The Nominees:
The vibrant atmosphere of *Noel's House Party* buzzes as Noel Edmonds, beaming with his trademark grin, steps forward to the applause of the lively studio audience. "Ladies and gentlemen," he says, drawing out the suspense, "it's that time of the show where two brave souls plead their case to avoid a rather slimy fate. Tonight, we have a special treat! Two of the finest representatives from different walks of life, but only one can escape the gunge!" The crowd cheers louder as the camera follows Noel, who dramatically leads them to the voting chair where the two contenders sit nervously.

Rodrigo Santos, a 39-year-old Filipino nurse in scrubs, sits on the left, smiling, though the anxiety is palpable in his eyes. His light blue scrubs contrast against the bright studio lights, making him stand out as the beloved NHS representative. Next to him, Heather White, a 29-year-old footballer in a full football uniform, crosses her arms, clearly trying to project confidence. Her cleats tap lightly on the floor, and her determined eyes scan the audience, though she fidgets slightly in her seat.

Noel steps between them with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "So, folks," he addresses the audience with flair, "who would you rather see gunged tonight? Rodrigo, representing the nurses, or Heather, our athletic champion? Both of them serve our great country in different ways, but tonight only one of them can escape with their dignity intact."

The audience roars, clearly divided as Noel chuckles. He turns first to Rodrigo, whose nervous laugh echoes through the microphone. "Rod, Rod, Rod You've helped save lives, you've been on the frontlines of the NHS, but now the nation has to decide if you're going to get absolutely drenched in slime. Tell us why you think *Heather* should take the plunge instead?"

Rodrigo adjusts his scrubs and leans forward, his face earnest. "Well, Noel," he starts, the audience quieting down to listen. "You know, I've dedicated my life to caring for people. Long hours, short breaks, sometimes not even a cup of tea for ten hours! I mean, I don't want to say I deserve a break from getting gunged, but... I kinda think I do, don't you?" He glances at the crowd, eliciting a sympathetic murmur from some.

Noel grins and eggs him on, "But Rod, surely the thrill of a good gunging would be the ultimate way to relax after all that hard work, eh?" The crowd laughs, and Rod chuckles, shaking his head.

"I'm not so sure about that, Noel. I mean, what if it gets in my scrubs? I've already spent half my life in gloves and aprons, I don't need slime added to the mix!"

Noel claps Rodrigo on the back, enjoying the banter, and then shifts his attention to Heather. "And Heather! You're a footballer! A professional athlete! Surely you've taken harder hits on the pitch than a bit of gunge, right? Why should the nation spare you and drop poor Rod here instead?"

Heather smirks, leaning into her mic, eyes glinting with a competitive edge. "Well, Noel," she starts confidently, "I may be used to a bit of rough and tumble, but I've got a career to think about! Can you imagine me showing up to training tomorrow covered in green goo? No way the team would ever let me live it down!" She winks at the crowd, getting some laughs.

Noel raises an eyebrow, playfully intrigued. "Oh come on, surely your teammates would understand? Maybe even cheer you on a bit!"

Heather chuckles, shaking her head. "Nah, Noel, they'd never stop teasing me. And anyway," she says, glancing over at Rod, "with the state the NHS is in, Rod here might *need* some time off, don't you think? I'm doing him a favour if he gets gunged tonight!" Her cheeky jab sends the audience into a fit of laughter, and even Noel has to cover his mouth to stifle a chuckle.

Rod looks mock-offended, shaking his head in disbelief. "Really, Heather? Taking a shot at the NHS? You athletes think you've got it hard with your personal trainers and physios. Meanwhile, I'm running around an entire ward by myself!"

Heather rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "I've got to keep these muscles in tip-top shape, Rod," she says, flexing her arm in a mock display of strength. "You could probably use the exercise anyway!"

The crowd laughs, and Noel, sensing the perfect moment, jumps in. "Oh-ho! A little trash talk from our footballer! Well, the gloves are off now, folks! You've heard their cases, but who deserves to be gunged? Is it hardworking NHS hero Rodrigo?" The audience claps loudly. "Or should it be our footballing sensation Heather?" Another round of cheers and claps, though this time with a few scattered boos in support of Rod.

As Noel looks between the two nominees, he smirks. "This is going to be a close one!" he says, as both Rod and Heather exchange nervous glances, knowing full well that the decision is now out of their hands.

