Morrish and the monkey canes

I remember when karaoke was all the rage whereas now it’s THE QUIZ. A prerequisite for participating in the former was being so drunk that all efforts could be forgiven. An absolute necessity of success in the pub quiz is being stone cold sober. There are some further interesting sociological comparisons between the two activities: in the days when karaoke was king, one would probably have been what was then referred to as a ‘regular’ at the pub; karaoke being simply an excuse to become more sloshed than usual. How the alcoholic ingestion of the great British public has evolved over the years as cirrhosis becomes the ‘must have’ accessory of the new 24/7 millennium. The young lie prostrate on weekend city streets whilst the middle-aged are downing yet more and more wine and vodka in the comfort of their homes. So the quiz is an excuse to get out into the social atmosphere of a pub - where there are no regulars - for reasons completely alien to the raison d’etre of such establishments.

Here we all are in the Red Lion for their inaugural quiz evening. Further observations: each team consists of members of a mixed age, this being necessary for those wishing to answer questions in all categories. The drinks on the table comprise a mixture of cokes, lemon and limes and other non-alcoholic beverages essential to being ‘on the case’. A great deal of time is given over to choosing the team name, ensuring that the pen works, nominating someone with clear hand-writing skills to fill in the answers and ensuring that no other team are using an I Phone. This is serious business. Last week at St Peter’s Finger, it was all down to the person who knew the recorded weight of the largest pumpkin ever nominated for the Guinness Book of Records. We were out by over 100 kilos!

The picture round is a disaster. Marty Wilde was apparently Tony Bennett. Our Shirley Bassey turns out to be Gina Lollabrigida (spelling mistakes are not counted). Zsa Zsa Gabor was Barbara Windsor…I told you that! Strangely, from the depths of somewhere, we were successful with Arthur Mullard. Who? We catch up on current affairs and collapse momentarily on sport; but only because the quiz-master gave us an incorrect date and because the only two racehorses we’ve ever heard of are Red Rum and Shergar. Neither of these apparently won last year’s Derby. There’s a short interlude for the smokers to leave the building and an announcement that Rudy is at the bar doing tarot readings for only ten quid a pop in the next room. Can he tell us if we’re going to win?

Despite the fact that we don’t know the weight of the world’s largest sheep…247 kilos… which, bizarrely, we wrote down but subsequently altered, Morrish and the monkey canes win by a mile. Thirteen quid is ours for the taking, the most difficult task of the night being how to divide this between five. It seems a lot of work for such a pittance but it’s the glory that counts.