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WITHQUIZ The Withington Pub Quiz League QUIZBIZ 20th January 2016 |
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| WQ Archive | Comments | Question papers | |||
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WITHQUIZ The Withington Pub Quiz League QUIZBIZ 20th January 2016 |
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| WQ Archive | Comments | Question papers | |||
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Wins for the Bards, Dunkin' D, Albert, Ethel and the History Men in an evening that tested the scorers' ability to keep pace with the points being notched up |
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Results & Match Reports |
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"A most enjoyable evening, as always, when
playing the Charas. Eric somehow managed to break down
on the motorway, so Dom was the stand-in QM. He proved
more than able to withstand the persistent moaning, groaning
and downright ribaldry - and that was just from Róisín - he
got worse from the rest of us.
The quiz started off poorly with the rather meaningless
question: 'What product, etc., etc.' (see Round One Q1).
The answer 'Beer' seemed as flat as the usual offering at
the Turnpike. From then on the quiz could only get
better although there were one or two questions along the
way to which the answer seemed so obvious that everybody
smelled a rat (or suspected there was a trap which we were
about to fall into). As a result there were three
unanswered questions in the first round. After that we
decided that, if the answer was obvious, we'd go for it -
although I did lose my nerve on the Joe Stalin question. It
was all bluff and double-bluff. I must concede that
quizzing is all in the mind and so who cares if you talk
yourself out of a couple of points.
As to who was born in Prague in 1884, I promised faithfully
I wouldn't mention the fact that one of the Charas squeaked
"Jitka"
Dunkin' Dönitz beat The Prodigals at
the Griffin by a fairly narrow margin. Kieran
sends this summary....
"I had the bad luck to win the toss and after
last week's experience I offered the choice to the
Prodigals. They had been similarly skewered last Wednesday
so they offered it straight back. Trusting to the
Opsimaths' experience and fairness in question-setting I
opted for the default of going first first only to discover
at the end of the evening that we had twice the number of
unanswered questions fired in our direction as our opponents
(i.e. 4 to their 2).
Thoroughly enjoyed the evening and it quite cheered me up
after all sorts of recent traumas. Listening to the 1972
bootleg of the Dame in Santa Monica as I write this and
we're setting in two weeks time ....... just saying......."
The History Men, crowned last week as
SBWQTOAT ('Second Best WithQuiz Team Of All Time') confirmed
their status - but only just - by beating Compulsory Mantis Shrimp
at an amazingly quiet Red. Indeed the front parlour
was totally
It was a rollicking good evening with loads
of laughter from both sides. Topical discussion ranged
far and wide - for instance the Lancashire schoolboy who had
had his home overrun by armed police as a result of his
innocent answer to a question his teacher posed at school.
He had been asked what sort of house he lived in and, none
too clever at spelling, he'd written 'terrorist' (it turns
out he had meant terraced!) - and the problems the New York
Times had had in interpreting the description Donald Trump
had been given in the House of Commons debate when one MP
had called him a 'wazzock'.
In between all this chatter we managed to run
a quiz which ended up with a slender victory for the home
team. Once there was a convenient pause in the
post-match conversation, Ivor delivered his statistical
verdicts using somewhat colourful metaphors which I will not
repeat verbatim for fear of offending any primates who might
browse this site. It seems, although the result was on
a knife edge until the very last question, the lead had
swung back and forth like certain parts of an orang-utan's
anatomy. Ivor added that there were a mere 4
unanswered questions breaking 2 to each side, a massive 34
twos scored with each team registering 17, and Rachael and
Ivor shared the honour of being MVP ('Most Valued Player').
Non-quizzy exchanges went on unabated until
bar staff reluctantly threw us out into the freezing
Withington night air at quarter to midnight. Topics
covered included the national political scene ('Is Lucy
Powell comfortable in a Corbyn Shadow Cabinet?') to more
parochial matters ('The plans for the City Centre
The Electric Pigs lost to Albert in
the post-Christmas Fletcher Moss derby. Captain
Victorious, Mike explains....
"This was an enjoyable quiz played in a good
spirit. At one point both teams agreed to let the Pigs
have another go at a question when their worthy QM, Andrew,
slipped up and asked them which Italian car had been
produced over 8,000 times (rather than over 8,000,000 times)
up to 2013. We managed to score zero points on the
beer questions, so clearly clean living isn't what it is
cracked up to be. The theme in Round 1 and the
vegetarian-linked round were considered too clever for the
likes of us since neither team could work them out.
Nevertheless both teams managed a decent score without the
help of the themes."
The Men They Couldn't Hang lost to Ethel Rodin
at the Parr's Wood Hotel. Graham adds this....
"Despite falling behind 8 - 1 in the first
round the Hangers hung on until the penultimate pair.
