Opsimaths continued their meteoric climb up the table at the expense of the Electric Pigs

Ethel Rodin upset the form book and beat the History Men with some comfort

Who plays in goal for the fictional Private Eye team Neasden FC?

"Last night's quiz had 30 teams entered - with our quiz league much in evidence.  History Men won first prize.  Regards, Andrew"

Well done to all concerned!!

After a few hours spent in the scantily dressed conviviality of VESPERS nightclub, Fr. Megson frequently loses track of his fiscal outgoings.  By way of stark contrast, his monthly incomings have remained brutally static since 1976, the year, coincidentally, that he sent that ill-advised letter to the Vatican questioning the need for dashing red-haired young priests to remain celibate every Friday.  The resultant gap is known to economists as Fr. Megson's shortcomings.

The local bank manager, several utilities and the people who manage his WORLD OF LEATHER storecard are not averse to corresponding by post with Fr. Megson reminding him in less than subtle terms of these shortcomings.

His spirituality being no match for this ugly face of capitalism, Fr. Megson's only recourse is to outfox the postman by sauntering down to the Village early in the morning where he likes to indulge in a spot of window shopping at the CHEESE HELMET.  He never ceases to be amazed at the smells and prices that emanate from in there.  Why, he often ruminates, do people spend so much on a lump of cheese with holes in it recycled from last night's mousetrap - one that smells like it passed its sell-by date the year City last won a trophy?

People just don't think things through, do they? After all, it's not as if cheese was scarce.  If you take the trouble to walk a few doors down (all the while making sure the postman isn't following you) you can pick up a nice packet of Galtee processed slices from the Co-op for a fraction of the price.  And slices are so user-friendly; even hungover priests can easily manhandle them into the gap between two slices of Mother's Pride to make a delicious and nutritional lunch whenever the housekeeper storms out ranting and raving just because you forgot to pay her last month and you happened to leave your socks on the kitchen table last night.

But where was I?  Ah yes, outside the CHEESE HELMET.  Funnily enough, I was here last Tuesday morning as well, when who should walk past but Dusty.  She was on her way to do a bit of window shopping at the fish shop.  A brave woman is Dusty.  Some of them fish would give you the collywobbles, lying there with their big open mouths full of teeth and their sad, accusing eyes.  Is it any wonder Hemingway shot himself?

"Morning, Father", she said,

"How's the hangover?  Is it confession you're taking or are you just stood there avoiding the postman? 

"He's like a feckin' limpet that same postman.  You could have your head under the bathwater for a good half hour and he'd still manage to find you!  A shameless lackey of the financial powers that be, that's what he is, and no mistake.  Makes you wonder if Engels wasn't right all along, doesn't it Father?

"Listen, Father, could I ever bend your lug for a minute?  It's just that I find myself on the horns of a theological dilemma.  I keep having this dream, Father.  At least I think it's a dream but sure how can you tell these days?  Anyway, I'm always running around in this lovely big garden having a great time altogether - and me without a stitch on - and then a big snake sticks his head out of the nettles and says 'Dusty, sink yer gnashers into this big juicy Beauty of Bath.....ach you will, you will, go on, go on....if you do you won't ever have to confer again.....that Withquiz will be your oyster.....go on, go on, sure it's only a bit of forbidden fruit........where's the harm?'

"Well Father, what do you think I should do?  I'm not the kind of girl who would normally chat to snakes or take sweets from them, but sure wouldn't it be worth it maybe just the once?  I'd love to beat them auld Mad Dogs all the way up Didsbury Road and back again and them yelpin' and howlin'.  Come to think of it Father, it wouldn't do your team any harm either after that lily-livered performance you gave last week.  What do you think, Father?  Should I partake of the Tree of Knowledge?"

"Well Dusty", replied Fr. Megson, "since time immemorial that has been one of the ten great unanswerable questions.  If I'm not mistaken, the other nine appeared last year in a paper set by Snoopy's Friends.  Would you consider maybe listening to a Leonard Cohen LP?  Therein might lie the wisdom for which you seek....or I could let you borrow a few of my Cliff Richard albums if you prefer........hang on.....they're putting some of them Polish sausages in the window now.......'Yum yum, pig's bum' as my Granny used to say.  Listen Dusty, don't take offence or anything.  It's just that I've not really got my spiritual head on at the moment.  Could you ever give us the lend of 79p and we'll consider the matter closed?"