Crowds turn out to back bingo

By Justin Parkinson
BBC News political reporter

It was a very British protest.

There was an open-top bus, not to mention rhyming slang and more than a few angry pensioners.

Demonstrators came from far and wide (well, mostly from south of Birmingham) to Westminster to decry what they call a government attack on the traditional British bingo hall.

About 70 clubs have closed recently.

Operators place much of the blame on a change which means bingo companies' profits are now taxed at 22%, rather than 15%.

In the heat of mid-summer, about 300 club staff and regular players shouted across the road at the Palace of Westminster to get this point across.

Chants win prizes

A bingo caller urged them to raise their voices, in order to get MPs "to their office windows".

Sadly, he overlooked the fact that prime minister's questions was going on at the time - what you might call a guaranteed "full house" in the Commons chamber.

Bingo is life and death for a lot of people, particularly the elderly in the afternoons Paul Talboys, Bingo Association

Still, the throng obediently put on masks bearing the image of Chancellor Alistair Darling - after they were warned that those failing to do so "won't win any prizes".

An open-top double-decker, carrying more protesters, got a huge cheer each time it drove back and forth between Parliament Square and another roundabout to the west.

Paul Talboys, chief executive of the Bingo Association, explained the passion: "Bingo is life and death for a lot of people, particularly the elderly in the afternoons.

"There's not many places you can go nowadays where you can meet friends, have a cup of tea, even a glass of beer and maybe even win a few bob.

"They have fun and, without that, it's something else gone from local communities. It can't be right."

'Very social thing'

The industry estimates another 30 or so Bingo halls could go in the next few months without a tax reduction.

Sandra Thompson, from Castleford, West Yorkshire, plays the game every week.

She said: "Without it I wouldn't have any adult conversation or anything like that, because I don't like going to the pub.

"When you go to the bingo you're home by half-past-nine and there's no trouble or owt, so bingo's everything to people like us."

Her friend Jayne Wilson added: "It's a very social thing. People aged anything from 18 to 100 come and we have fun. There's gossip and everyone gets on. It's not something we should let go of."

Mask of sorrow: The chancellor was heavily criticised

Bingo enjoyed a boom in the 1960s and is still hugely popular, although the online version of the game has found favour with many players.

A national game - where clubs linked up via computer - started in 1986. As of 2003, this had paid out £725,179,338.

But perhaps bingo's biggest gift is to the English language. The number 88 is forever known as "two fat ladies", 66 as "pick up sticks".

Meanwhile, "legs 11" and and "lucky seven" are common phrases.

At Westminster, the placards bounced up and down by the demonstrators were a reminder of bingo's native wit.

One, a rebuke to MPs over the expenses scandal, read: "Full Houses. Not second homes."

Another served as a direct reminder of bingo's tax issue: "One and Five keeps Bingo alive."

In typical saucy postcard fashion, a sign urged: "Hands off our balls." More sombrely, one said: "4,000 jobs lost already."

The most unexpected display of emotion came when a man mounted the steps underneath the statue of King George V to deliver a reggae-tinged salute to his local bingo hall manager.

The recipient managed an embarrassed half-smile.

Britain is changing, but Bingo's fans do not want the government to speed up the demise of their favourite institution.

Mr Darling's move has the industry - and many communities - worried.

In the bingo halls of Britain, his card is marked.