearly felt she was too good for both the show and anyone else around her. Her name was 'Beaky', so called because as a premature Special Care Baby in hospital, her father (who must have a weird sense of humour) named her as the cap fitted. Apparently, she preferred to be called Beaky than her real name, Wesley (I think giving a female baby a name like that borders on Child Abuse). She is now a high flying career girl appearing with Anne Robinson on the Weekend Watchdog programme on a Friday evening.

The three guys who were appearing on the same show, I can't remember what they did or anything, but their vital statistics were; one had shoulder length dark hair, a bit like Curtis Stiegers; one had a mop of mouse brown tight curly hair, wearing a sheep fleece Biggles style cap with flappy sides, tied at the top and mirrored shades, was all "Hey Man!" and showed no sign of brain activity; and the third male, wearing a suit which looked like a cross between Rupert the Bear and D:Ream with sunshades wedged on the top of his head he had no intention of wearing, looked quite normal until he opened his mouth and showed his obviously nervous disposition of not being able to control his incessant giggling, doing a mighty good impersonation of Beavis and Butthead.

The three questions I get asked most often is; “Do you get the questions before you get on the show?”, “Is it set up with who gets picked?”, and, “Do you see the picker before the show?”. The answers; 'Yes', 'I'm sure, although there's no evidence', and, 'No', respectively.

The other question I get asked is; “What's Cilla really like?” Honestly? Well, she's not the Fairy God Mother everyone thinks she is and how she likes to portray herself. In fact, she got her lines wrong on a quite a few occasions and used some dreadful language towards the producers. And unlike other shows, (such as Stars in Their Eyes), we get no: "Hello Chuck, I'm Cilla" ease-you-in time. We had about three hours to learn our lines, do one run through in front of the cameras and that was it.

The highlight of the day must have been coming out of the studio from rehearsal and being faced with the one and only Gary Lineker. Although screened on BBC, They Think It's All Over (that no-one had heard about, because this was the first series) was being filmed at LWT. And not taking any interest in sport whatsoever, it shouldn't have bothered me, but I must say, the five minutes I spent with him and his almost invisible friend Barry McGuigan was a memory I will never forget. He is very charming. (I touched his hand!)

After finding out that my number hadn't come up, I rang my boyfriend and told him in a 'I'm phoning my mum' tone of voice. We carried on watching the show backstage in the Green Room, and drinking. We all clambered onto the set and did our little wave and then went upstairs for a buffet and beer kind of meal. The idea of eating after having been starved for the last seven hours really appealed to me as a treat, until I saw the very bland and basic foods laid on, wondering what kind of budgets they work to.

Later that evening, we went to String Fellows nightclub which was very anti climax after the wonderful things I'd heard about it and the famous people who frequent it and 'anti-cheesy music'. No Abba, no melodies, no lyrics, just thumpity-thumpity-thump, all night long.

As the night dragged on, it became clear to me that all the people who had been back to see 'Our Cilla' from the previous shows and the rejects from this week were all dancing together (if that was at all possible to the apparent rubbish) they appeared to pair off. Not being at all interested in any of the criteria available to me, and also thinking of my boyfriend back at home wondering what on earth I'd be getting up to, just wanted to go back to my hotel room and then go home the following day. The only thing that kept me there was the fact that I knew nothing of London, was petrified of venturing out on my own and wondering where on earth it would lead me to. So I thought, better still, I'll stay here with my banging headache and be miserable until these people with no sense of rhythm decide to vacate.

Later that evening, after all but one of the Blind Date material had paired off, and guess what? The only one left was a bloke! Well, I thought, if treat him nicely, he might walk me back safely to my hotel, but then again, he may want something in return, and this was not the kind of fella I usually hang about with. No offence, he was smart, sensible and extremely polite, he just wasn't my type. He had a broad Scottish accent that I couldn't understand a word of, added to that, the tempo and volume of this crazy 'music', as they like to call it, I had to decide which was better - going it alone or the possibility of having to fight this apparent gentleman off later. Well, the decision was made, that at least if he'd walked me to my hotel (and Blind Date purposely accommodate males and females in separate hotels, for just this reason - Phew!) At least I would be where I wanted to be, so if I had to run, I wouldn't be far away from knowing where I was. So I decided to be nice to this upstanding male ... and then he kissed me. I braced myself. Decided that that too, should be tolerated as a part of my plan!

