Hills are big in Cardiff

I was surprised and delighted to receive an invitation from Phil Quayle to go to Cardiff to watch one of the heats for the William Hill Grand Prix being filmed. I was really excited, not only were there some fantastic heats, but it was filmed in the same studios as the benchmark TV series, ‘Late Night Poker’ the spiritual home of TV poker

I arranged to travel down with Ralph, (karabiner) who had also been invited, it was impossible to decide which would be the best heat to watch, they were all so good, in the end we decided to go on Wednesday and just before noon Ralph arrived to pick me up. He was driving a beautiful red 3.2 litre Honda Coupe that belonged to his late father; it really was a great car, comfortable, powerful and whisper quiet, it swept us off towards the valleys

We had a good trip, for once the roads were clear, the weather good (except for a brief and unexpected squall), it only lasted two minutes but a lot of cars were forced to stop, so much water fell that it was impossible to see, it didn’t faze Ralph one bit, he just switched to navigating by sense of smell and we continued our journey. If you ever catch Ralph in a talkative mood, shut up and listen. He has lived a fascinating life and tells wonderful stories one after the other, he’s great company and wickedly funny. Before I knew it, we were there

Phil Quayle (may his braces never dangle) had put us up at the Hilton no less, and Ralph and I, pretending to be nonchalant while elbowing each other like schoolboys, strolled in, tossed the car keys to the valet and signed the register. To our amazement, we had not one, but two huge double rooms with massive en suite bathrooms and all the five star creature comforts. After a quick ‘power shower’ we made a phone call to Phil and a limo was despatched to take us to the venue, I was being looked after in the manner to which I have…n’t become accustomed

The TV studio was in an industrial unit on an estate, it looked the same as all the other units except there was one of those big outside broadcast vans in the car park, but as soon as you opened the door, you could tell it was TV land. For a start the doors were about two feet thick, (soundproof I guess) and there were no windows, busy looking people flitted about carrying cables, tripods, microphones, cameras and clipboards

We were greeted like long lost sons by Mr Quayle (may his pipes never empty) and shown into the ‘Green Room’ here, lounging, chatting, laughing and working were an eclectic mixture of the great and the good. World-class poker players, big hitters from William Hills, ‘A’ list writers, commentators, and possibly the best production team ever assembled

I tried very hard not to appear star struck, but it’s not easy when the likes of Jessie May, Andy Black, Vicky Coren or Ian Bradley come over to have a chat, It’s very strange when people that you are used to seeing on the telly bring you a coffee or ask you for your opinion

I must say a quick word about Jessie May, I always saw him as a bit too loud and a bit too American, if you know what I mean, well I’m unashamedly doing a 180, he is one of the nicest, funniest and most talented blokes it has ever been my pleasure to meet. He entertained us all day, slipping effortlessly in and out of commentator mode, running a book on the heat and constantly shouting out ever changing odds, committing bets to memory, cracking jokes and playing some kind of word game with Vicky Coren on a scrap of paper, all this while wearing a McEnrow style headband that made his hair stand completely vertical, and a pair of white Gucci shoes that were very pointed and at least six sizes too big

Someone had mentioned to Phil Quayle (may his loft be fungus free) that I am very interested in the ‘nuts and bolts’ side of TV, so he made sure I saw all the stuff the viewers don’t get to see, he took me on to the set and it was amazing, the TV table was in the middle of a room on a slightly raised platform, there was a backdrop that represented city lights and there was about forty five tons of cameras and lights suspended from the ceiling on scaffolding, when you see it on the screen it looks totally different, but fantastic

I was also allowed to sit in on a few interviews, first up was Lucy Rocach, she must be an interviewers dream, he asked a question, she gave an informative, witty, comprehensive answer, first time, every time. Next up was Phil, ‘The Unabomber’ Laak, in contrast to Lucy, his interview was, shall we say “different”

Phil Laak is positioned on sofa; interviewer (sorry, forgot his name, the bloke that accompanies Rhow everywhere) sits on a coffee table and faces him

Q, “How did you get your Nickname?”

A, “I just realised this today, when you play poker and the cameras can see your hole cards, that means that this image is filling the room in the form if electricity, now there is a theory that this information can be transmitted to others if they can tune in to the magnetic energy…. blather waffle jabber”

A full 10 minutes pass, he doesn’t stop to draw breath, no one understands a word of what he is saying, the interviewer’s smile is now a tortured mask, the onlookers are doing a fantastic job of stifling laughter, I am biting my tongue, on the verge of hysterics, The Unabomber goes on..

“Is the spoon really there, if it isn’t, why not become the spoon? The spoon knows all…. blather waffle jabber…..”

Another 10 minutes of complete nonsense, the interviewer now has stubble on his chin, his eyes have a haunted look, silently beseeching us to help him, I lean toward Phil Quayle (may his rash spread no further) and whisper “bloody hell, he only asked how he got his nickname” Mr Quayle loses control and dashes into a corridor, meanwhile, Bomber continues..

