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A Lovely Piece of Card

I had a bewildering time at the EQC; "bewildering" in the sense that I was so delightfully confused and pulverised by the heavy trivia action, on returning to civilian life I now really miss really really hard questions on subjects I thought it was impossible to ask quiz questions about (we laughed about the American father of beekeeping, yet there's a question about him in Bamber Gascoigne's new quiz book). I'll write about it in further detail once I have secluded myself at home and can smoke myself silly in a suitably cancerous environment.

In the Meantime...
Me old mucker Chris invited me, as would one leech pass on information to another leech about the location of a hearty bloody supply, to fancy la-dee-dah Shore.ditch Ho.use where he is a member *giggle giggle* for their first ever quiz. It was held on the top floor next to the heated pool (of which I had a fear of falling into by the end) where we would have expensive food and drink ferried to us by waiters and waitresses with nice hair. I spied Location Location Location's Kirstie Allsop wearing some sort of grey artist's smock take one look at the gathered peeps and leave swiftly.

As for the quiz, well. It was hosted by Lester, who could only be described as a kind of evil Larry Grayson dressed in khaki coloured suit and embittered and twisted beyond belief by his middle years. It did not surprise me to hear that he interviewed showbiz folk for the evil Daily Mail where everything is, obviously, evil. I overheard that he had set the questions "from the internet, Pears Encyclopedia Quiz Thingy and the newspapers" and that it too him four hours and if anyone wanted a bonus point they would have to buy him a Bellini. Consequently, he was quite far gone down the Avenue of the Pissed by the climax (oo-er, missus) and was making lesbian and slut jokes about the quiz helpers that quite frankly made you giggle and then wonder if Lester was actually beyond evil, instead being ultra-evil. This was confirmed when he said I had "no life" for getting a question about Brunel correct because I had seen a rather mundane Channel 4 documentary about him. What a sour-faced bitch!

Sure, I was disgusted by the people using Blackberries (one when pressed shouted "IT'S ACTUALLY AN IPHONE!". Oh, look at that specky git. What a wazzock!) and general open and blatant use of mobiles. We all looked at them with accusing eyes and pointy fingers, but resisted the urge to squeal like pigs. It did not, however, matter in the end. We won by bloody miles. It was such a margin I actually, unbelievably, felt bad about taking £150 worth of drinks and food ('tis very nice nourishment they offer at SH) off a bunch of rich kids and hoity toity media twonks. Bad? Why? Because it didn't feel like a challenge answering questions about how many Morning Clouds were owned by Ted Heath or what the colour of the stone peridot is in such company. Naturally, many of them had no clue on such quiz chestnuts, of the kind you will obviously find in Pears Quiz Companion and many a traditional pub quiz. It was not subject matter suitable for Shoreditch House (no fashion, no foreign films and so on) where they serve pizza with Tuscan sausage and broccoli as toppings. And I'm saying that with a straight face.

So yeah okay. I am taking the vouchers and will scarf down the gilded food with no little hesitation. I have given it some thought (or maybe not ... maybe this is just filler filling out the post) and realised that preventing other people from eating the said delicacies will make me a tiny bit happier. Still, perhaps it was the contrast with the high end competition of the EQC and the battering a baby equivalent of the night's quiz that caused the strange discombobulation. Easier doesn't necessarily make you feel better.

Minor Note About the Future
Will, yes Will of TFI Friday fame, who had earlier shouted his disapproval at our taking the lead with the word "LOSERS!" said my name just as my team was about to leave. It seems he had remembered me from Monkey production Grand Slam four years before. Chatting about quiz stuff in a convivial way (this was in stark contrast to the point in the evening when his team was accused of cheating by another and their was a dual 'FUCK YOU!' face-off with jutting middle fingers), he mentioned that the US version of Grand Slam went so swimmingly that if a second series is commssioned next year then their may be British contestant involvement *nudge nudge*. Great. That's all I need. The learning of infuriating anagrams and numbers and all that crapola. Again. I jest, of course! I would love to do it again. Especially if it is filmed in the US (and the exchange rate is still extremely favourable).