Pub Quizzes. Yes, yes, I know; they are the exclusive reserve of beardy, pipe-smoking men whose aged bodies can no longer cope with the rigours of real train-spotting. For the ex-pat however, they allow you to meet up with your fellow countrymen, do a little networking, prove that you were, in fact, paying attention to the Latin teacher / sadist at school and enjoy a pleasant evening of genial socialising and getting to know new people. Or, have an excuse to get completely wasted on a Tuesday night with a group comprised entirely of Germans (and occasionally, Devon boy), whilst arguing over the name of the Greek god of rodents.
For reasons that I’m unaware of and can’t quite understand, I wasn’t too bad at pub quizzes in English-speaking pubs in Germany. In fact, I, or rather, my team won quite regularly and I managed to build up a reputation that, as long as I ignored questions about the Book of Genesis, I was actually quite knowledgeable. Maybe it was just that I was English as opposed to German and knew that it was (say) Captain Oates who had to go outside and may be some time, or the name of the last man on the moon, or just that there were an awful lot of questions about 80’s music. I became smug and arrogant – I was the pub quiz king, or at least a minor member of the pub quiz aristocracy.
Since returning, I’ve tried a non-ex-pat, “real” British pub quiz; “I could meet some new, interesting people,” I thought with undue optimism.
I paid the required 50 pence, bought a drink and waited for the first question. It was, and I smirked as I heard the groans of the other competitors, “Wiesbaden is the administrative capital of which German state?” Things did go ever-so-slightly downhill from there.
“What colour was Jordan’s wedding dress?” was question number two. When the next question started “Which soap star….” I have to admit that I suspected I wouldn’t be winning. Long before we reached the end I had given up. I did stay until closing time and found that as my answer-for-everything: “David Beckham or his wife” must have been correct approximately 27 times, I hadn’t done that badly. I was also part of, the quiz guy explained, “the only team to have ‘guessed’ the first answer correctly. But the question book is wrong – Steve over there was stationed in Bielefeld for 6 months and told me that it’s actually Frankfurt that’s the state capital of Hesse, so we didn’t count that one.”
I’m not going back. The thought of actually winning (even accidentally) such a quiz is too disturbing and apart from that, I haven’t got a beard.
German Word For Today: “Grundwissen” - The scientific study of soil.
Song playing as this was published: Zero 7 “Likufanele”
Pink! Jordan’s wedding dress was pink.
Do you want to join my team?
There was a time, not too long ago, when I could say “who’s Jordan?” That innocent time has passed.
INOAP: I’ve read, this year, a headline along the lines of “Jordan’s Heartache Over Son” and presumed that the residents of Amman were less impressed with Abdullah II than King Hussein. With hindsight, that’s probably not what the article in Hello! was actually about.
Who is Jordan?…..
lmao at the Wiesbaden question. I almost pissed myself when I read that!
What is Jordan? What isit that she does, that makes her known?
Oh, and just remember mate, it’s a raven.
The two Devon people: You’re not going to fool me into believing you are both still unaware of one of our nation’s greatest living member of the intelligensia.
J: As they weren’t prepared to say that Karachi was the city with the largest Pakistani population (and not Bradford), I didn’t see much point in doing the “but I used to own a house in Wiesbaden” routine.
My Latin teacher was a very nice woman called Barbara.
But I still don’t know who Jordan is.
Christina: I have to disagree. I have absolutely no doubts that Latin teachers, especially Latin teachers who like to be called Latin masters, rather than teachers and truly believe that they really should be at one of the better public schoools are all in league with Lucifer.
And, okay, as it’s you. Jordan appears to be (and I’ll freely admit I haven’t done too much research here, so take this with a pinch of salt) a the-letter-after-Z-list celebrity and human-based life support system for two very large silicone bags.
Google.co.uk knows all.
Hi! Just to say: “Congratulations for your birthday!” I know that you don’t like it, but how can I forget the day when you came to this strange and beautiful world? I do cherish you and I wish you all the happiness that you can enjoy. And if you can ‘t rejoice today…rejoice tomorrow!
A big and warm hug from this mad Brazilian girl 
Yes! Happy birthday, i’m even younger than you now
Happy Birthday.
Hope it was entirely interest free (well, given past experiences).