Thursday, 4 August 2011

The Quiz

Every Thursday, a few friends and I compete in our local pub quiz. Pub quizzes are the ultimate manly activity. Beer and facts. A pub quiz seperates the men from the boys. Unfortunately, we are probably all still boys as we have yet to win despite the fact we all think we are clever. Our A-Team consists of people who go to University at Edinburgh, Essex, Leeds and myself at Reading. Oh, and someone who’s been to University twice.

However, disaster struck in our most recent outing. The majority of our A-Team were busy and were unable to come. So, we drafted in the B-Team. We knew we were doomed to yet another winless week.
One of the B-Team members is, let’s just say, very confident in his answers so usually we go along with his answers and they turn out to be wrong. So, in the best way possible, we ignored his answers. However, that turned out to be terrible. He was right in all his answers and we were doing awfully. Terrible scores like 5/15 were notched up in the opening rounds.

Only the picture round and the music round could save us from humiliation of last place. We performed terribly yet again. When the final scores were announced, we had somehow finished last. Against a room full of drunkards and some people so old they probably didn’t know what their name was, we somehow came last. This was awful.

The second it was announced we had come last we quickly left, embarrased and shamed. What idiots we are.

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