Join me in Peabody, Massachusetts, where the country music is playing softly in the hotel ballroom. I sit directly beneath the gargantuan chandelier and stare down at the swirly carpet, trying to avoid eye contact with the other 60 or 70 suckers. Suddenly I hear footsteps approaching, and a voice cries: “Ah, and you must be Reg Varney!” Must I? Oh god, yes, I must.… READ MORE.... …