When he did walk me back to my hotel, it necessitated walking hand in hand and talking. This I could deal with. Until he asked to come into the hotel for a nightcap. My heart raced, my brain flipped, I could feel the adrenaline sucking the colour out of my face, the closer we came to the door, the more confused I became as I was trying desperately hard to find an excuse not to let him in, when suddenly, a porter came out of the door, waved his finger in my face and told me in a broad foreign accent from somewhere in the world that I wasn't allowed to bring non-residents into the hotel. A smile tickled my face as I looked at him, watching his oversize hairy lip dance across his face as his mouth moved almost in a South Park kinda way, and asked in a sweet voice - now I knew my position, "Not even to the bar for a drink?", "Nor, 'e nor ressydent, 'e nor allow cum in 'ere. Yu nor listen to me, yu nor cum in too." Mmm ... Now I knew my place, I felt I had to abide by the rules of the hotel and turned to James and said in a very condescendingly, sympathetically, pathetic tone of voice, "Aww ... Never mind, but we'll see each other for lunch tomorrow!"

James took me to lunch at the overcharging, tacky establishment namely, Planet Hollywood. I tried the Swordfish steak, chortling over our experiences, as he was a successful candidate having come back to tell 'Our Cilla' that his date didn't like him. He told me that he worked in Aberdeen and is nicknamed, "The Singing Postie", for three reasons, the most obvious being a Postman, he is always smiling and cheerful and doesn't go anywhere without his Harmonica (as he displayed in the footage on Blind Date). He had a terrific sense of humour. He also told me that he was auditioning for Stars In Their Eyes (which was broadcast about 8 months after Blind Date singing a song entitled, "Mmm, Mmm, Mmm, Mmm" by the Crash Test Dummies. No, he didn't win, as no-one had ever heard of the song and so didn't know if he sounded like the original artist. Then he took me back to the hotel to collect my barely opened luggage, jumped in a black cab ran to the train station where I began my journey home chuckling at the memories that had been collected in my mind over the last few days and my thin escape from the perfect gentleman who just wasn't my type.

All in all, I had the most fantastic time. If I had the opportunity to do it all again I would, but there is only one thing I would change. Next time, I'd make sure I had a map handy!

I remember watching it for the first time. It was broadcast on television on Saturday 27 January 1996, I happened to make the mistake of telling my newly founded fellow Special Constables while I was on my first training weekend at Lewes Headquarters. Having been rather upset of not being able to watch it, I felt a little relief when I remembered I'd set up the video recorder back home. When Footie decided it would be a good idea to bundle everyone on the course into the Lecture Studio. Watching the room darken and the ever recognisable sound of the theme tune to Blind Date starting. Oh well, if I had the guts to eke it out in the beginning, the least I could do was to stand up to all the taunts I was to get ... but I didn't get any!!

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In reference to the Author's Product Ratings above and below:

How good are the presenters? Ordinary. Cilla's only one the highest (or was one of the highest) paid presenters on television. So what? I'm afraid that doesn't make her the most brilliant person that walked the planet. I was looking forward to meeting her, but her impression of us was that she was too good for the likes of us, so there's no love lost. In reference to the researchers, they're just people too!

How good is the content? Good. That's all I can say. It was the same stuff going round and round all the time which is why they called time on it. I watched one just before it ended and they used the same questions and answers to the show that I was on.

How does it compare to similar programmes? Ordinary. Okay, when it first started it was probably in a class of its own, but it did run a wee bit too long.

How good is the concept? Ordinary. They say sex sells, but wen you try and sell the same thing over and over, it becomes a bit boring.

Is it funny? Sometimes. There were a few bits that were funny and you occasionally got the odd character that made you hoot, but again, it ran for way too long.

Is it dramatic? Not remotely. Blind Date was never made to be dramatic. It was made to be bitchy, snappy, funny, quirky, but never dramatic.

How do you rate the overall style and design? Ordinary. The decor changed wirth every new series. But the overall design stayed the same.

How good are the contestants? Ordinary. Yes, that's me too! I'm ordinary. I'm no one special and expected to be treated as anything else. You occasionally got the odd contestant who was funny, cuddly, memorable, way-out-there, but they were few and far between.

Recommend to potential buyers? :o) Well, it's finished now, it was good for the experience but not recommended as a genuine search for love.

Overall rating? My experience was fabulous and I wouldn't change a thing, but on the face of it, for viewers, it's just Jo Average! 

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