Bingo nights
Traditionally called tombola, bingo nights are held as money making affairs throughout the island in football clubs during summer and early autumn evenings. We send two writers to try their hand and also give a more modern operation a turn
Monday nights are not typically regarded as the most eventful of the week but. Orpheas Football Club is slowly changing that for some Nicosia residents by organising something that is typically regarded as, well, uneventful. Orpheas offers a welcome change, in addition to grand prizes of up to £2,000, for bingo champions.
Located in the renovated Chrysaliniotissa district of old Nicosia, the club has been trying to bring the community back into the area after most locals fled following the 1974 invasion, and, if the bingo crowd is any indicator, Orpheas has succeeded. I went along to try my luck. Arriving at 8:30pm, we discovered that showing up half an hour early was a tactic mainly employed by the bingo pros as those who had beaten us there were quiet and focused on laying their boards out just right. We chose to sit on the pavement from where we were offered a wide-angle view of the table-strewn street in front of us.
Orpheas dominates its small corner of old Nicosia with its club, restaurant, music bar and park. About 150m to the right of where we were seated was the green line. After the invasion the club was given the authority to expand into the street during events in an effort to bring the community back together. On Monday evenings, this street now serves as host to numerous rows of white card tables awaiting the many families who come each week to test their luck.
As parents and grandparents sat down, youngsters took full advantage of the park. The smell of souvlaki is always present on Mondays, floating from the restaurant into the street. We could not resist trying it and found that the souvlaki was far from disappointing, better than what most places in the downtown area serve. Coupling the Greek cuisine with a big bottle of beer, we were ready to play. The serious players put on their bingo-goggles (or bifocals), to prepare their cards. Those tables occupied by the more avid bingo fans were hardly visible beneath rows of cards, each one promising more luck than the last.
Orpheas’ bingo nights go on for thirteen weeks each summer on Monday nights. It began in 1970 for members only but became more family focused after 1974. Despite the large grand prize, bingo nights are for families and community members, not professional bingo players, said club President Andreas Moyseos. “Bingo is targeted at families, to give the opportunity to members to come and enjoy, and to try their luck,” he said. Moyseos is also an economist and professor at Phillips College.
Each bingo board comes at a cost of £1, or players can purchase a set for £9. The proceeds go to support the Orpheas football team and to help with the club’s expenses. Though there are no increases in cost per bingo card, the prizes do increase with every round. The summer bingo nights kick off with prizes of £20 and end with the four celebration games in which winners are awarded £2,000. Compared to what I would spend for a couple hours on Makarios Avenue for a frappe and a conversation, £10 to do a little something different was a welcome change.
I expected bingo to look more white-haired and wrinkled but a cross section of society was present. Moyseos was correct in saying it was a night for families, but not the typical nuclear form that one might expect for such a wholesome activity. As the tables began to fill, I observed that many of the early comers were the first in a generation of bingo players. There were grandmothers setting up boards for their daughters and granddaughters. There was a large table of what appeared to be adolescent cousins and siblings. My husband and I were also happy to see another young couple searching for a good spot to park their cards.
The excitement really began with the game. The entire crowd took the caps off their paint markers and started shaking them with anticipation, the tension increased with every number called. As I filled in the numbers on my board, I began to see the attraction. If there was any talking or laughing at the beginning of the game, the social chatter was eliminated as more numbers were called. The gamers anxiously awaited the break of silence to come in the form of an “Opa!” or “Ela!.” This was always followed by a moment of grumbling as the numbers were read back. Mothers, fathers, grandchildren and cousins all either cheered or groaned together depending on the outcome of yet another round. We all hoped to be the next one to be able to break the silence.
Although I was feeling dizzy by the time we made it to the last few cards, I focused even harder on the numbers hoping that my luck would not fail. A quick glance around revealed that all the families shared this harmless addiction, hoping for themselves and each other that the next number would complete their set.
The game finally ended and although my luck had failed, I left with a warm feeling that there were still people who got together to share the same hope of winning big. After approaching the grand prize winner I realised that everyone goes for their own reasons. As he hurriedly stuffed his £1,000 cash prize into a small black pouch he declined to comment on his luck.
In Larnaca there was a similar family feel to the evening. We arrived at the Skylight Bar (every Thursday from 8pm) just before half time. The atmosphere was homely and Roy Cordon, bingo caller here for two years, was at the mike. “Oh, dearie me, three, all on its own”… “two and seven, a duck with a crutch… two large persons, eighty-eight”. So that’s where the fat ladies have gone, I thought. It is obviously not politically correct to mention them any more. Chirpy caller, Roy waved a wad of £700 amid cheers, banter and smiles – quickly followed by silence and serious “eyes down”. “Seventy-six – was he worth it? “Noooooo” the players crooned back.