Rodrigo sighs and gives one last plea. "Listen, guys," he says, addressing the audience directly, "if you've ever had a kind nurse help you through a tough time, maybe spare me the slime, yeah?"

Heather, not missing a beat, grins and points to herself. "And if you want to see me absolutely owning the pitch tomorrow without being a walking slime monster, vote for Rod!"

Noel bursts out laughing. "Well, there you have it, folks! Who will be our gunging victim tonight? It's up to you! The vote is in your hands!"

- - -

The Update:

The camera cuts back to the stage after a commercial break, where Noel Edmunds stands between Rodrigo and Heather once more. The audience buzzes with anticipation, and Noel flashes a mischievous grin, knowing the tension is building. "Welcome back, everyone!" he announces. "It's time for a little update on how our public vote is going. Remember, either Rod, our NHS hero, or Heather, the footballing sensation, is about to take a very slimy plunge into the gunge tank!"

The crowd cheers, and Noel playfully gestures to the big screen behind them, where the voting percentages are about to be revealed. "Now, as you know, it's all up to the viewers at home. And they've been voting in their thousands," he says, his tone teasing. "Who will it be? Let's check those numbers!"

The screen flashes to life, and to Heather's visible dismay, the bar graph shows her in the lead with a solid 63% of the vote, while Rodrigo trails with 37%. Heather's eyes widen, her jaw dropping in shock as the crowd erupts into laughter.

"No! No way!" Heather exclaims, shaking her head in disbelief. "I thought they'd be on *my* side!" She looks to the audience with a playful pout, as if they've betrayed her. "Come on, guys, Rod's the one who *actually* deserves this, right?" She throws her hands up in mock protest, clearly not enjoying her lead in this situation.

Noel, loving the drama, turns to her with a sympathetic smile. "Oh, Heather! It looks like the public has other ideas! A full 63% of the vote is in your favour, and not the kind of favour you were hoping for." He chuckles as Heather groans, covering her face for a moment, then giving Rod a sideways glance.

Rodrigo, meanwhile, is visibly relieved, though trying his best not to gloat. "I mean I don't want to say I'm happy about this, but... I'm *definitely* not upset." He grins sheepishly, hands up in a 'what can I do?' gesture as the audience laughs along with him.

Noel can't resist stirring the pot a little more. "Rod, it seems like your charm might be working! You're sitting pretty at 37%, but don't get too comfortable. There's still time for the tide to turn."

Rod laughs nervously. "I'll take it! Anything to avoid that gunge tank. Besides," he says, leaning toward Heather, "I think the public just really wants to see an athlete take a dive for once. You're always in control on the field, but here? Not so much, huh?"

Heather scoffs, trying to stay composed. "Oh, so that's how it's going to be, huh?" she quips. "Just wait. The public will realize I'm too valuable to get gunged. They'll turn it around!"

Noel jumps in, loving the friendly banter. "Well, Heather, they've got about 10 minutes left to change their minds. Maybe you can charm your way out of this, or maybe Rod here has just pulled off the upset of the century!" He winks at the audience, clearly enjoying Heather's mounting frustration.

With a flourish, Noel turns back to the camera. "But folks, if you want to see either of these fine people take a dip in the gunge, you know what to do. Keep those votes coming! We'll find out the final result very, very soon!"

Heather shakes her head, muttering under her breath, "This cannot be happening," while Rod tries--and fails--to hide his amusement. The tension between them only makes the audience cheer louder, as Noel teases the upcoming result one last time before cutting away.

- - -

The Results:

The camera cuts back to Noel Edmunds, standing once again between Rodrigo and Heather, the audience buzzing with excitement. Noel has that trademark mischievous grin on his face, clearly enjoying the suspense. "Well, folks, the moment has finally arrived!" he announces, drawing out the tension as the crowd cheers. "We've tallied the votes, and it's time to reveal who's going to be taking a very slimy trip into the gunge tank!"

Rodrigo looks nervous, biting his lip, while Heather is doing her best to remain composed, though there's a gleam of hope in her eyes. Noel dramatically gestures toward the big screen behind them as the final percentages flash up.

"And here we go!" Noel says, as the numbers appear: **Rodrigo 52%**, **Heather 48%**. The crowd erupts in cheers as Rodrigo's face falls, his hands immediately going up to his head in disbelief.

