“I like it!”
Remember the short-lived 1980s helicopter-based game show Interceptor?
Er, Jamie does…
Spoiler alert: youre the robots.
The nightmare seemed significantly longer.
It dont make us feel good; and furthermore youve really upset Lynne Truss).
Eight measly hours, including adverts.
It struck such a deep, resonating chord within my nine-year-old soul that something of an existential crisis followed.
I didnt want to be me or Peter Venkman anymore: I wanted to be the Interceptor.
Although my request was granted, subsequent pleas for a helicopter fell upon deaf ears.
My memory may have exaggeratedInterceptors presence and influence, but its quality that counts, right?
After all, there are only 12 episodes ofFawlty Towers, and its rightly celebrated as a classic.
Maybe eight is just right.
(I say scoured.
Oh, hubris, thy foul wretch!
Oh, time, time, thou unspeakably cruel mistress!
Oh, Peter, Peter, thanks for taking my call.
Listen, about 1989… em, I was in a bad place then, and… Ive still got my proton pack, and I…
I wonder if it isnt too late?
I never should have said that busting dont make me feel good.
The contestants are then blindfolded and flown by helicopter to locations seven miles apart.
Cor blimey, as I live and breathe.
However, time isnt their only enemy.
His helicopter is piloted by a guy called Mikey, whom the Interceptor berates ceaselessly.
Their snarky, passive-aggressive banter evokes the spirit of two deeply unhappy people slowly suffocating inside a loveless marriage.
The Interceptor has two main gimmicks.
I guess the other kids mustve loved him for that.
His other gimmick is his inimitable catchphrase, I LIKE IT!
Her first task is to ascertain where they are on her map.
Youre in a field, are you?
Im pretty sure this green stuff is grass, but I wouldnt bet my life on it.
OK, are there any other helpful landmarks that you could see?
Em… yes, I think so?
Sometimes Annabel will ask: Is there a signpost anywhere?
just to demonstrate that shes the zen master of orienteering.
Annabel, bless her, is a bad choice of host.
Shes too posh, plummy and fawn-like to exist in the no-nonsense, high-octane world ofInterceptor.
(I guess Ive just described family programming.)
The title sequence is a crystallisation of this confusion.
The show operates on three tiers, which come together to form a delicious class-status cake.
Posh Annabel is obviously at the top, always looking like shed rather be out riding horses.
The contestants are the middle-class filling, a medley of Trevors and Poppies.
Watching Annabel guide the contestants through the game is like watching the Queen herding accountants.
Most of the contestants time is spent perching nervously on the back of milk floats screaming Annabel?!
Especially when the stooges make a run at act coy: Give you a lift?
Fans will always tell you that the Interceptors tractor ambush is the shows greatest moment.
Thank you for coming with me on my chopper-based trip down memory lane.
If they ever bringInterceptorback, perhaps I should audition to be a contestant.