Sadly Shakespeare never wrote the six words "The bastards
all have it infamy!" |
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Quiz Paper Verdict |
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A
hatful of points on offer with the Red Lion match recording
a massive aggregate score of 94 - and the overall aggregate
average across all five matches being 83.2. Were the
questions interesting as well as accessible? Well, yes
seems to be the general consensus. Was there an
excessive amount of text in the questions
and answers? Well, yes - but judging by the time the
results started pinging on my phone most matches were done
and dusted before 10.30pm. In truth the papers which
generate long-drawn out matches are those where there are
too many questions which lead to lengthy conferences rather
than those with lots of text.
Kieran....
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The 'one' theme escaped us all but the
questions were fine. The veggie link was way too
nebulous to be of any use and there was quite a disparity of
difficulty in the beer round. But we liked the sportsmen
famous for other things and the 'Time Person of the Year'
round (only one woman, famous for an affair?) and we ended
wondering if Rudolphs Hess and Nureyev had ever featured in
the same quiz question, or indeed anywhere, together before
tonight.
Anne-Marie simply called it "a great quiz" - but added
(via the accompanying picture from the Griffin's wall)
"....that just sometimes the answer is staring you in the
face - literally! |
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The Question of the Week |
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For the answer to this and all the week's questions click here . |
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Grumpy Old Man (part 1) |
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* (see above) Just one example of the idiocy of the Wilmslow Road Cycle Lane scheme...... As drivers turn into Moorland Road off Wilmslow should they slow down to 20mph or 15mph - or like everyone else take no notice whatsoever of the forest of road signs that have been inflicted on us over the past few weeks?
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Big Boot and Custard Cream |
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Father Megson woke up. He allowed a few brief thoughts of mortality, and the four Last Things, to scuttle across his consciousness before swatting them firmly with a large tumbler of sherry and a wacky cheroot. He was out of hospital now and on the road to recovery. He had called into the Red over Christmas where Dr Tim had given him the once over and told him that he was as sound as a Bells except for his 'vas deferens' which was, in layman's terms, well and truly fecked, adding tearfully (Dr Tim always got a bit maudlin around closing time) that if the good Father wanted children in the future he would probably have to steal them. Medically speaking, Fr Megson was no longer in a coma but, to the unpractised eye, it was hard to tell. Certainly he still preferred to appear comatose whenever the bishop phoned to discuss his return to work, or when the quiz team called around to throw bricks through his window. He had had to meet the team at training and tell them them about his attempt to replace them with intelligent (but murderous) girls in duffel coats. They had taken it badly, very badly. So badly in fact that Fr Megson had feared more violence. Fortunately, however, they had nodded off before being able to give full vent to their fury.
He drank another tumbler of sherry and made a
mental note to get up before dark and turn on the microwave.
He had a nice young Jesuit coming round for Fr Keane arrived promptly at six. Father Megson found him in the hall.
Physically he was as imposing in the flesh as he had been on the airwaves. Perhaps a trifle abrupt in manner and perhaps a little too conventional in dress (black soutane over matching Bri-nylon socks and panties). Fr Megson had dared to hope that he would be wearing something a trifle more decadent but it was not to be. Clearly Fr Keane was more of an angry tallboy than a cross-dresser. Fr Megson told his guest to grab a pouffe and offered him a tumbler of sherry.
After tea they sat and shivered as a seasonal gale blew through the broken windows and smashed front door. Fr Megson would have liked to warm himself by cuddling up but something in Fr Keane's icy stare and raised fists suggested that he did not wish to share his pouffe. In a desperate attempt to break the ice Fr Megson decided to spark a debate on management tactics.
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....so
I won't. It wasn't a squeak I heard ..... it was a
loud sotto voce! 
empty for the duration of the quiz. I know this
because I was there acting as Honorary QM for Ivor and his
crew.
Mayfield
area including the HS2 terminus and the renovation of the
glorious old Fire Station building facing Piccadilly') - and
even more locally - to the total cock up the council have
made in implementing the Wilmslow Road Cycle Lane scheme*(see
pictures at the foot of this page).
On a more positive council note I did see Councillor Andrew Simcock on the local news yesterday announcing the winner of
the WoManchester statue competition (Emmeline Pankhurst, of
course!). Congratulations Andrew - a great idea ably
brought to fruition. 
tea and a chat about the art of team management. He
had first met Fr Keane on a TalkQuiz phone-in on the
wireless. Right from the moment the severe young
curate had bellowed at him to turn his fcekin' wireless off
when he was on the fcekin' wireless, Fr Megson had liked the
cut of his Jesuit jib. Here was the type of manager Fr
Megson had always longed to be. He listened spellbound
to the Hitleresque vehemence of Fr Keane's argument that all
losers were tosspots who deserved nothing but a good kick up
the arse and never mind buying them a fcekin' round of free
drinks - and his insistence that the only way of handling
the ongoing threat from them hoors in the Griffin was to
carpet bomb East Didsbury and the northern badlands of
Heaton Mersey. Nuke the fcekers and nuke 'em hard.
Such resolute manliness had caused Fr Megson to swoon.
He had desperately wanted to ask Fr Keane if he loved the
feel of silk against his naked skin but had made do with
asking him if he cared to pop around to his bijou bungalow
for a quick bite and maybe something to eat.