Last Saturday, my friend Uncle B lost his Quiz Night virginity. In the lead up, he was understandably very excited.
“Obviously, film is my strongest category,” he told one of his work mates the day beforehand. “But I like to think I have a broad grasp of general knowledge… except for maybe history, politics… sport… oh, and literature.”
“So, just films then?” his work friend remarked.
“Yes, just films,” he admitted.
Still, Uncle B was lucky on the night that there was a whole section devoted to films – which our table got a perfect score for. That’s ten-out-of-ten, people!
However, on reflection, there was not a single literary question – which is my personal quiz night superpower. Most certainly, there was not a single question on feminist performance theory in the 1980s – the topic of my honours dissertation. Sheesh! (That sheesh was directed at the lack of 80s feminist performance theory questions but could equally be applied to the fact I once wrote twelve thousand words on the topic.)
And since at least three of our party were self-professed experts in the area of Politics and World Events, it was disappointing that the only vaguely related question was a close-up of [Australian Opposition Leader] Tony Abbott’s lycra-clad cock in a ‘Guess the famous person’ section. (For our sins, we got the question right).
Anyway, no wonder our team came second. It’s clear they just asked us the wrong questions. Yeah, that must be it.
Of course, the Mild-Mannered Lawyer tried to blame our loss on my “slow writing”, which, quite frankly, I found discriminatory. For reasons unknown, the person designated to write down the answers in the ‘Speed Round’ was the one person at the table with osteoarthritis. OSTEOARTHRITIS, PEOPLE! And the fact that I wrote down ‘Flemington’ instead of ‘Lamington’ was neither here nor there and most certainly not alcohol-related. Anyone – even the most sober person in the world – could make that mistake. Anyone. I dare the MML to go up to ten random people on the street and ask them to write ‘Lamington’ and I’ll guarantee that at least half will write ‘Flemington’. And by ‘half’, I mean ‘one’. And by ‘one’, I mean ‘me’. Especially if I’m completely rat-arsed.
In any case, it should be stated for the record that I wrote down 12 answers while the MML, who, having commandeered someone else’s pen so she could compile an alternate list, wrote down a grand total of ZERO. That’s possibly because she was too busy shouting “Flemington!” at me.
Anyway, there was a point when someone looked around our table and realised, of our nine team mates, only Uncle B and KT actually had a child at the kindergarten which the quiz night was raising funds for. And even then, they were both eleventh hour additions to our table.
“Uh, so why are we here?” someone asked the MML, who had arranged the whole evening.
I think her (drunken) reply was something along the lines of “QUIZZZZZZZZZZ NIGGGHHHHHHHHHHT!” which, to be quite honest, still sounded a lot like “Flemington” to me.
Hehe most amusing NDM! I’ve been meaning to ask u, as part of ur feminist performance theory studies, did u study the Scroll? ( think that’s what it’s called-the one where she pulls it out of her..you know..place that gets vajazzled).. I had to at uni (for my incredibly valuable fine arts degree, almost as useful as urs) and was quite taken aback by the whole thing!
No. I perhaps would have gone on to do a PhD in the subject had I known. Or not.
I’ve never done a quiz night. I feel like I’m lacking something in my life. It’s probably a good thing though, I don’t know very much especially under pressure. I’m trying to work out what my area of expertise might be. Perhaps the new romantics music movement, oh and Lost… I know everything there is to know about Lost…except what it was about, but there is no answer to that.
Hmm, I don’t think I’ll try quiz night.
Another quiz night virgin? Wowzers. By the way, you ‘attend’ a quiz night, not ‘do’ one, unless you’re a porn star. Which I definitely am not. You know, for the record.
I can’t do quizz nights. Most of the time I like to think I know things, but as soon as I am put under pressure to produce knoweldge in front of people the only thing that appears to be firmly fixed in my head are the words to “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go”, which are almost never useful at a quizz night.
If reading this post has replaced Wham with a picture of Tony Abbott’s (fully loaded) speedos I will never ever forgive you.