"No! No, no, no!" Rod exclaims, shaking his head as he turns to Noel, almost pleading. "You've got to be kidding me! I thought Heather had it in the bag!"

Heather, on the other hand, can't contain her glee. "YES!" she shouts, jumping up and pumping her fists in the air. "I'm safe! I'm not getting gunged!" She does a little victory dance, clearly enjoying the moment as the audience laughs and applauds.

Noel, loving every second of the drama, puts his hand on Rod's shoulder, trying to look sympathetic but failing miserably. "I'm afraid the people have spoken, Rod! A last-minute surge in the vote, and it's *you* who will be taking the plunge into the gunge tank tonight!"

Rod looks out at the audience, shaking his head in disbelief. "Come on, guys! After everything I said? You want to gunge a *nurse*? Really?" He throws up his arms, clearly dismayed, while Heather playfully fans herself as if she's relieved to have avoided the slimy fate.

Noel can't help but laugh. "Rod, I'm sorry, but it seems the nation has decided. It's time to face the slime!"

Heather, still grinning ear to ear, adds, "I mean, it's only fair. You've been on the frontlines, so you're *used* to messy situations, right? This should be a walk in the park for you!"

Rod groans, putting his head in his hands. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

Noel claps his hands together, beaming at the camera. "Well, folks, there you have it! Rodrigo Santos, our brave NHS nurse, will be getting absolutely drenched in gunge! Stay tuned, because the slime is coming up next!" The audience roars with excitement as Rod tries to laugh off his misfortune, but it's clear he's dreading what's about to happen. Meanwhile, Heather's triumphant smirk says it all--she's thrilled to have dodged the slimy bullet.

- - -

The Gunging:

The studio lights gleamed as the moment everyone had been waiting for finally arrived. The audience was buzzing, clapping and laughing as Noel Edmunds, always the showman, stepped forward with Rodrigo by his side. Rod looked nervously down at his sneakers, already dreading what was about to happen. Noel noticed his hesitation and gave him a sly smile.

"Well, Rod," Noel began, "it's time. But before we get you gunged, I think we'll make you a little more comfortable." He pointed at Rod's shoes with a raised eyebrow. "Those sneakers are looking a bit too clean for what's about to happen. How about we lose them?"

The audience burst into laughter, and Rod sighed dramatically but bent down to take off his shoes. "Oh, come on, Noel, you're not making this any easier," he muttered, slipping off his sneakers and stepping onto the studio floor barefoot. His toes curled a little as the cold surface touched his feet, and he could already sense the slime awaiting him.

Noel grinned mischievously. "Ah, that's better! Barefoot and ready for action. Just think of it like a trip to the hospital--bare feet, no dignity, and a long wait for the mess to be cleaned up!" The crowd roared with laughter at the joke.

Rod groaned and shook his head. "You really had to go there, didn't you?"

With a theatrical flourish, Noel led the way toward the infamous gunge tank, which today resembled a human car wash, complete with spinning bristles, foam, and all sorts of mechanisms designed to humiliate. As they reached the entrance, the tank loomed ominously, and Rod's eyes widened.

"This thing looks more complicated than a CAT scan machine!" Rod joked, though his voice wavered with nerves.

Noel chuckled. "Oh, you'll wish it was just a scan, Rod. This is much more fun. Now, let's get you strapped in." He motioned to the crew, who helped guide Rod into the chair positioned on a conveyor belt, strapping him in securely with his legs dangling and arms fastened to the sides.

Rod's face was a mixture of dread and resignation as he glanced at Noel. "Be gentle with me, Noel," he pleaded, the audience laughing at his desperate tone.

Noel, ever the prankster, gave him a faux-pitying look. "Oh, Rod, I wish I could help you, but we've got strict instructions. In fact, for all the times you've had to wait in the emergency room, I've got only one thing to say"

Noel turned dramatically to the crowd, his voice booming. "*GUNGE HIM!*" The audience erupted into cheers, their applause echoing through the studio as Rod gave an exaggerated groan, knowing there was no way out.

As the excitement built, Heather, who was beaming with delight, stepped forward. She was practically vibrating with anticipation. "This is going to be *so* good," she said, barely able to contain her laughter. "Rod, I'm going to make sure you get the deluxe treatment!"

Noel winked at her. "Heather, you've got the honors. Spin that wheel and send Rod on the ride of his life!"

