Telly from Helly

"We're never getting out of here, are we?" a woman in the seat behind me whispered to her friend.

Who knew being trapped in a television studio would feel so much like prison?

Miranda and I thought it would be fun to go see a British game show taping and got very lost in the BBC complex in the freezing rain trying to find it. We made it to the right studio late and therefore lost our place in line for the show we were meant to see, "Would I Lie to You?" Instead, we were ushered into the line for a show we'd never heard of called "Ding Dong." The host is Alan Carr, a cheeky gay man who cracks jokes in-between hosting a game show where celebrities go up against civilians to win some prize which may or may not actually exist.

At first we were excited. "Look at all the lights," I squealed as we were seated in the second row. Cameras wooshed over our heads and the audience went wild.

A guy came out to rile us up and he was making audience members get up and gyrate and do the rumba. He basically insulted everyone he could see and somehow, the crowd found that funny.

It wasn't long until the show began, and almost instantly, so did my own personal hell.

There was some British trailer park-esque celeb, kind of like Larry the Cable Guy, named Johnny, and he wouldn't shut up through the whole taping. He was heckling the other team and heckling the host so much that they had to extend the taping. I think he was drunk. The celebs were talking about how privileged they are and the host kept insulting the civilians, making them sound like total idiots.

The show was dull and unfunny and lasted three hours. We were literally trapped in the studio. Our butts hurt. Our brains hurt. We were tired and hungry. Our only comfort came from the fact that we were all in this together, all two hundred of us dumb, unfamous civilians.