The Bards lose their 100% record to the Historymen in a thriller at the Red

Albert lost to Ethel Rodin at the ever sterling Moss.

Charabancs lost to Electric Pigs for whom Councillor Simcock reports:

"Probably the most enjoyable quiz evening of the season so far against one of our favourite and most convivial host teams, at The Turnpike where a pint is £1.09 cheaper than The Fletcher Moss!"

Damian on behalf of the Charas was not so enamoured (but then he only represents a mouldy old priest):

"For the umpteenth time this season, the Charas lost. Oh yes we fought, but we just didn't fight hard enough, yet again. The Piggies led in every round and finished worthy winners.  According to Piggy Andrew, Ivor's second-in-command in the Stats Dept., the Charas scored more twos but the Piggies were much better at the collective decisions. Hmmm...are they a bunch of Commies or something?"

TMTCH lost to the Smoke Fairies on behalf of whom Kieran waxes lyrical: "Excellent! The second week running we've finished by 10."

Historymen beat the Bards by a single point, destroying the last 100% record of the season.  Prodigal Anne-Marie was QMing at the Red and she describes the match thus:

"I was a last minute QM for the very tight contest between the Bards and The Historymen which went down to the last question.  The Bards did choose badly on the Blockbuster round managing to pick the 4 most difficult questions.  Tony commented that if you're having blockbuster, or similar style questions, then make them stretch over 2 rounds so that a team's selection of questions stands a better chance of evening up in terms of their hardness."  Point taken and understood for next time as they really did choose the stinkers (thanks to David Rainford for that round of questions)."

....and Bard-cracking skipper Ivor (who seems to have saved his job for another week) comments:

"The evening started badly for the Historymen when, with five minutes to kick off, we realised there'd been a cock-up on the QM front (i.e. we didn't have one).  There were no Prodigals spectating at the Red Lion so I was despatched to the Turnpike to see if any were there.  Only Charabancs and Electric Pigs were present but fortunately Andrew was able to raise Anne-Marie for us by phone (aren’t our local councillors wonderfully efficient?).  Ten minutes later she was safely in the chair with a lager, quizzing us with the paper she had helped to set.

Our games with the Bards are often close and so it was tonight.  The lead changed hands four times over the match.  The swing round was the Blockbuster round with the Bards managing to select the hardest of the questions on offer. Tony thinks there should be at least two rounds of this type so that there is a chance of the bad luck evening out over the longer distance.  It's my opinion, however, that when Lady Luck has deigned to be unkind it is more than likely she is unkind all night!  Inevitably the match came down to the last few questions and as neither Tony nor I proved to be foodies it was left to Anne to seal victory with the soup I’ve never heard of." 

Opsimaths beat Compulsory  Meat Raffle with some comfort - eventually - though it was level pegging at the half way stage.  Chatting to Rachael and co. afterwards I wondered why their form had dipped this season after such a promising start last season.  She blames the 1960s and 1970s.  Apparently to the under 30s 1980 onwards is "I remember that" territory and 1950 and earlier is "What they taught us in History at school" territory, but "The Beatles?  Never heard of them, mate."  Having said this I'm confident they'll climb upwards before too long.

...and finally Ivor:

The Pussycat They Couldn't Hang (Graham) votes this week for Round 4 Question 1:

Which super hero crime fighter was voiced by Scatman Crothers?

Next week it's the first round of the WIST Champions Trophy - so matches for the Opsimaths, Smoke Fairies, Pigs and Bards with a paper set by TMTCH.  All question papers will be available for collection at the Red as usual.  The WithQuiz team should collect the paper whether they're home or playing away.

Last Sunday (in The Sunday Times Magazine section) the article about Tony Hammond, his Dad, George Orwell and The Road to Wigan Pier finally appeared.  It told a fascinating tale.  Did you know that Prodigal Bard Katie is a Coalminer's Granddaughter?  If you can get a copy of the magazine it's a most interesting read.

P.S. If any of the WIST trophy games need a QM next Wednesday James (07710-255687) is free (as they say).

While on quizzing duty in the Turnpike last Wednesday in the company of the Prodigals and the Opsimaths I was asked a few times if Fr Megson would be writing an obituary for the late and perhaps lamented White Swan.  I was also asked if the Charabancs were sad or glad to see it go.

In answer to the first one, a legal gagging order is in place against Fr Megson.  Nobody likes it when a priest turns up at a wake, drinks all the whiskey and then starts to poke fun at the corpse.  During its lifetime the Stadium of Murk provided a rich source of inspiration for the parallel universe where Fr Megson and his motley gang of eccentric misfits joined battle against reality.  The least they can do in return is stay sober during the funeral and observe a dignified silence at the back of the chapel until the bier has passed - and if any of you dare make a joke about the gents toilet in the Swan at this juncture, I will personally send Dusty around to sort you out.

The answer to the second question is yes, the Charabancs were sad to see it go.  We had however, no doubt like Ethel and the rest of you, mixed feelings.  It was, let's be frank, no longer a place where it was an unadulterated pleasure to drink or socialise.  The grand old lady of Green Street was no longer grand.  She was only in her eighties, which is no age for a pub these days, but she looked older - senile in fact and decrepit.  She badly needed a carer but she obviously lived too far from Stockport for Messrs Robinson to hear her pleas for help.  In the end she gave up the ghost and slipped away virtually unnoticed.  In truth her spirit had departed years ago.

Let's be positive though, and thankful.......thankful for the pub it used to be.......thankful for the beer that used to taste like nectar by night and hemlock by morning.......thankful for the gourmet  bar snacks that catered for every taste from salt and vinegar to pork scratchings.......thankful for the folk club which always managed to keep one finger on the pulse of current trends in English and Celtic traditional music and another finger firmly embedded in the ear ( I don't remember this myself but Carmel assures me the audience sometimes used to include a band of local tricoteuses, who, in true Gallic "didn't we have a lovely day, the day we followed the tumbril"  style, sat clapping along to the music and knitting at the same time)........thankful  too for the jazz sessions where cool cats purred along to the beat of even cooler combos whose ghostly syncopations wafted downstairs and could still be heard going be-bop in the night until the very end........thankful for the beer garden - yes, Fr Megson, a beer garden in fcekin Ladybarn.  And not just a beer garden but a plastic climbing  frame in the shape of a shoe, to boot.  Ah, the bliss of being a happy, hippy parent in the 70s.  You could don your Sunday best loons and drink away the afternoon in the Swan, safe in the knowledge that your eight toddlers (or was it ten?) were having the time of their lives clambering up and sliding down a plastic shoe.

And thankful above all for the quizzes.  I used to think that only the Post Office social club on Quay Street had decent quizzes until I discovered the White Swan.  I didn't know many of the people who attended them in those days but, looking back, it was more than likely all the usual suspects from the ranks of the still young Withington quiz league .  If Barry Whitehead was there then could the rest be far away?

From this academy four Post Office rookies eventually summoned up the courage to meekly ask permission to join Withquiz.  "Where will you be playing from?"  asked Keith Glazzard, as he pocketed the  nominal £100 annual membership fee (only kidding).  I remember wondering if all the questions would be that easy to answer.

R.I.P. the White Swan and the old days.  A light bulb has gone out over all of Ladybarn.