Withington Pub Quiz League - quizbiz 06/11/13

The Pigs trip up but elsewhere the top teams stride on

Results & Match Reports

When it comes to The History Men age counts and so it proved in their match against Compulsory Meat Raffle. Ivor reports from ringside...

"The Red Lion was very quiet tonight for once (apart from us of course). Are there no Arsenal supporters at all in South Manchester?

The Compulsory Meat Raffle were charming guests as always. Tonight we faced a team consisting of the cream of Manchester’s UC winning sides of 2011 and 2012, as well as this year’s captain (Liz) and 2010 stalwart (and double Mastermind) Rachael. David and I occasionally compete against them in the Tuesday table top quiz at Fuel where they invariably finish first (David and I are not too hot on German electro-pop and US drama series of 2012) but tonight with questions from the Charas we thought we would have a fighting chance given that the Charas are almost as old as us and 'history' questions are likely to predate the first Blair cabinet.

And so it was. However our large margin of victory was largely due to losing the toss and being put into bat by CMR’s Richard. In our contest there was a significant mismatch of the 17 unanswered questions, with only 4 falling to us and 13 to CMR. Nevertheless, despite being a tad on the hard side, the paper held sufficient interest and gave plenty of enjoyment to the participants. For us QotW was the Oscar supporting actresses with initials MS. Rachael got them all.

I did appreciate the intro line to round one ('Orangemen are not the only fruitcakes - Warning: May contain punnets'). Depending on who is in charge on the other side of the Pearly Gates the author might find himself condemned to carry a Lambeg drum for all eternity up the hill at Tandragee!"

The Opsimaths started out in front but could never quite pull away from Albert, eventually just squeaking a win on the final pair of questions. The match took place in the Albert Club back lounge whilst in the main lounge a talk about a trip to Antarctica was in full swing. This proved quite an inspiration when the Opsimaths were asked (in Round 2 Question 1) all about Drake's Passage.

The high-flying Electric Pigs were brought to earth by Ethel Rodin in a close-fought match at the Fletcher Moss.

I've Never Been to One scored a 'Manchester City-like' victory over The Men They Couldn't Hang (oops, sorry Barry). Kieran reports on a great evening at the Griffin:

"Splendid evening in the company of The Men, Gerry and Roisin from The Charas, and our QM Emeritus Bob who was paying a brief visit to the UK. We were finally able to give him the pen he had been awarded last May which has been sat on my dining room table for six months. It almost goes without saying that he's not available for the WIST match next week so Hangman Dave has offered to officiate.
We seemed to spend most of the evening laughing, searching out one liners and pushing the boundaries of surrealism while occasionally answering questions."

The Bards got back to winning ways at the Cricket Club against the visiting Prodigals. Anne-Marie reports on a game of two halves in which the Bards picked all the easy subjects in Rounds 4/5 and (you've guessed it) the Prodigals didn't. Wasn't it Bard Steve who railed against the 'luck element' introduced by these 'Pick Your Own' rounds?

Quiz Paper Verdict

This week the paper was provided by The Charabancs of Fire. A typical Charas paper full of variety with more than a tinge of green running through the core (thank goodness for the Opsimaths' new recruit, Paddy). Not as high scoring as recent Charas papers but nonetheless enjoyable. A few quibbles from the Opsimaths over the veracity of some of the given solutions.....

Didn't Bishop Ridley die alongside Latimer in the Oxford conflagration (Rounds 4/5 Question 17)? And my quick research reveals quite a few real-life inspirations for James Bond (Round 8 Question 6). I have always been given to understand that Fitzroy McLean was the most plausible of these rather than Sidney Reilly.

No matter there were plenty of candidates for the Question of the Week award and as for Round of the Week well Round 3 definitely got our vote at the Albert Club.

From the Griffin it's either damnation or manna from heaven and this week Kieran opted for manna....

"The unanimous verdict was that it was an excellent paper and that Bertrand Russell was far too much of a smart arse. We're seriously considering Martin's future with the team since he got both Dickens questions right and that's just not how we roll. And we don't believe for one second that the Hey Nonny Nonny White Swan Plantagenet motto was genuine."

The Question of the Week

The combined might of the Albert, Opsimaths, Prodigals and Bards teams plump for Round 6 Question 7:

This Fair and Sceptred Isle had a spot of bother with General Galtieri in 1982 - but how did his near namesake, Davide Gualtieri, come even closer to causing national embarrassment for Blighty on November 17th 1993?

For the answer to this and all the week's questions click here.

