The advert said: "Meet Steve Coogan and win £100 in CASH!"
It said stuff about who to ring and the rest, but I won't bore you with that now. I rang the number, spoke to the brother of the bloke in The Mock Turtles and arranged to meet.
In a disused warehouse, somewhere off the North Circular was a portakabin like the one Michael Caine is brainwashed in during 'The I.P.C.R.E.S.S. File'. Cosy like. Outside, dressed as Tony Ferrino, I was met by Steve Coogan [dressed as Steve Coogan].
Inside we were not alone. Reading left to right [or if you're chinese, left to right], Coogan, Bricktop [the cockney thug], Mrs Elsie Lanyard [aged 67] and Hunstanton P. "Bish-Bash-Bosh" McAli [light-heavyweight boxing champion of Dulwich]. I was introduced of course, there was no way of guessing all that other information.
"Edward", started Coogan, "congratulations on making it this far in the quest for one hundred pounds. You have been chosen for three reasons over and above the other entrants; 1) You can drive 2) Mrs Elsie Lanyard [aged 67] liked your picture and 3) You look like you could fight a bit but not too much. Now here's the deal: We'll give you one hundred pounds in, we're speculating here, used fivers if you can a) Accompany Bricktop to the Dulwich branch of HSBC and *cockney accent* turn it over. You'll be driving. Or b) Make a short, instructive video that may or may not contain scenes of a sexual nature with Mrs Elsie Lanyard [aged 67]..."
*wink* from Mrs L [aged 67]
"...or c) Go toe-to-toe, man-on-man, mano-on-mano, glove-to-glove, for richer for poorer over three three-minute rounds against Hunstanton P. "Bish-Bash-Bosh" McAli [he's a boxer]."
I stroked my chin, which didn't respond.
The bank job was tempting but the chance of being banged up for armed robbery didn't inspire [I was guessing about the tools, but it was daylight and within normal business hours so a good guess]. Mrs Elsie Lanyard [I'm guessing between 65 & 70] seemed a nice enough sort but, really. As for Hunstanton P. [I later found out it stood for 'Philadelphia', not because he was from there but it's his favourite cheese] "Bish-Bash-Bosh" McAli, I reckoned I could take him easy.
Steve, 'Top & Els seemed disappointed with my choice. Reassuringly, so did 'Phil.
The ring was shabby, the ropes were not strong enough to actually keep you in the ring if you so much as leaned on them, there was no bell [someone had brought a triangle along] and all four corners were red, which confused the announcer.
I've seen the "Thriller In Manila", but poor old Hunstanton Doo-Dah couldn't fight his way into a manila envelope, let alone out of a paper bag. I caught him with a south or north paw, I can't remember, and next thing I know his mum is in the ring attacking me with her shoe. Three stitches.
After the blood was mopped up...
"Edward, congratulations. To be honest we weren't expecting this result - I for one was sure you'd go for the bank job - which is why we don't have the hundred pounds, which would probably have been in used fivers, to give you. Luckily, Mrs Elsie Lanyard [still young enough to hold a driver's license] has agreed to escort Bricktop to HSBC.
In the meantime, the posh bloke out of #Gogglebox is here to give you your trophy.
Enter, the worse for two bottles of red, Dom Parker, holding one of those tiny cups, a proportionally accurate F.A. Trophy just big enough for an egg.
"Whatto", piped Dom, "well done and all that, top fisticuffs, I say, couldn't do me a favour old chap? I'm not sure I'm safe to drive, what with them having a television next door and an open bar. Deliver this box of chockies to my Auntie Glenda in Barstead Avenue on your way home and there's an extra quid in it for you..."
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