Tuesday, 4 January 2011

Answer Me This.

There are two things I really like and they are looking at birds and doing pub quizzes. Even Doctor Who doesn't give me the giggly erection that birdies and booze questions do. I'm in my element. Lovely animals and being in a pub shouting out film facts. It's better than secks. Whatever that is.

But I am in Northern Ireland. That's right, the other place that likes to say NO. I went to two bird sanctuaries over the last two days. One was shut, obviously, and one turned out to be a private sanctuary. Where the birds are bred for hunting. Jesus fucking Christ. Then there was the pub quiz. I've been to lots of pub quizzes and I like them for the very good reasons that they're in pubs, I can have booze, no music will be playing and everyone is pretty much as old as me. Young people hate pub quizzes and therefore they cannot come in and taunt me with their youth and lovely hair and immortality. If young people so much as hear a question, to them, it's like still being at home with their stupid old parents. "I don't have to answer this", they shout over the top of their embarrassing ringtone. "You don't understand me or my music". Then they storm out of the pub, slam the door and play Vampire Weekend at full volume from their phone at the bus stop while fucking energetically and constantly. The stupid arseholes. They'll catch their death out there while we, the aged, are safe in a cosy pub quiz eagerly writing down topical answers, music trivia and arguing over the photo round. Young people are so stupid they can't see how brilliant it is to just stop fucking for a couple of hours and just get quizzical. LOL!

Except the youth of Northern Ireland.

We went to Roma's which is the good bar in my hometown. There are lots of bars in my hometown but most have retained that old charm of YOU WILL GET YOUR HEAD KICKED IN so Roma's is the best choice. It's in the centre of town but with an old countryside feel to the interior. Perfect for a quiz night. The only thing that ruined it was ABSOLUTELY FUCKING EVERYTHING.

The music was deafening and youthful and dreadful. It was quite loud before the quiz started but for some unfathomable reason they turned it way up as the questions began. The pub quiz had a pumping techno soundtrack. It's a fucking PUB QUIZ! Not Tron. It was so difficult to hear what the bored, 12 year old quiz master was saying. The awful music was bad enough but the fact that the quiz master got his microphone skills from Norman Collier really didn't help.

That's right. I referenced Norman Collier. I did that because I'm a handsome and distinguished old man and not a fucking child like everyone else in the bastard room. EVERY. SINGLE. ONEOFTHEM. It was me and my family (the youngest being 29) versus nine other teams of ....no....not teams... CRÈCHES of fresh faced, energetic, good looking, happy WANKERS. What the fuck are they doing at MY pub quiz and what the hell have they done to it? Why aren't they outside throwing bricks at libraries and quoting Misfits and drinking and aborting? Why can't they all just fucking act their age? GET OUT OF MY PUB QUIIIIIIIIIZZZZZ!!!

Of course, I was delighted that someone actually asked the quiz master to turn the sound down but imagine my disappointment when I found out that the person was me and I was told NO. Well, they said yes but they didn't do it so that's a NO in my book. My first complaint failure of the year. I was depressed. The quiz was loud, had a sports round and was infested with youth. And the worst part? They were all really nice.

Fucking bastarding young people. They were ruining my quiz and now, thanks to being friendly and fun, were ruining my chance to relax back and hate them. The table next to ours helped with a sports question. The table across invited us to a sing song. They were young and having fun. Humbug.

It's hard to come to terms with the fact that I might be too old for pub quizzes and has certainly made me reflect on my future. How will I feel when I find out that dominoes is a young man's game? That Last Of The Summer Wine has got too complicated and relies too much on special effects? That Werther's Originals are what da yoof drop?

I have to just admit defeat, I suppose. Everyone loved the pub quiz except us and even then we enjoyed ourselves because everyone else was enjoying themselves. Like when someone else's great-grandchildren come to visit at the nursing home. They're nothing to do with you but it's nice just to see them play.

Anyway, where was I? This Horlicks is nice.


No comments: