February 2010 The time, what’s the fucking time? I’ve been stuck in the BBC Studios (Weakest Link Division) for an interminable length of time, I’m feeling like a session with the Spanish Inquisition and Gestapo combined would be about as heavy as the systematic ‘Death By Quizshow’ that the BBC – a body funded by the taxpayer – are putting me through. When it started, I felt like Rocky Balboa, ready for that underdog-inspired round. Now, I feel like I’ve just been kneecapped by the IRA. Survival, not prestige or the money, is all that matters. They’ve all gone – the Welshman, the Geordie, the dinnerlady, the DJ, the psychic, the Mancunian, the single Mum. Just me – the student – and the pensioner left. Youth vs wisdom, and £1510 to be snatched. So he thought GK Chesterton wrote a collection of stories about Father Ted, and I thought you needed a Permit to Ride (damn the Beatles!), but this is the ultimate battle now. Anne Robinson, a much-stretched hag with a manner somewhere between that of Thatcher and your least favourite elderly relative, hangs in the manner of a bat in Notre Dame, surveying those to beneath who dare to peer on her imperious surroundings. Sadly, she’s not upside-down, but I’m sure she can afford to have her face look more like a Picasso painting if she tries. I thought I’d have used up my luck long, long before this moment, so the initial nerves were gone and I’m just knackered and wanting to go home in one piece, yet still anxious to keep going. It’s been a long day, and I have to get on. Pensioner’s starting to crack, I think, as Sudden Death questions approach. Sanguinity is flooding through me as he misses his first penalty. Robinson barks out my first question/penalty. I step up as it becomes apparent that I don’t have the faintest idea what she’s on about. Something about molluscs and their precious stone. Amber – no, I’ve seen Jurassic Park, it’s mosquitoes that produce them. Emerald? Can’t think of anything else. Nope, it’s pearl, I blast over the crossbar and it’s still all-square, the pensioner’s missed too. Who cares? 0-0. Read the full article here www.capsule.org.uk/blog
Words: Ken Searle Illustration: Tom J. Hughes