December 20, 2012 by benmblackman
You’d have thought a Teacher, Marketing Consultant, Farmer and Chief Executive would be an excellent mix for a quiz team wouldn’t you? If you did then, like the majority of questions that came our way last night, you would be incorrect.
We met up at 7.45pm, and headed to the venue. Less University Challenge, more Croston Sports Club. Our preparation was intense, 2 pints of lager, a large glass of wine and a pint of cider. The wine drinking member of our team had the cheek to enquire if the cider was for, ‘the real lady?’ ie. my wife. Hang on a minute, I thought, I do the put downs round here via my blog. Things were not boding well for team spirit with this unfounded character assassination. I asked the aggressor what wine she would like? ‘DRY’ came the answer, delivered with simplicity and intensity only a lady with 2 small children (currently being babysat) free for an evening of alcohol, could manage.
‘Any particular type?’ I pondered.
‘Whatever. That one,’ she pointed. You can imagine the caliber of ‘lady’ we had on our team.
The first task was to establish our team name. Easy really. The Smith’s and the Blackman’s – how could we not be called The Blacksmith’s? Because we spelt it wrong, that’s how. The Blacksmitts were crowned. Of course some of the comedians in the club were called the Norfolk & Chancers – they should have been docked points there and then in my mind.
The Dairy Farmer instigated a quick team talk. ‘I can’t do general knowledge,’ he said, ‘or sport.’ The Marketing Consultant took a breathe and outted herself as having a severe case of Quiz Tourettes. ‘I can’t help it,’ she said, ‘I just shout the answers out randomly.’ At least, as we were to find out, they were almost exclusively incorrect so no use to our rivals. The School Teacher informed us that she wasn’t much good at quizzes but, not to worry, she did know the whole dance to the Blockbuster’s theme tune. It seemed I was the brains of the outfit. This was worrying to say the least, I am no quiz genius.
Our babysitters parents were at close quarters, a threat without a doubt. Him, a Financial Director, her, a Chartered Accountant, added to the brother (another Financial Director) and wife, former Post Office Master. They breed them well in Croston.
We were given strict instructions to send the babysitter back in the car for them when we got home later. ‘We’re on the wine,’ the ladies grinned and shouted. If you can’t beat them…!
When you have a Dairy Farmer in your crew, you hope you might answer a question about species of deer correctly. No, we pumped for frog. Close but no cigar.
When you have a (PE) Teacher in your clan, you hope the answer to the question, ‘where on your body would you find the fibula?’ would be a given. No. To be fair it was a tough one because the quizmaster insisted, ‘and we need you to be specific.’ She added ‘somewhere’ to complete the answer, ‘on the arm…somewhere.’
The Marketing Consultant sought to help us answer a question regarding the source of river Nile by drawing it. We knew what it looked like, how was that to help us? I guess she was thinking outside of the box.
It was down to me. Luckily I showed my intellect ensuring we answered 2 questions regarding the SAS correctly (studying the classics in my spare time – Andy McNab, Bravo Two Zero – taught me well). I followed up with a particularly satisfying identification of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air in the music round. I also managed to identify Peter Crouch from a photo showing only the bottom part of his face, covered in a ‘Mo.’ I could tell they were impressed. The university debt was paying off big style.
Before the results the HotPot was uncovered (of course). Every county in the north has a take on the delicacy: HotPot in Lancashire; Scouse in Liverpool. A southerner oop north for 15 years now I still don’t understand the obsession, they love the stuff. Excitement at bread and butter being included was palpable, our wine drinking connoisseur tucked in.
The results were in and it didn’t look good. The Blacksmitts came a lowly 10th (out of 15) some 20 points behind our babysitters family (5th) and 30 points off the winners (know-it-alls). Even the yoof team I had sponsored to ensure the numbers were high beat us (although when I quizzed them on their knowledge of late 60’s band MUD, they did admit to using Shazam throughout the Name that Tune round (as well as the world wide web for most other rounds). They had begun on Facebook apparently but quickly realised all of their friends were thicker than them so they went straight to the source, Wikipedia.
The prizes were handed out: 4 pints to 3rd place; 6 pints to second (4 tennis playing ladies aged 50+, not massive lager pint drinkers I presume) and a mamouth 8 pints for the champions.
We ventured home, our usual argument about who would pay the babysitter passed the time (I try to avoid cash transactions with young ladies ok).
The real winner was, of course, Croston Sports Club, the greatest in the land. If you live local, come and support us. It’s YOUR community Sports Club and if we don’t all use it we will lose it (yes – just like we lost the quiz).
There’s always next time…or the time after that…or maybe the one after that…