How Not to Not WIN the Pub Quiz

Yes, a double negative. There are aspects to use of the double negative that, I feel, are almost positive. And this was very much the experience in the pub. This is what happened:

We have a pub. It has a quiz. Every Tuesday night. In the spirit of glasnost, openness and a deep desire to get out of the house I decided that this was THE thing that would revive my sagging social life, lift my flabby spirits and generally possibly and on the very off-chance if I actually left the house I might meet the man of my dreams. Since he didn’t seem to be knocking on my door. Which is strange and slightly inexplicable. Surely the world and his handsome brother/uncle/nephew/cousin/male-relation-of-any sort-whatsoever now knows that I am single. So where are they? This is a question I asked myself. The only answer I could come up with (aside from generally hiding from slightly mad blog-writers in case they are discovered and written about) was maybe they were in the pub.

So, the pub quiz. The first week (we’ll call that week 1 for the sake of clarity) my team consisted of me, my friend who knows a lot about small-boy culture since she has a five-year-old, the Lawyer and the Lawyer’s friend who knows a lot about quite a lot for someone who has lived so very few years (compared to me). We came 2nd. Out of 3 teams. We were very proud.

The next week (week 2) the Lawyer and the Lawyer friend were absent. I suggested we cheat. My friend disagreed. We lost.

The following week (week 3) (don’t worry this story only goes up to week 4) I wander in to discover my team isn’t there. A couple to whom we have previously waved, waves. I wave back and try not to look teamless. I look teamless. They take pity.

This was one of the most cunning things that has ever happened to me. This couple turn out to be the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers of the pub quiz world. The waltzed through the questions with the grace of a well-oiled pair of dancing shoes that had done this sort of thing before. I nodded and pretended to be clever. My friend smiled and answered any questions re 5-year-old culture. We won.

What I have failed to explain here is that every team that wins the quiz is entered for a GRAND PRIZE DRAW every 4 weeks. You see now why we are counting weeks.

Week 4 – The tension is mounting. The man of my dreams still hasn’t turned up. My new and glorified team has. And so has an old friend. Old friend offers me a drink. I am torn – old friend vs quiz team. I pick old friend thinking I would catch up with my team in a moment. The old friend and I get deep into a discussion about celestial bodies of great interest. We go out for a fag and to look at a passing comet. We return. I notice that there seems to be a pub quiz going on. I remember about my team.

They have answered all the questions except one. ‘What was Suzi Quatro’s hit from some-year-or-another?’ Now Suzi and I have a lot in common. We are both American, of small stature, she dresses in tight leather trousers and I would should I own such a garment. We, essentially are like two peas in the proverbial pod. Thus I know everything about her. Or at least I know the answer to this question. We win. By one point. That very point that I gave them by my intimate knowledge of Suzi.

The prize draw draws ME!!!!! Mostly because the landlady knows my name and not Fred and Gingers’.

The man of my dreams still hasn’t shown. So – man, I’ll be there next Tuesday, I’m the one not wearing the tight leather trousers.