“It is possible, I believe, to make use of things we know nothing about, the spoon is the thing to be, who among us has the power to be the spoon…blather waffle jabber…”

By now, at least in my imagination, the long dead interviewer has become a skeleton, I have no idea how I am keeping a straight face, Ralph, sotto voice says “put the clock on him” For me this is the last straw, it totally cracks me up, I too dash into the corridor to find half a dozen people rolling about on the floor, silently crying with laughter.

How did the interview end, no idea, I dare not go back, and for all I know it may be still going on

When we had recovered from the Laak monologue enough to be able to walk upright, we were taken to see what goes on in the outside broadcast vehicle, loads of technical wizardry and stuff, huge multi screen monitors (we could see the players hole cards) computers with attendant geeks inputting data and displaying win percentages for the viewers, Lucy and Jessie adding commentary, I could have stayed all day but someone shouted “Lunch is served”

It was a close run thing, Antonio Esfandiari’s actress girlfriend was standing in the kitchen, plate in hand when the call came, so I had to step lively to be first in the queue

The caterers had provided a wonderful spread, three different main courses, a magnificent salad bar (if you like that sort of thing) and loads of chocolate covered, cream laden, mega calorie desserts, the American actress lady, who was behind me as I made my selections (everything) had obviously been forewarned by some wag about British cuisine because I overheard her asking “does that contain pigs blood? well what about this, does this have pigs blood in it?” I bumped into her again after the meal and asked her politely, “How did you like the pigs blood gravy?” she covered her mouth with her hand and left the room before I could tell her I was joking

The poker resumed after the lunch break and the game was really hotting up as the blinds started to bite, I won’t talk about the result, save to say that we all sat riveted to the monitor until the final hand, the exact time of which was predicted, to the second, by Ralph when we arrived. It was a terrific game, not surprising considering the quality of the players involved, I can’t wait to see it on telly so that I can see the hole cards, that will defiantly be an education

Several limo’s were summoned and we repaired to the Hilton en masse, on the way there we came to a roundabout that had a ‘modern art’ sculpture in the middle of it composed of dozens of different road signs, “Bloody hell” someone said, “I bet that confuses foreign drivers” Ralph, in his deadpan way replied, “I bet Phil Laak could understand it”

We congregated in one of several bars at the Hilton and Phil Quayle (may his sheets be absorbent) started a tab and told everyone to help themselves to anything they wanted, I expected such a genteel crowd to be a little shy so I took a step forward, inadvertently putting myself between the ugly mob and the alcohol, I was almost killed in the stampede. I’m not much of a drinker, but one or two others made up for my shortcomings and seemed determined to make some sort of dent in William Hill's expense account, Willie wasn’t at all bothered it seems, and to prove it he provided us with a sumptuous dinner

Someone suggested we round off the day by playing a £20 re buy, we were well fed and well lubricated, it sounded like a capital idea

We were loud, unruly and to the layman, must have looked somewhat threatening but we were provided with a waiter and deck of cards and ushered into a conference room complete with the biggest table I have ever seen, it was like a meeting of the United Nations, the only difference being we were talking more sense

What a line up!

We had, amongst others,

Jessie May, sporting his pineapple hair do and enormous white shoes

Victoria Coren, wearing a Britney Spears ‘Hit me baby one more time’ outfit

Karabiner

Jessie’s almost comatose mate Sam ‘

‘Smokin’ Steve Ladar

Mrs ‘Bad Girl’ Ladar

The guy who did the Phil Laak Interview, still looking a bit shell shocked

Ian ‘At It’ Bradley

Phil Quayle (may his loins be ever fruitful)

Me

‘At it’ nominated himself as tournament director, dealer and bouncer, he announced loudly (He does everything loudly) “Ok guys, one re buy, one top up, lets go” and we were off

The game had a surreal, dream like quality, for one thing the proceedings were being filmed, and the sound and camera men were running around and around the huge table to zoom in on the players hole cards and record the verbal's, the players themselves seemed to do and say the same things every hand, it went something like this

Me “Check”

Jessie “Is there a jack on the flop?” (He said this even when there was no flop, but we cut him some slack because he was the worse for drink and anyway the flop was at least 15 yards away from him) “Ok, I call” at this point someone always asked him to explain how the dealer button (a milk jug) worked, and every single time he would drop effortlessly into commentator mode, a la Late Night Poker and recite the familiar formula, then he would lean towards me, show me the two ‘wrong end’ blank corners of his cards and announce “I always look at my cards like this, Hell, I could have anything!”

Vicky Coren would either pass or lean right out across the table to see the flop, treating ‘At It’ to the full frontal view and me to the rear view, twice this ploy caused us to bet into her monster hand

‘Smokin’ Steve would raise

‘At It’ would do the worst acting job ever seen before re raising or passing

‘Bad Girl’ would ask, “Did he ra?” “I go or in!”

Comatose Sam would wake up and say “Bring me another drink, I call”

And so it went on, until Comatose Sam knocked me out at about 3am. Never have I enjoyed losing my money so much, it was a pleasure and a privilege, a magical end to an unbelievable day

Are William Hills serious about poker? Yes, I think they are!