Lottery – Wayne 59

[For a quick guide go here: Quick guide.]

[Old back story is here: Story so far at 30 Nov 2020 and read more recent Wayne episodes especially this one.]

[Other back story through in-links.]

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There was a respectable level of live viewer via the instagram feed. Part of Wayne was well chuffed, but naturally there was another part of him who thought it wasn’t nearly enough. But there again, these were difficult times and he was essentially doing an over the top raffle announcement. It wasn’t a big thing.

“So, guys, let me tell you,” he said, “We have just five minutes to go before the big draw. Honestly, I don’t know if I can contain my excitement.”

Jezzy looked up from under his baseball cap - “Contain it man,” he said. “Contain it.”

Wayne sniggered, triggered the next backing track and slammed into the latest tune from him and Jezzy’s collaboration. 

The numbers could also be forgiven because of the timing of the event. Wayne and Cath had decided to pull the trigger on the front room gig, throw a bit of a spark of life at their audience at a time of stress and disappointment. Do something different and get something lined up for when things really did ease up. If they found out where the front room gig was going to be now, then they could prepare over the next four weeks and still get traction from it.

That at least was the idea.

“Strictly speaking you can do the front room gig whenever,” Cath had said yesterday. “Strictly speaking.”

“When you say ‘strictly’ what do you mean?”

“I mean there’s nothing that would stop you from turning up at someone else’s house, being invited into their front room and playing.”

“But…?”

“We can’t throw a load of technical people at it to make it look and sound good. Probably just be you, a guitar and a phone on a tripod. Maybe Jezzy. And that’s assuming there are people out there who’ll want you to turn up and sing in their house in the first place.”

“Do I have to sing in a mask?”

“Might be advisable. Or at least that you wear a mask when you’re not singing.”

“Bit counteractive to not wear it to sing, right?

“Depends how close you are to them and how big the room is.”

There was a pause.

“You still there?” asked Cath.

“What about dancing? They can dance right?”

“Nah,” said Cath. “Not for the next four weeks. Not inside. The BBC said a dance floor outside would be advised against but legal restrictions apply to indoor dancing.”

“Dancing is an arrestable offence?”

“Kind of, yeah. The information is about weddings, but it’s sort of the same.”

There was a pause.

“You still there?” asked Cath.

“Yeah. Just wondering if I can turn the mask into a gimmick.”

“What, the Masked Singer? Done to death I would have thought.”

“Yeah,” said Wayne. “I’d need to do it different.”

“I saw some bloke in a paper mache head the other day. Old act called Frank Sidebottom. He was the first Masked Singer I reckon. Nothing new on the face of the planet.”

Turmoil and confusion had struck (yet) again with freedom on the 21st June now not being freedom on 21st June but freedom on 19th July. Over the weekend Wayne had gradually felt a level of dread and despondency stepping closer and closer around his shoulders, weighing him down significantly by the time they got to Sunday night. Even Dave, upbeat about the future, now had a level of leadenness to his demeanour. Sure he could go on operating as he was and that at least was something, but it wasn’t the joy and celebration and maxed out tables he was hoping for. And the evening before he’d spent standing down the staff he’d previously put on standby which did not make for a very enjoyable night in.

And so the moment had come. There had been much debate as to how they’d make the final selection. Names in a hat, computer programme with randomised names, pet guinea pig to run out and choose the first letter of the winner’s second name and then…

They went for the random computer programme. Cath had it loaded up. She had a feed on her screen showing the names in the database and a special window that would effectively flash up the winning entry.

“Drum roll please!” requested Wayne and Jezzy, unable to resist, rolled a snare drum across the floor of Wayne’s apartment, giggling way too much as he did so.

The names clicked rapidly through until the only legible one arrived on Cath’s screen.

Name: David & Naomi Johnson. Location: Berkhamsted.