As much as Grandma loves her bingo, she might not love Big Wheel Bingo.

She might miss certain bingo constants: a comfy hall, (relatively) big money and groups of like-minded ladies and gentlemen dedicated to the game.

This is what Big Wheel gamers experience: lounging in a subterranean cabaret-style speak-easy and listening to samples highlighting President Bush's more memorable quotes while a larger-than-life seersucker-suit clad game-show host, Bing Wheeler, doles out prizes like bowling bags (balls included), librarian action figures and clown mirrors.

		Mike Urban / P-I
	"Girly Man Extraordinaire ULTRA!" performs during Big Wheel Bingo at the Can Can Kitchen and Cabaret. Truly, this is not your father's (or grandmother's) bingo.

"We're about making people feel wheel," Bing booms. Contenders sit at their tables, tense, clutching Dabbin Fever -- "the winner's ink" -- in their sweaty palms. (Could be the sweat is from fondling a couple of cold drinks, but hey, it's the same effect.)

As the Big Wheel spins round and round, Bing sips his martini and unloads his own brand of numeric poetry.

"G50. It's the five-oh! Everybody duck!"

"O70 -- Heavenly!"

On stopping at 11, he said, "Nice looking legs" to no one in particular.

"B1 -- with the universe."

"N39, about damn time."

So then again, maybe Grandma might get a kick out of Big Wheel. But for now, 20- and 30-somethings seem to be the crowd that gravitates most to the night. Basically, if you like the game nights over at Re-bar, you'll probably like Big Wheel. (In fact, Big Wheel had a brief stint at Re-bar, and also at the Rendezvous where it began, and at the Sunset Tavern for a little while.) It is approaching its 100th show after beginning in late 2003. It's been mostly underground -- and still is, at least literally -- until now.

Pay the $10 cover and you're in. Bing's "wife," Penelope Wheeler, distributes about six bingo cards to each person. Each sheet has three grids and each player can use any of those three grids each game. Every Thursday night at the Can Can Kitchen and Cabaret, a guest "celebrity" spinner helps contenders get through about six games, spinning the wheel with a flourish reserved only for the most outlandish anti-Vanna Whites. Typically, it will kill two hours.

There is actually a Big Wheel, by the way. It's not just a catchy name. This grand prop fills most of the small stage that glitters in a handmade kind of way. Each notch is a number from 1 to 75. And the usual rules of bingo apply: dab five numbers in a row vertically, horizontally and diagonally to spell BINGO. You can also win with one number in each corner. Then, release a triumphant yell. You know what to shout.

Like any bingo game, some winners come fast and others agonize until the winning combination saves them.

The first winner on one night didn't take much time at all.

Tak Higuchi, 29, a student at North Seattle Community College, scored on four corners. A repeat Big Wheel gamer proved the third time's a charm.

He won a smoking elephant cigarette dispenser -- everyone needs one of those, right? -- and a Value Village stuffed tiger.

On the next game, two women from the same table win Bingo on N32. The spin-off to win was simple: whoever got closer to B1 would claim the big prize. Allison Rogers, 29, of Belltown got knocked out with O70 but as a consolation, Bing gave her a lovely recipe book: "Creative Cooking with Cottage Cheese."

Her friend, Karley Cha, 29, of Eastlake, took her first win in stride, juggling booty anyone would envy: a pig wrapped in plastic (a candle!) and a cookie jar curiously shaped like a head of lettuce. Unfortunately, she dropped the top of the cookie jar and it crumbled into two pieces.

Fellow contestants urged: "Smash it all!"

But Bing made a solemn request: "A moment of silence." Then, "It's fake lettuce that really breaks! Congratulations!"

OK, maybe you had to be there. But if you're feeling it, the kitschy shtick works well with the surroundings. Besides, they have food.

While pianist and master Dubya sampler Rusty Urie is a consistent sidekick to Bing, if the guest spinners are good, bonus points. They're made up of artists, musicians and other characters known to the Wheelers (Penelope is actually Erin Spencer, while Kaleb Hagan-Kerr plays Bing) through their mingling in the scene. Past celebrity guests have included Ultra (a "fashionista burlesque" lip-syncher), belly dancer Fuschia Foxx, Mr. and Mrs. Leather 2006, members of the Rat City Rollergirls' Grave Danger team and various thespians who have channeled Swedish housewives, elderly Irish ladies and Darth Vader. Some have better rapport with Bing than others, but all are allowed to promote themselves and give the audience a little taste of what they're about during intermission.

One of the former guest spinners, regular "Bedroom Club" host Anita Goodman, won a game one night, but he was in his daily Clark Kent persona, the real-life Tim Thomas.

How did Thomas win? Glad you asked. He told Bing: "Grit, determination and Lance Armstrong's autobiography."

Bing introduced Thomas' prize: "Tim, have you ever thought about having a pond in your backyard? Does the idea of fish excite and terrify you?"

Thomas won a pop-up pond (instead of subjecting himself to "backbreaking and laborious digging") and a fish figurine.

In between games, and sometimes punctuating the middle of them, Urie's Dubya quotes receive the expected laughs:

"I hear it on the Internets" or "Too many ob-gyn's aren't able to practice their love with women."

"I swear, he should have gone into comedy," Bing said.

Glad you did, Bing.

IF YOU GO ...

BIG WHEEL BINGO

WHERE: Can Can Kitchen and Cabaret, 94 Pike St. (under Left Bank Books)

WHEN: Thursdays, 9:30 p.m.

ADMISSION: $10, free and unlimited playing cards; table reservations, 206-652/0832, reservations@thecancan.com; food and drinks available

INFORMATION: bigwheelbingo.com, myspace.com/bigwheelbingo, thecancan.com