Not Your Mother's Bingo

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A tense silence falls over the room. Three hundred people sit motionless, eyes down, concentrating on the cards in front of them. Their felt-tipped pens hover over the numbers, ink cobras ready to strike. The air is thick with anticipation, or at least cigarette smoke. Then the man up onstage begins his ritual call: "One and two, 12. All the sixes, 66 ?" Suddenly, the place is alive with movement — hands zipping back and forth, dabbing at the cards with sniper-like precision. Everyone racing to be the first to fill a row, two rows or a full house. Racing to win.

Okay, so granted that bingo, a favored pastime of Britain's comfy slipper set, will never pass for an extreme sport. But recently the industry has been working hard to shake off its old-age image. With some success: in any given week, around 3 million people play bingo across the U.K. and almost half are under 45; 10 years ago, the average age was 55. The electronica band Lemon Jelly opened recent concerts with a bingo game instead of a supporting band. "Bingo is the only female-dominated leisure pursuit," says Richard Sowerby, marketing director for Gala Group, one of Britain's two biggest bingo operators. "We target women in their mid-to-late thirties because they're equally happy to go along with their mothers or sit alongside someone who's 19. It's a secure environment, as opposed to others that are male-dominated like clubs and pubs."

True, the average bingo game is unlikely to break out into a brawl. But if the industry thrives on young blood, it may need something more tempting than civilized behavior. As older punters literally die off, operators have to entice their children and grandchildren to carry on the bingo tradition. "We're keeping the bucket topped up," says Sowerby. "We need to get people to join earlier and keep them interested." One way is through advertising. In one television spot, a young woman abandons a night of sex for a game of bingo (doubtful). In another, four glamorous ladies with nicknames like Four Leaf (the lucky one) and the Virgin (the first-timer) flirt with good-looking men over their "daubers," the fat felt-tipped pens used to mark numbers (improbable). The idea is that bingo offers all the excitement of a nightclub, but without the flashing lights or the pounding soundtrack.

When this reporter embedded in a bingo hall, however, I found that reality didn't quite hold up. In the brightly lit, smoky room, perhaps four of the 300 players were men, none in imminent danger of being ogled by young females. Not that there were many of those. Perhaps 10% were under 40. The women, clad in T shirts and jogging pants, munch on fish and chips and sip beer. Hipster jeans? Think hip replacement. It's less Sex and the City, more The Golden Girls.

But there have been successful efforts to modernize. Industry officials say they spend tens of millions making bingo halls more youth-friendly and installing state-of-the-art equipment. The Ping-Pong balls with numbers painted on are gone. Instead, a computer randomly selects the numbers and displays them on a digital screen overhead. The quaint bingo lingo is no more: the two little ducks (22) have flown the coop and the two fat ladies (88) have walked off on their legs eleven (11). But innovation has its limits: an attempt to replace the daubers and paper cards with a small contraption the size of a Palm Pilot bombed. If the machine's power failed mid-game, all would be lost — and then there might just be a punch-up. Speak to the younger players, though, and it's clear the real draw is not the glitz but the cash. Winnings can range from ?15 to ?1.5 million and someone nabs a prize every three minutes. With a bingo tax cut included in Britain's new budget, players will now take home more prize money. Nineteen-year-old Nicola Frew likes those odds. After being dragged to a game by her mother, she pocketed ?650. Now she plays three times a week. "I just enjoy the adrenaline," she says. "The rush you feel waiting for that one number." The game is strangely addictive. After the initial shock of seeing women four decades my senior with better hand-eye coordination than me, I fall into a hypnotic rhythm. Frenzy turns to fantasy as I diligently daub, picturing the apartment I will buy with my winnings. No luck, I'm still renting. The bingo stigma may have worn off, but will Grandma's gambling really become the hippest trend? Don't bet on it.