Carvery and Quiz Machine

Last night, I enjoyed a lovely evening with my good friend Joanne, which combined two of my favourite things: a carvery and a quiz machine.  Incidentally, please click the link and follow her on Twitter.  She doesn’t really understand it, but if enough people pester her then she might share
her Adam Rickitt joke with you.

Not long after arriving at the pub, I was presented with one of modern life’s
great conundrums.  When you take a pregnant woman to the pub, people are going to assume that you’re responsible (even though I’m not).  This is fine until she insists on going to the bar and hence making me look like a male chauvinist twat.  However, if I were to insist that I  go to the bar then that’s inherently sexist.  What’s a man to do?  At the end of the day, you can’t argue with these modern birds, so she went to the bar.

Anyway, we had a lovely carvery.  The Yorkshire puddings weren’t quite
up to the standard of a Toby’s, but otherwise it was excellent.  After the meal we retreated to the bar area and were confronted with a quiz machine.  We immediately pounced.

For two intelligent people, we didn’t do very well to begin with.  Let’s be honest, we put quite a few pounds in it, even though we know that these machines are designed to rob you.  The questions start out as:

Q: What colour is the sky?

Blue, Red, Nostril or Pacific Ocean.

But, by the time you get within winning a pound, it changes to:

Q: What year was Chevy Chase born?

1941, 1942, 1943 or 1943.

It helps to be a good guesser.

Eventually we began to find our form on a game called Trivia for Dummies.  We even started to win a few £1 games.  Before we knew it, we were about to win a £3 bonanza and this would, in some small way, have made up for all the money we had lost earlier.  I confidently pressed the word ‘kittens’ and prepared to bask in the glow of big money winnings.  Sadly,  the stupid machine said that I pressed something different.  I  can’t stress vigorously enough that I definitely pressed kittens, but Joanne accused me of having fat fingers.  Actually, she accused me of having “stupid fat fingers”, which is even worse.  Could a decade long friendship be brought to a close over £3?  It came close, but I think we managed to make it up.

I definitely pressed kittens though.