This sounded like fun. We soon squeezed into the room and were seated at a small round table with a seasoned bingo addict, even before I spoke to her I could tell. “This one does nothing for me,” she said, referring to the Skylight. “The other one – it’s very good.” She was talking about the Bingo Hall on Dhekelia Road. “I go every day with my husband and play. I lost £1,000 in one month, and I won £350. They have £1,000 and £3,000 prizes. I left there at 2.30 am last night.”
She was not alone as after the first half of the evening was over people were queuing up to buy bingo tickets for the second half. Roy told me all the money raised goes back into the prizes. He was soon back at the microphone and the room fell quiet as he clearly explained the stakes – £20 for one line, £40 two lines, £100 for a full house.
I looked through my multi-coloured playing tickets. They were clipped in the correct order. It was £6 for six cards and I was now a member. As Roy began his banter, the emphasis was on fun. “On its own, up she pops, the lucky seven”.
“Legs eleven” was met with whistles and murmurs from the players. I concentrated hard; I didn’t want to make a “lulu” – an error. After 56 numbers were called, two winners called out simultaneously; the full house was shared to a round of applause. The last sheet was a flyer – £20 for any line, £50 for two lines on the same ticket, £261 for a full house. I didn’t win, but my bingo adventure had turned out to be a most endearing experience.
BINGO CALLS
1 Kelly’s eye/on its own/number one, just begun
2 Bird flu
4 Knock at the door
11 Chicken legs/legs eleven
13 Unlucky for some/lucky for some
16
Sweet sixteen
22 Two little ducks/all the twos
44 Droopy drawers/all the fours
45 Halfway there
57 Heinz varieties
59 Brighton line
90 Top of the house
A professional bingo hall that has recently opened in Larnaca provides a rather different experience that the cosy family affairs in clubs and pubs
By Sarah Antoniou
I was looking forward to hearing about the two little ducks, fat ladies and Dirty Gertie – which in bingo slang translate to the numbers 22, 88, and 30. We walked into the hall and the smoke hit us. The balls bobbed up and down in the random selecting machine and each number displayed on various screens around the huge hall. Mostly young Greeks sat at long tables. An Eastern European lady called out the numbers, first in Greek, followed quickly by English…. “drianda dria”….“sirty sree”.
We sat down and purchased a game sheet from one of the many circulating waitresses, sporting their green or yellow t-shirts, in keeping with the AEK theme of the venue. A football game aired around the room on the wall-mounted plasma television screens. The atmosphere felt masculine and the theme was most definitely gambling.
In the UK more than two in three people go to bingo for social, rather than financial, reasons and players often arrive well ahead of the start of the game to enjoy a meal or chat with friends. Celebrities including Mariah Carey, Denise van Outen and Elle MacPherson reportedly attend, and in 2004 more people attended bingo than league football matches – astonishing facts.
This was my first experience of bingo, ever. I looked at my game sheet. There were no instructions, my partner was none the wiser and the waitress did not offer any clues. “Dodeka”… “dwelve”… the caller began and I quickly started crossing out numbers in one of my boxes. Eventually, someone called out. They had won. A dispute followed as to whether the winner had actually won the first line. “Dria”…… “sree”, the caller continued, with no number slang expressions used, till a shout from somewhere in the room indicated someone had a full house.
With a wad of pound notes in one hand and a stack of game cards in the other, another waitress offered us another sheet. Bewildered, we showed her our sheets with only one box out of the six used. She laughed. “You were supposed to do all the boxes at the same time!” she said, and then called a male assistant over to explain the rules to us. I wondered if he would let us off our embarrassing beginner’s blunder and donate a new game card, but no, we had to pay again. Still, it was only £1 a sheet.
We soldiered on for a few more games. This time we kept up with the drone of the caller, while marking numbers in all six boxes. It felt like serious business. The stakes went up to £2 a sheet. The tables were filling up. It was almost ten o’clock. The jumbo prize of £3,000, we had heard, would not be played till nearer one or two in the morning. It was almost “legs eleven” (11pm). The air conditioning could not cope and eventually we felt all smoked out, put on our “chicken legs” and left.
Bingo Hall, Dhekelia Road, Larnaca, Open Every Night from 8pm
