Ian Price2


 

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BATS BEER AND GALSWORTHY

user image 2009-04-04
By: Ian Price2
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How did Soames die in The Forsyth Saga? A quiz question Ill never forget.In the Rhondda people get up to all kinds of activities to distract themselves from the daily grind. Some play darts. Some play pool. Some become philanderers and some play rugby. In the 1970s in a desperate attempt to get punters to spend their hard earned cash on beer, a number of the local workingmens clubs decided to hold quiz nights. The quality of the quizzes depended on the club; the more intellectually inclined gravitated towards the RAFA, Conservative and Liberal Clubs whilst others chose the Labour and Communist clubs not because the questions were any easier but because the beer was cheaper.One local establishment was called The Comrades and Marxist Club. Its nickname was Smokey Joes after Joseph Stalin the well known Russian philanthropist. There wasnt a single communist member of the club however, but by a quirk of fate the committee realised that if they utilised communist ideals and ploughed all the profits they made back into the club then they could sell beer at about a third of the price you could purchase it anywhere else locally. This made the place extremely popular and with supreme irony it made more money than out and out capitalist ventures.One of the perks of the quiz nights at Smokey's was that they would pay the quiz master in beer checks one quiz would be the equivalent of ten pints of beer. The checks would be valid for a year and so it didnt take a genius to calculate that if you only did five quizzes a year and saved the tokens you could have a backlog of fifty pints to get through. This was quite useful at Christmas time.The punters who took part in the quizzes there tended to be miners who may not have had the greatest range of general knowledge available to them but they were sticklers for procedure and unambiguous answers. And so it was that on one very warm August evening in 1979 yours truly took to the stage as quizmaster. It was to be a memorable night.There were about sixteen teams there that evening - mostly men but with one team of women who were local librarians. Those women were as sharp as tacks when it came to quizzing and were eyed with an all weather suspicion by the regulars. At the back of the hall sat Dai Jenkins and his cronies. Jenkins was the acknowledged master of being argumentative just for the sake of it and would question even established mathematical certainties set down by Euclid and Pythagoras. The rest of the teams were made up of assorted students and members who had been coerced into joining the quiz by committee men.Despite the heat the quiz proceeded along established lines with everyone within a few points of each other. Jenkins team were edging slightly ahead with the ladies side a close second. Beer was being consumed at a rapid pace to keep cool and windows were opened to allow some air to circulate.Sometime into round three a set of almighty shrieks and screams emanated from the ladies team.Everyone was looking perplexed and every man quickly noted there didnt appear to be any reason for this outburst. One of the women then stood up and pointed to the ceiling. Naturally we all looked up and there flapping about around a light fixture was a bat. It had flown into the building through a window behind the women and had tarried awhile around them before launching itself skyward.It was decided for the sake of propriety that the quiz should be suspended the women couldnt concentrate and that the bat would have to be removed. And so it was that five committee men armed with snooker cues and wrangler jackets pursued the bat around the room for forty minutes until it finally escaped through a fanlight.In this time Jenkins had started to formulate a plan that the bat was nothing but a ruse to disrupt his ineluctable procedure to the winners podium. The fact that his team were drinking far too much didnt help his reasoning processes. More to the point as the quiz progressed, the women, who were now composed, were getting closer and closer to winning it. As it happened the final round saw them draw even with Jenkins side and so a tie breaker question had to be asked.In situations like this its normal to ask a question about a date in history or a numerical question where the nearest to the date or amount required wins. For some reason however I asked the question How did the character Soames die in The Forsythe Saga? Was he run down by a bus? Did he have a heart attack? Or did a burning painting fall on his head?The correct answer is a burning painting hit him on the head.The answers were written down and passed on to me. The women answered correctly whilst Jenkins answered that a bus had knocked him down.And so I delivered the result. The ladies were of course delighted and came forward to collect their prize money about 7.50.At the back of the hall however Jenkins went a strange colour and stood up. He pointed an accusatory finger at me and shouted in deadly earnest WAIT A MINUTE! HOW DO WE KNOW IT WASNT A PAINTING OF A BUS THAT KILLED HIM.Bursting into laughter wasnt the best thing I could have done in retrospect I suppose and I remember thinking this at the time as he started towards me. Jenkins was over six foot and built like a brick out house and he meant business. His cronies and the other punters were sitting back and waiting for the inevitable end of evening hammering to ensue when I was saved.By whom? The womens team. They rounded on him like a pack of wolves and started recalling every stupid thing hed done in his life from failing to return library books to GBH. There were a few personal jibes thrown in as well for good measure.It transpired that one of the women was his ex wife, one his sister and the other two had had uncordial dealings with his nonsense in the past.I left shortly after that with a memo to self. Never ask how Soames died in The Forsyth Saga again.