...and they're off

How do they select Samaritans? Here's your guide.

First, find a fierce woman who looks like your mum but has been cleverly compressed. And morphed. She's your leader for the day.

Second, plonk her in front of about 20 quivering initiates in a small room in a drab British town at the weekend.

Third, surround her with a selection of sweet elderly ladies who have clearly been in the organisation for years. (I checked them out slyly for signs of emotional damage from suicidal-phonecall-overload.... distressingly, they continued to look like sweet old ladies for the rest of the day. But at night, I imagine they howl and bite one another).

And four, let the fierce woman welcome the quiverers rather loudly... and may the action begin...

The quiverers

An interesting bunch. Youngest was a lovely 20ish girl with the sort of doe-eyed face that whispers "I rilly rilly care about things" - and that's before she's opened her mouth. Oldest... er.... possibly me, and believe me I'm well preserved and naturally gorgeous (if you prefer the 45-yr-old-Neanderthal look). One guy was clearly a young manager on the way up the corporate ladder; two other men were strikingly intelligent people doing crap warehouse jobs. (Why?) And two single childless women in late 30s Also a wild man who turned up late, unshaven, sweaty, with a crazed gleam in his eye.

Sense and Sensibility

How do you start to make strangers into a cohesive group? Easy. You're put into pairs... have two minutes to interview your partner... they do the same to you... then you have a minute to tell the group about that person.

I was paired with doe-eyes. As soon as she began answering my questions, I realised that she had descended from heaven; an angel here to help mankind.

Me: So what do you do?
Doe: I work for a charity.
Me: Well that's good... you're already giving something back to society, and here you are on your day off wanting to give a bit more.
Doe: (laughs prettily in a Jane Austin heroine way) I just like to help people.

Kind of restores your faith in humanity, doesn't it. Or makes you feel faintly sick.

The death lottery

Next up, a series of group exercises. For example, you're in charge of rescuing a team of eight trapped cavers. The water's rising fast and you can only get one person out every hour. Based on short biographies of the cavers, who do you save - and in what order? Who's first - the one with the most kids? The youngest? The one who's almost developed a cure for cancer? The priest?

My gut feeling was the person with the most kids should be dragged out first- until one of the women on the team pointed out that I was effectively condemning childless women to death. "You put more value on a person's life just because she's popped out a few babies? If she's infertile, does that make her less of a person? She has the same right to life as anyone else!" She was right. What about the cancer-curer? "He'll have made notes and his colleagues can work from those." Okay...

The upshot was that we couldn't - no, didn't - decide on who to save. So we effectively drew lots. The 69 year old had the same chance as the 19 year old. Whether this was the best approach, I leave to the moral philosophers. It's clear, though, that would-be Samaritans don't relish the chance to play God.