Worse still is if the mental picture of Tony Abbott’s speedos is accompanied by ‘Wake me up before you go-go’…
The Mild Mannered Lawyer was shouting at you?! I don’t believe it. Unless of course the prize was a free jug of beer, that brings out the beast in all of us…
She had to shout at me to be heard over the other seven people shouting at me during the so-called ‘Speed Round’, which I think should be renamed the ‘Shouting Round’ or the ‘Discrimination against Sufferers of Osteoarthritis Round’. Sheesh!
Wish we’d been there but we had a Quiiiiiiiiiiiz Niiiiiiiiight of our own the same night. You could have a table full of scholars and they’ll be powerless in the face of the obscure pop culture questions that dominate these things. Though last year we had a GP at our table and even he didn’t know how many bones there are in the human body (206).
My motto is if you’re going to get an answer wrong get it as wrong as you possibly can. If they’re going to ask the names of The Sullivans daughters then they’ll have to expect Sneezy, Dopey and Pestilence in response.
United we stand, divided we fall. Next year lets make sure our respective fundraising event organisers consult with each other before fixing dates. Shuh!
No quiz night virgin here. Many years ago we were weekly attendees of Trivia Night at the Story Bridge Hotel in Brisbane. We never won, but usually did better than most.
The big thing about this competition was that it had a drinking trophy attached. A tab was kept and the table who consumed the most over the “series” was deemed the Drinking Trophy winner. What makes this especially alarming is that the consistent winner was a team of air traffic controllers. The lesson we learnt was never to fly out of Brisbane on a Thursday morning.
I understand that air traffic controllers have the most stressful job in the world, followed closely by Trivia Night hosts.
I’ve been to two quiz nights, one I got so drunk I did a performance on the grand piano, that would have been fine had I had one or two piano lessons in my life. And the second I remained mute and sober for fear of embarrassing myself again.
I figure your choices at quiz nights are to either
a) get competitive and try really hard to win or get a place requiring a selective process for your table companions or
b) get totally intoxicated and just have fun especially with the answer sheets or
c) cheat with a smart phone
Thanks for your tips.
However, I think the only way you could cheat with a smart phone during the so-called ‘Speed Round’ is by throwing it at the scribe at a neighbouring table.
I reckon you wrote flemington because of your subconscious (or unconscious) memory of that old cakeshop joke, the precise details of which elude me.
It’s something to do with lamingtons and flemingtons – a ‘phlegmington’ actually being a vanilla slice (snot block. snot=phlegm? geddit?)
See? Great comic geniuses of eras past have made that connection between the two words. I merely was carrying on in their tradition.
Flemington!
(I couldn’t help myself)
Yeah, yeah. That’s what the MML said.
Oh, you’ve made me come over all nostalgic for my pre-children days when I actually went out at night *slightly* more often than I do now. My partner and I participated in a few quiz nights together and usually didn’t embarrass ourselves too much. In fact, once we were on the winning team when the prize was a day at the cricket in a corporate box at the MCG, with catering and service. Despite having absolutely no interest whatsoever in cricket, I actually had quite an enjoyable day, thanks largely to rain in the morning (during which we played 500) and a plentiful supply of wine. Thanks for taking me back, NDM. Hope you didn’t miss out on a day at the cricket by losing. Er, I mean coming second.
It was a huge oversight on the part of the organisers that there was no prize for (equal) second place. After all, first place is just for show offs.
I’m glad you’ve written this blog, because the night is a complete blank for me
QUIIIIIIIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZZ NIGHHHHHHHHHHHHT!
What is it about trivia and alcohol? I went to a quiz night last weekend too – for my nephew and niece’s school. Much better than my own children’s school, because I didn’t have to front up there the next week after:
1, Declaring “18th Century German Literature is my specialty subject (true) – call me when you need me!” and getting rip-snortingly drunk.
2. Bellowing an answer at my brother, and when he was too slow to write it down, bellowing “WHAT?! I AM 100% RIGHT!” (Not in my specialty subject either, mind you.)
3. Making snarky comments aloud to my husband about the so-called Yummy Mummies at Some Schools while waiting for a cab. Using my IndoorButVeryDrunk Voice.
i love quiz nights and yet am hopeless at them, my husband doesn’t particularly like quiz nights and is brilliant at them – what is a girl to do?
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