Dead Giveaway by Simon Brett

a party from the Braintree Afternoon Club? Oh yes, there they were! Well, a really big hello to them. Didn’t they look lovely? And were they all set to have a lovely time? Good, yes, that was the spirit. Now, as he said, it was going to be a really lovely show, and to make the show really go with a swing, he wanted to hear lots of lovely laughter and applause from the lovely audience. Would they be lovely enough to oblige him? Good, yes, that was lovely. Now, of course, at W.E.T., they didn’t have little men holding up signs saying ‘LAUGH’ and ‘APPLAUD’. What they were after was spontaneous reactions. On the other hand, there could be one or two moments when the audience might need to be told when these spontaneous reactions were required, her, her. So, if they saw him, Charlie, or one of the Floor Managers . . . Ooh, they’d like to meet the Floor Managers, wouldn’t they? Yes, of course they would. Lovely fellows they were, the Floor Managers, lovely fellows. And here they were. Say a lovely big hello. Lovely. So, anyway, if he, Charlie, or one of the Floor Managers raised their arms
like this,
would they please regard it as a cue to applaud and not a signal that they should leave the room, her, her. Lovely, right, good. Well, it would just be a few minutes before they got on with the show, so perhaps he could tell them a rather lovely story he’d heard a few days before about an Irishman who went into a cafe and ordered a hot dog . . .
    Eventually, Charlie Hook introduced their lovely host for the evening’s proceedings, someone they all knew very well from countless other shows, one of the loveliest, most genuine people and one of the most popular faces on British Television – Mr – Barrett – Doran!
    As soon as he came on to the set, Barrett switched his charm on like a light-bulb. He chatted with members of the audience, told them he felt terribly nervous, reiterated how important their contribution to the success of the evening would be, explained a little about the mechanics of the game and then introduced ‘our four celebrity guests, who will be playing
If The Cap Fits
with us tonight!’
    The celebrities came on, with varying degrees of ostentation, and sat down behind their long blue desk. Barrett Doran told the audience that, once the show started, they would be meeting some delightful (and very plucky!) contestants who had also agreed to take part in
If The Cap Fits.
He then asked the Floor Manager how ready everyone was to start the recording. Had to check with ‘the boffins in the box’, he explained to the audience. Terrific production team they’d got on the show. Great Executive Producer, John Mantle. Really talented Producer, Jim Trace-Smith. Really great back-up team, as well. All great chums, one big happy family. How about a nice round of applause for all those people out of sight whose contribution was so important in making the evening the success it was absolutely bound to be?
    The audience duly applauded.
    There were a few more delays, but finally the recording was ready to commence. Members of the audience were advised to watch the monitors rather than the set, because the opening credits were on film. The audience duly gawped up at their monitors. They saw the clock which was used to identify the programme. It was started and ticked away for sixty seconds. For the last three of these the screen went blank.
    Animated credits of cartoon figures changing hats appeared. High-pitched jingle voices sang out the words as the title,
If The Cap Fits,
appeared in silver letters on the screen. A deep, unseen voice intoned portentously, ‘And tonight, on
If The Cap Fits,
our star prizes include . . . a portable video-recorder and lightweight camera . . .’
    A shot of this hardware, carried by a grinning, bikini-clad Nikki, was shown on the screen. ‘Ooh,’ went the audience, and applauded.
    ‘. . . a champagne weekend for two in Amsterdam . . .’
    An inappropriate clip of a Dutch