‘If he had stopped at £250k, they would have got away with it’
A new drama depicts one of TV’s greatest scandals. Chris Bennion talks to those who were there
‘It was an exciting time to be working in TV – there was a simplicity to the world then, pre-streaming.” Andy Harries, whose Left Bank Pictures has produced James Graham’s gripping three-part drama, Quiz, was head of comedy and drama at ITV when Who Wants to
be a Millionaire? was at its 19 millionviewer zenith.
“[Director of programming] David Liddiment had been quite brilliant in seeing Millionaire’s potential, but that show was under attack in 2001 by these middle-class obsessives in Gloucestershire, Wiltshire and Surrey.”
Syndicates of professional quizzers were “gaming” the system to increase their chances of getting on the show. And then, on the weekend of September 9-10 that year, one Wiltshire “obsessive” took it a lot further. Army major Charles Ingram won the £1million top prize with the help of his wife, Diana, and Tecwen Whittock, a fellow contestant, who famously coughed when Ingram read out correct answers, breaking the rules of the game and making Ingram one of the most famous cheats in television history.
When they first arrived at Elstree Studios, in north London, on the morning of September 9, researcher Eve Winstanley thought the Ingrams were a “nice, polite” couple. Ingram bumbled his way affably to question seven, the £4,000 mark, but used up his Ask the Audience and Phone a Friend lifelines on questions on
Coronation Street (“Never seen it!”) and the River Foyle.
“A normal night,” says Susie Charrington, a floor assistant at the time. “The klaxon fired at £4,000 [signalling the end of the episode] and we all went home.”
The next day, Ingram told host Chris Tarrant he was going to change his approach, be more bold, more aggressive. Hopes for Ingram were so low that the production team had rehearsed him walking off after the £8,000 question. “But he just kept getting the questions right,” says floor manager Phil Davies. “When he got up to the £32,000 question, we were pleased for him but really surprised.”
Helen Smith, the production manager, recalls junior researchers gathering in the office, incredulous. “We slowly began to realise that something unusual was happening,” says Winstanley.
“Before the £32,000 question, we usually have a bit of a pause,” says Davies, “and that was when my assistant, Susie, said, ‘Phil, there’s something not quite right here.’”
The £32,000 question, Ingram’s 10th, was: “Who had a No1 album with
Born to Do It?’ Of the options – Craig David, A1, Coldplay and Toploader – Ingram said he thought it was A1, and that he had never heard of David. He used his final lifeline, the 50/50, reducing the answers to A1 and Craig David. Again he said he hadn’t heard of David, and yet, when it came to giving his answer he went for the R&B singer.
“Question 10 will stay with me my whole life,” says Charrington. “After working on the show for years, you get used to people’s processes of elimination – this was something completely different. I went over to Adrian [Woolfe, then head of Celador International], and said, ‘This guy is cheating’”.
Woolfe decided to call Sarah Gregson, the production company’s lawyer, to ask if they could legally search the Ingrams. Meanwhile, Ingram, dithering, cartoonish, charming, kept going.
“He showed no knowledge of the questions or the answers,” says Smith, “but he kept getting them right.” Davies likens it to someone playing pin the tail on the donkey and getting it in the right place every time. Members of the crew questioned why they were still recording.
Ingram had reached the £1million question and Tarrant reminded him of the rules: after seeing the question he was free to call a halt to proceedings and walk away with £500,000. But, if he went ahead and got the answer wrong, he would forfeit the £500,000 and go home with just £32,000 (the prize money “banked” when a contestant answers question 10).
The question was: “A number 1 followed by 100 zeros is known by what name?” The correct answer was googol. Ingram said he had no idea what a googol was.
“Unless the one million question is the equivalent of ‘What is your name?’,” says Celador founder Paul Smith, “you are not going to risk £468,000.” Ingram risked it.
While the audience cheered and Tarrant slapped Ingram’s back in amazement, Woolfe recalls, the atmosphere among the production crew was “flat”. Helen Smith saw crew slow-clapping the Ingrams; Davies said the atmosphere was like “a wake – even the Ingrams didn’t look happy”. At the side of the stage, Woolfe was waiting to search them.
“We looked in their hair, in their ears, checked their clothing,” says Helen Smith, “asked them to remove their shoes, but we were unable to find anything.” Woolfe was “flummoxed”. Winstanley took the Ingrams, who were “deadly silent”, to their dressing room. When she offered champagne, Ingram “got aggressive”.
When she told them a member of the press team would be down to speak to them, Ingram said: “I don’t want to see anyone.” Moments later, Winstanley heard shouting coming from the Ingrams’ dressing room.
Paul Smith arrived at Elstree around 9.30pm, sceptical. “I thought [the others] had made a mistake, created a drama where there wasn’t one.” But, after watching the tapes, he called Claudia Rosencrantz, ITV’s head of entertainment, to inform her that “something wasn’t right”.
At 7am the next day, Woolfe, along with Celador’s head of PR, Ruth Settle, went to the Langham Hotel to have breakfast with the Ingrams on the pretence of prepping them for the days ahead. Across town, Rosencrantz, worried, had Ingram’s winning cheque held. She also called Scotland Yard and, after two officers viewed the tapes and agreed Ingram had a case to answer, it was left to Paul Smith to call the contestant.
“He was extremely calm,” says Smith. “I simply said, ‘We have reason to believe there has been an irregularity’. That’s all I said. And his response was, ‘Well, I refute that’. What he didn’t say was, ‘What the hell are you talking about? I don’t understand. What’s happened?’”
“If he had stopped at £250,000,” says Settle, “I think they would have got away with it.” Almost everyone I speak to agrees on this and on the subject of the Ingrams’ guilt, though Settle believes their guilt or innocence isn’t the interesting question.
“Cheated? Yes they did. But did they deserve everything that came after? It was a big old price to pay for something they thought wasn’t a crime.”
‘Ingram showed no knowledge of the questions, but he kept getting them right’
‘We looked in their hair, in their ears. But we couldn’t find anything’
As well as receiving suspended prison sentences and being ordered to pay fines and costs totalling £115,000, the Ingrams were the subject of abuse – their pet dog and rabbit were killed and their daughters were bullied at school. Ingram also had to stand down from his Army post.
Harries is less convinced, pointing out that the tape used to convict the trio had the incriminating coughs amplified (the actual episode was never broadcast), while the dozens of other coughs that evening were left at their original volume.
“The evidence wasn’t there in court. It didn’t stack up,” he says. “I’m amazed the jury found them guilty. But Millionaire was a RollsRoyce. And that’s what upset Paul [Smith] so much. However well you’ve designed this beautiful Rolls-Royce, someone has got under the bonnet and managed to fiddle around with it.”
“He could have got away with it,” says Charrington. “You should have stopped earlier, you plum.”
Quiz starts tomorrow at 9pm on ITV