Heather approached the large wheel on the side of the gunge tank, grinning ear to ear. "Don't worry, Rod. I'm sure this will be refreshing after all those long shifts at the hospital!" She grabbed the wheel and gave it a firm spin. The crowd cheered as the wheel whirred to life, setting the tank's mechanisms into motion.

The conveyor belt began to move, and the chair carrying Rod slowly advanced toward the spinning bristles of the human car wash. As he got closer, Rod's eyes widened. "No, no, no! This is worse than I thought!" he shouted, his voice drowned out by the cheers of the audience. He tried to wiggle in the chair, but the straps held him tight.

Noel, watching from the sidelines, couldn't resist a jab. "It's a bit like British healthcare, Rod--slow moving, but when it hits, it's a mess!"

The audience roared with laughter as the first set of bristles began to spin, catching Rod's sides and legs. Foamy water sprayed from the sides, drenching him from head to toe. He gasped as the cold water hit his bare skin, soaking his scrubs and making them cling to his body. The bristles whirred faster, lathering him up with suds, his face contorted in both surprise and discomfort.

"This is *not* what I signed up for!" Rod yelled, spitting out some of the foam that had splashed into his mouth.

Heather, watching the spectacle with gleeful delight, clapped her hands. "Oh, Rod, you look *so* clean now! Don't you just love a good wash?"

Rod shot her a mock glare through the suds. "I'll remember this next time you need a nurse!"

Noel chuckled. "Careful, Rod, or we'll have to send you through for a second round!" The crowd cheered as the chair moved forward, taking Rod toward the next section of the car wash.

The spinning bristles gave way to a new horror--jets of foam that sprayed Rod from all sides, leaving him completely drenched. The foam stuck to his hair, face, and every inch of his scrubs. He looked utterly defeated, his hair plastered to his forehead, suds dripping down his face.

Noel grinned. "Looks like Rod's finally getting the 'full service'--a bit like waiting for hours only to be told you've got the wrong paperwork!"

The audience howled with laughter as Rod grimaced. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you, Noel?"

Noel laughed. "More than you can imagine!"

Finally, the chair reached the end of the conveyor belt, and the grand finale was ready. Above Rod, massive tanks filled with brightly colored gunge were positioned, ready to be unleashed. The crowd grew even louder, chanting, "GUNGE! GUNGE! GUNGE!"

Noel stepped forward, microphone in hand. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, for the moment you've all been waiting for! Rod, for your tireless service in the NHS--and for losing to Heather--you're about to get what's coming to you. Any last words?"

Rod sighed dramatically, looking up at the tanks above. "Yeah, I'd like a transfer to a *dry* department!"

Noel couldn't stop laughing. "Well, it's too late for that!"

Heather, absolutely overjoyed, clapped her hands together and shouted, "Let's do this!"

With a final spin of the wheel from Heather, the tanks above Rod opened, and in an instant, thick streams of colorful gunge poured down on him. Bright green, neon pink, and electric blue slime cascaded over Rod's head, covering him completely. The audience went wild as the gunge coated every inch of him, dripping down his face, soaking through his scrubs, and pooling around his feet.

Rod let out an exaggerated groan, completely engulfed by the goo. "This is so much worse than a night shift!" he shouted through the gunge, but even he couldn't help but laugh as the slime continued to pour.

Heather was laughing so hard she had to hold her stomach. "Oh, Rod, you look *amazing!* I think this might be your best look yet!"

Noel joined in the fun, his voice barely audible over the roaring applause. "Rod, I think you've just been promoted to *slime specialist!*"

The gunge finally slowed to a stop, leaving Rod completely unrecognizable, dripping in multicolored sludge. He shook his head, sending globs of slime flying in all directions, and sighed. "Well, at least now I know what the *real* emergency is!"

The audience erupted into a standing ovation as Noel stepped forward, giving Rod a playful pat on the back. "Rod, you've been an incredible sport. Thank you for taking one for the team. And Heather," he turned to the footballer, "you've done your duty by sending him through the wash!"

Heather gave a mock bow, clearly over the moon. "All in a day's work!"

As the crowd continued to cheer, Noel wrapped things up. "Ladies and gentlemen, give it up one more time for our NHS hero, Rodrigo! And don't forget to tune in next week for more laughs, more mess, and more gunging!" The camera faded to the sound of roaring applause as Rod sat in the chair, still dripping, shaking his head with a resigned smile.

- - -