Quiz Night

I was dissapointed with the pub. The room was too new. The bedding was crisp and clean. The window opened and closed without the clasp falling apart in my hands. There was a saniflo but it worked and didn't need to be trained not to flush every two minutes. There was no mould on the walls to study. The iron worked and there was no plastic melted to it. All in all pretty dissapointing for 50 quid.  There were even two whole mini-packs of biscuits and - reader - they were in date. There was nothing to complain about and, to be sure, I'm keeping the name of this place to myself.  The beer was good. The steak and ale pie was good. Good times in the Heart of England and Tuesday night, it transpired, was Quiz Night.

That meant that the bar was packed. I ate my dinner off a window sill on a tall stool and even that drew stern stares from people who thought that a lone man taking up a whole windowsill was a bloody liberty. I noticed that a lot of business was being done. People came in for a quick pint which lasted an hour and gave quotes for patios and tractor repairs. The same people discussed local council business and the Easter market, complained about the amateurs selling eggs from bird-tables on the high street and undercutting the shop with their mucky pet hen's doin's. I made a mental note to save change to buy some on the way home. They complained about the new take-away. They clustered and settled how the vote would go for an outsider's planning application. They started to fade away.

Groups began to coalesc out of the throng. Tables of five and six. One family with seven members got into an argument, with Mum refusing to pay extra for the two teenage girls swallowed in their phones.

"Not paying for them, they aren't bothered with quizzes." 

"Well make sure as they keep them phones to their selves."

"What's the jackpot lark, Geoff?"

The landlord smiled. 

"No one's winning that tonight," he said.

 There was a noise. It sounded like the noise special effects guys use when a bad guy gets double-tapped in a movie, if you have the speakers inside your head.

Thwack Thwack.

"Alright. Ooops."

I stopped a vase from rattling on the windowsill next to me. People raised their heads from where they'd tried to hide them inside their shoulders.

"Welcome to the Redacted Arms Quiz Night. Hilary is coming around with the pot, sheets and pens and here's a reminder of the rules as we've got strangers in. Are you playing sunshine? The Question Old-Timers always need a ringer."

Silence. I looked up. Everyone was looking at me.

"Oh, no but thanks for asking. Carry on."

"Oh right well we will carry on then, seeing as how you're alright with it, like."

There was a scurry of laughter.

"Only joking, sunshine. Right. No phones. No rude team names. No cheating on the scoring. Don't wait for breaks to get your beers in. Are we ready?"

"Need a minute."

"Rutland Raiders, need a minute. Shall we give them as has won six times this year already a minute?"

"No!"

"Question One."

 *

It was a serious business. There was a break for more drinks. There was a break for an appeal against one of the questions. Someone left and came back again and Hilary photographed the team's answer sheet, 'just so you aren't tempted to cheat'. Every question in one section brought a groan from one table or another. For example: who was the all-time top scorer for the Redacted Town football team, what local government agency changed its sugar beet regulations in 2018; what was the highest chart position for Peter, Paul and Mary's last UK single? Bowls of chunky chips floated across the room. The till rang. A question about  Gardener's Question Time drew an instant laugh from the whole room for reasons that defeated me. After that the questions became more complicated including a TV film tunes round which involved two notes from each tune. There was more to it than simple questions and answers. It was like a giant, social, boozy crossword puzzle, complete with cryptic clues and tricks to fool the unwary. Finally, with a flourish, came the jackpot question. Five questions actually, one about local history, one about popular culture (post 2010), one about popular culture (pre 1970), one about gardening lore and one about cars. No confering.

"Right, remember we only check the answers if someone think's they've got all five. No takers? Janice. Might have known. Janice love you always say you have and you've only the got the gardening one."

"Hey hold on, I got the one about draining the old duckpond."

"Anyone else thinks one and one is five? No? Good. The jackpot now stands at two hundred and eleven pounds. (Applause)."

I took a last pint to my extra-crispy, un-mouldy room, ate my last biscuit and turned out the light. The sound system shook my bed.

"Right-O, are we all ready for the second half - where's that soft bloke on 'is own gone... to bed has he?'