No 3655 Set by John O'Byrne

We asked you for suggestions (after Big Brother) for a new TV series that is so mind-numbingly crass and off-the-wall that even Channel 5 would pass it up.

Report by Ms de Meaner

This was an extremely difficult comp to judge. I was, as you know, after bad taste and mind-numbing crassness. But . . . only up to a point, Lord Copper. Too much of it and you went straight into the "file in bin" tray. For example, there was George Cowley's entry, which began: "Ten naked Welsh farmers enter a large field containing ten ewes . . . " And, as for Angela Earthy's Mein Kamp, the "new death-camp sitcom" complete with gold teeth and Zyklon B gas - shudder! There were quite a few set in mental hospitals, but R J Pickles's was best. I was sorry to lose Silverlink Challenge from Sue May ("the object of the show is to get as many stressed-out people as possible into a railway carriage . . . then to transport them across London in as unpleasant a way as possible"), which spoke volumes to this regular traveller on the Northern Line. £20 to the winners; the vouchers go to Geoff Thurman. Oh, and Connie Yapp, you are right. Many apologies.

Competitors for Hostage to Fortune will be chosen by running a "Win a Mediterranean Holiday" competition, then selecting the lucky plane-load. Their flight will be "hijacked" by armed gunmen, one of whom is the show's host, and flown to a secluded desert airstrip. They will be unaware throughout that they are being filmed by hidden cameras all over the aeroplane and are taking part in a game show.

To provide atmosphere, sporadic gun battles (using blanks) will be held between the gunmen and armed military personnel positioned all around the runway. After three days, the plastic containers will have been emptied of all food, and the contestants will take it in turns to sit in the pilot's seat and explain to their captors why they, in particular, should be released. The public will have two days to vote for the winner of the big cash prize. At the end of the week, the contestants will be offered an eight-minute counselling slot, in case the excitement of discovering that they have been on television and the internet proves to be too much. Parts of these sessions will be shown on the special highlights programme.

Geoff Thurman

Each contestant enters a bullock in the Abattoir Quiz. The animal activates a number flashed up on a screen by walking across a series of pads. The contestant with the highest number has the choice of drinking a pint of blood, making way for the next contestant or electing to slaughter his bullock in ten seconds. A successful despatch wins £1,000. The contestant can double his money (£2,000) by skinning and butchering his animal in five minutes as the second contestant is drinking his blood or slaughtering his beast. The money can be doubled once again (£4,000) by incorporating a portion of the animal's meat in a recipe chosen by the studio audience as the third contestant is drinking blood or slaughtering his bullock and the second contestant is butchering his. Number one can double it again (£8,000) by consuming at least a kilo of the prepared beef in 15 minutes as the second contestant cooks and the third contestant butchers. Anyone who fails to complete his section in the time limit is dunked in a vat of blood by his rivals.

Connie Yapp

Fly-on-the-wall cameras are installed in the wing of a mental hospital. Staff are told they are for extra security.

Six competitors, say, are infiltrated into the unit over a period of days, ensuring that they are not known to each other or that a consultant psychiatrist has been imported from another institution. Each "inmate" competes against the others to see who can convince the viewers and the psychiatrists that he/she is insane and needs to stay there longer. The competitor who remains longest wins a big cash prize and the chance of a future in the media.

Every week, viewers are entertained by the antics of all the inmates for an hour and vote out the "patient" they think is sane. If a genuine inmate is chosen, he/she is transferred to another institution or, if the viewers demand, placed in community care, or simply released.

The amusement is enhanced by the fact that the genuinely mad are trying to convince the doctors that they are not, while the "sane competitors" are trying to prove they are crazy enough to be detained.

R J Pickles

What's My Name? is a new family game show for contestants suffering from diagnosed confusional, amnesiac or delusional states: Wernicke's aphasia, Korsakow's syndrome, depressive psychosis, popular journalism, Alzheimer's, etc.

The host poses a set list of questions: What is your name? Why are you here? Who is the Prime Minister (if not you)? Is there a God? Would you like some coffee? After the guest spot, the studio audience pose their own questions.

One point is awarded for any attempted answer, two for a coherent answer, with a five-point bonus for the contestant who gets the loudest laugh from the audience.

The weekly special guest is a well-known personality who has fallen victim to one of the qualifying conditions. Friends or carers will explain how the guest's day is spent, while the guest attempts to eat porridge with a knife.

The big prize consists of care for life in a Sunnyvista Inc Reposal Facility. All contestants receive a consolation prize: a colostomy bag and a couple of aspirin.

Andrew Wilcox

No 3658 Set by Ian Birchall

We've had comps satirising children and the old. So let's now attack the 30-50 age group. Poems in praise of good health, peak of its earning power . . . and hmm! Entries to be in by 7 December.

E-mail: comp@newstatesman.co.uk

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