Chatterbox

Next week 8 of our teams are involved in WIST/A-trophy Cup matches. Some points to note:

The location of the Stockport teams' home venues can be found by following this link. Note that 'Tiviot' on our Fixtures page is 'The Railway, Tiviot Dale' on the Stockport website and similarly 'Locomotiv Stöckpört' is really 'The Railway'

This season it is WithQuiz’s turn to set all the season’s WIST and A-trophy papers

Dave Barrass of TMTCH has kindly agreed to set next week’s paper

Whether the WithQuiz team is playing at Home or Away next week it is their responsibility to collect the paper from the Red (they should be available behind the bar from 7.30 onwards)

With these matches being the usual WithQuiz 4 a side, and as Stockport teams normally play with 6 a side, I have agreed with Stockport that we will permit substitutes at half time so that all 6 Stockport team members can get a game if they wish

For those who haven’t played one of these Stockport/WithQuiz cup matches before the paper is made up of 2 Stockport format rounds followed by 4 rounds in the WithQuiz style. For the Stockport style rounds:

All questions are conferred – there are no individual questions

Round 1 comprises 30 read out paired questions – two points each – offered over for a point if the first team get it wrong

Round 2 comprises 10 questions read out for both teams to answer in writing – if both teams get it right they get one point each; if one team gets it right and the other gets it wrong there is 2 points for the correct team and no points for the other team

The team that chooses (or is chosen) to go first after the toss, goes first in Round 1 (Stockport style) and then first in Rounds 5 and 6 (WithQuiz style); the other team going first in Rounds 3 and 4 (WithQuiz style)

WithQuiz teams please text/email me asap after the end of the match with the score and any noteworthy details

Megson's Last Word

Hope Springs Infernal

A Chairde,

A wise man, Friedrich Nietzsche perhaps, or maybe even Roddy when Ethel were going through a nihilistic phase, once told Fr Megson that Hope is in reality the worst of all evils since it serves to prolong the torments of man; neither Friedrich nor Roddy felt qualified to hazard a guess on what effect Hope might have on a woman. Fr Megson wasn't listening at the time since he was desperately hoping to recoup a goodly portion of the previous Sunday's collection plate takings on the 3:30 at Kempton Park. Later that evening however, as his kindly turf accountant helped him tear up his last batch of beaten dockets, he got to thinking just how wise those words really were.

His dark teatime of the soul was still with him when he woke in the wee small hours. He got up, fought his way over the mountain of spent Sacramental Red bottles and Gipsy Cream packets (he would need to find time to go shopping for basics in Lidl soon) and attempted to plug his spiritual leak by immersing himself in work. In vain, even after ten minutes of rapt contemplation on the life and works of St Teresa of Avila, and on the early edition of the Daily Star's guide to the racing at Uttoxeter, he felt no better. The bitter truth hit him like a sudden round on rocket science. He would never be happy until he had lost all hope. God and the Charabancs would have to go.

In truth the Charabancs should never have been a problem. They were, after all, the most hopeless thing in his life. 'Nil satis, nisi mediocrum' had been their mantra now for nigh on a quarter century. So why once more had he allowed Hope to spring infernal at the beginning of this season? Why could he never see that, even at their brilliant best, which mostly occurred between 8:30 and 9pm, that bewitching half hour between insobriety and mental incapacity, it was predestined to end in tears?

He had been too optimistic for his own good. How could he have been naive enough to think that new tactics, a revolutionary new formation and a strict dietary ban on turkey twizzlers would make a blind bit of difference? A turnip would always taste like a turnip no matter how much brown sauce one poured over it.

It made him squirm now to think that only last week he had been foolish enough to phone around for advice and, even though he rarely listened to protestants, how childishly gratified he had been to hear Sir Alex rant on for over an hour on....

"the need to toughen the buggers up both physically and mentally and then play the wee lassie with the Fenian name in the hole and stick the other bampots in a diamond formation, or maybe even a Christmas tree formation, aye, like wee fcekin Fenian fairies pretendin' tae be a Yule tree with Damo runnin' aroond like a numpty-heided false number 9 or whitever else shite thaim drookit pundits and joby-jabbers on TalkQuiz were always bletherin' on aboot wheniver ye turned on yer tranny. Jesus jonny, it was enuff to maik ye bowk! And dinnae gae me stairted on Roy fcekin Keane, anither heid the baw bampot from the Reeks. I fair banjoed him in the wallies in mah wee book, hae ye no read it yit, Faither? That'll wipe the sleekid smile aff his hackit big coupon, nae that he iver smiles inyway, gittin a smile oot a' him wid be lik gittin milk oot o' a fcekin bullock. Now fcek aff, Faither, and gae ma heid peace and claise the fcekin door behind ye. WHIT???? Ah cuid nae giv a tinker's testicle if yer oon the phone and nae actually in ma hoose, jist fcek aff an' dae whit ah tell ye or ah'll git ma hairdryer oot an' gae ye a wee blow jobbie. G'night Faither and tell the Pape ah wis askin fur him next time yer over in Rome winchin' his ring."

Sir Alex had once been a genius at making great men feel hopeless. Keegan, Rafa, Taibi, the blind Venetian; the list went on and on. So why could he not have done the same for Fr Megson? Taking his Hope with him, like some unwanted pet, the desperate priest disconsolately climbed the stairs, grabbed his flugelhorn and began furiously to improvise. His only hope was that the blues might blow away his Hope.