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Who Wants To Make A Deal

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Noel Edmonds sat gripping the arm of the big stupid chair. The spotlights beamed down across him. There were literally almost 50 people in the studio audience but all he could see was Chris Tarrant opposite him, his crusty face full of fake tan leaking slightly. This was it. He'd made it to the second to final round. If he answers this question, he gets a cool half a million which for a normal person would be a life changing amount. He whimpered a little.

"Here's your question, Noel," Chris whispered, making a kissy face at Noel.

Q) DEAL OR NO DEAL?

A) THE AFRICAN ELEPHANT
B) THE GIRAFFE
C) THE EUROPEAN ELEPHANT
D) ALL HOMINIDS

Noel choked a little bit. "Uh..." he began.

"It's okay to think a little. Take your time," Chris said, his face leaking a little bit on to his suit.

Noel cleared his throat. "I think there's something wrong with the question. None of those answers make sense."

"You still have all three lifelines available," said Chris, "would you like to phone a friend? Or go 50/50?"

Noel looked again. None of the answers seemed to fit. "Chris... Christopher..." he said, staring in to Tarrant's eyes which were now sagging heavily and melting due to the heat of the spotlights. "Chris, I'd like to phone a friend."

The spotlights wheeled around and the music cue started. "Who would you like to phone?" Chris said, as he gently melted in to a waxy puddle on the floor leaving a soggy suit behind.

Noel looked dreamily off in to space and stroked his beard. "The Banker. I'd like to phone the Banker."

Chris Tarrant had evaporated.