cheap champagne does not help one to get to work on time the next day

So... It's Christmas and my typing skills are limited. It's already been a messy one and I've got to hang around in Forres for a while yet. Hmm. Need to find my phone.

Anyway, we won the quiz again t'other day. We pretty much rock. Alice was our most recent member. I don't think she really got it.

I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to entertain you with any good tales of the night because, frankly, I can't recall any specifics (that word doesn't look right.)

I need a drink.

on an unrelated note...

I've never really liked Australians but my God, I hate those chipper, classless, every-sentence-is-a-question cunts even more than usual right now.

And I'm not even English.

if shakespeare and chaucer somehow had a lovechild, it couldn't come up with the words...

Victory!!!!















That's right. We've only gone and done it. First place. Winners. Gods amongst men. To be fair, they didn't really stand a chance when faced with what must surely now be known as the Axis of ALL Evil. The Dream Team. The Ultimate Six. Team Awesome. I could go on...

I WILL go on. We fucking rock! Love our work. We're so hot right now. A page full of amazings wouldn't suffice. I've never felt so blessed. Actually, sod that, we weren't blessed; we did it all ourselves. I'm not sharing any of the credit. It was a performance to be written into history. They think the Bible is the greatest story ever told?! Pah!

All these weeks of slogging away with the also-rans has finally paid off. I'm sorry to baffle you with statistics but I think it's worth appreciating that our placings in the last four weeks have gone from fourth, through third, up to second (we really need to drink that beer soon) and finally, finally, FIRST. Drink it in. Five letters, one result. First.

Bwahahahahahahahahaaaaa!!!

I think we need a quick rundown of the details of our achievement so that those who weren't there can truly appreciate all the facets of our greatness. For there are many. I suppose you could say that our greatness is multi-faceted. See what I did there?

First up was, as ever, the current-affairs-told-through-the-voices-of-those-who-are-in-the-news-on-whatever-radio-station-Dave-listens-to round. A personal favourite I'm happy to admit. It's always nice to begin strongly and if it hadn't been for Les Reed we would have been off to a perfect start, despite some crazy dissent from Iano who, despite claiming to be the World's Biggest Aberdeen Fan, failed to fully recognise the sweet tones of one-time Don and general radge, Sir Alex Ferguson. Shame on you Ians. One team did know the frankly horrible christian name of the new Charlton manager, so we found ourselves in second place, with only a point in it.

Now I have to give our quizmaster, Dave, some credit and general congratulations for never failing to make the second round interesting. It always varies week-to-week and I'd have to say that he manages to be very inclusive of all players in his selection of questions. We've had celebrity piffle-paffle (loved it). We've had other stuff (see previous posts; I can't be bothered). But tonight it was to be... Latin. Not the most exciting of rounds some might think, with the potential to be rather difficult for a team of twenty-somethings. However, our team is lucky enough to have been educated at some of the finest schools in the country (props to Forres Academy) so we were nothing if not confident.

In amongst the obvious side-of-coin inscriptions and Roman nonsense appeared the frankly frightening revelation that Marlboro's motto is Veni, Vidi, Vici. Scarily true, especially amongst the white middle classes. Good to see Sof sticking with the Bennies. She was always close to the proletariat... Anyway, thanks to a little outside help with the mottos of some Premiership teams - which we did, in fairness, identify ourselves - and some educated guesses, we found ourselves three points clear (!) at the end of the round. It was getting exciting. Not to mention fucking nerve-wracking.

Three points might seem like a comfortable lead but if there was one thing that could ruin it for us it was the next round. The music round. Regular readers of my productivity-destroying rants will be aware that we're not great fans of the music round. Mostly because we're shit at it. We've thrown away many a quiz in this round and to be honest, we expect to do the same every week. Let's see how we did...

Thankfully Samin had had the good sense last week to pester Dave into revealing the general theme for this week's round. Walking and running. A lot of scope there for some great tunes (the Straits leap immediately to mind) so it didn't sound bad. Some prep was done by Sam but to be honest, I think we would've done pretty well without it. With it, we got full points. That's right! In the music! Awesome... I think it's worth mentioning that we'd heard barely a note of Craiiiig David's Walking Away before Sam was frantically scribbling down the answer. His shameful love of boy bands and cheesy crooners (which I share) was finally paying off. I won't bore you with all the details but amongst our in-seat boogying to the aforementioned Straits and the Doobie Brothers (we've got all the moves) we manged the faultless round.

We were now four points clear. A magnificent margin indeed.

Cue lots of chain smoking and drink guzzling as we awaited the handout for the final picture round. We knew we were in a strong position but it would only take some difficult pictures and/or some stupid mistakes to throw it all away. We've done it before and tasted the pain. It's not good.

All fears were soon swept aside upon the realisation that were to be asked to identify... logos. Oh, the sweet joy for a table full of capitalist whores. Depsite the inclusion of the Daewoo logo (who's going to lust after that particular brand?) and the majority's incorrect insistence that Maclaren were actually schoolboy's favourite Head (they definitely made the best boot bags), we basically nailed it. Trickier were the four or five island outlines which had been randomly included at the top of the sheet. And their capitals. I'm not sure if I've ever seen a BBC correspondent reporting from the streets of Greenland or Madagascar so I'm fucked if we were going to get their capitals. Happy with what we'd done we handed the sheet back and waited.

I'd say we were 99% confident of victory at this stage but we'd been burnt before. We couldn't allow ourselves to rejoice until the points countdown to follow. As Dave mocked the lower places (thoroughly deserved) and worked his way up to the big players, we'd still heard no mention of the Axis. The places ticked by. Fourth: nope. Third: nope. Second... No! "And this week's winners are the frankly awesome and amazing [I may be paraphrasing] Axiiiiiis offff Eeeevil!!"

Woooooooohooooooooo!!!!

Do you think we were happy? Can you tell..?
















Remeber those faces. You're gazing upon greatness. The dude in the middle's Dave. The rest are the Axis. Good looking bunch.

Well, we've finally done it. There's been a lot of heartache and some great times, but we stuck it out and it's all paid off. Although we now have the pressure of returning next week as defending champions. There are going to be a lot of teams out there desperate to steal our crown but they'll be in for a fight, that's for sure. Until then, we can bask in the glory and congratulate ourselves on some great work (as if I haven't done that enough already...)

Here's to the Axis and continued success...

can free beer be as exciting as eternal glory?

Almost!

Last week (I've been busy...) witnessed a record placing for the Glorious Axis. For those of you haven't been following our fortunes on a weekly basis (shame on you) that's second. Yup, the first loser. Still if being a loser involves free beer then I guess I'm a loser. No, hang on...

Anyway.

As there are preparations to be made for tonight's statistically likely victory, this will be a very short entry. Last week's most notable occurrence (other than our near victory - two points!) was the appearance of Samin's father, Alan. This is him:



















Nice chap. Bought a couple of rounds of drinks. Not really as grumpy as he looks. I think he got a question right. Don't remember which one. He seemed impressed with my Nancy Pelosi knowledge.

Enough about Alan.

Oh, we also very nearly aced (47 from 48) the film picture round.

Anyway, long story short, we came second. Tonight we expect to win. I'll be back in touch tomorrow with the news.

quote of the evening

"I want to be the bridesmaid for once"

Don't know what Iano/Yarno (I go with the former but the man himself insists on the latter. Not your choice, IANO) was thinking, but there it is.

"we're never going to win this fucking quiz" - sofie

Where to start?

Don't be fooled by the picture. You're looking at six of the most dejected people in west London. We may look young and carefree but we've lived our lives. And it hasn't always been easy. Those bright, shining eyes have witnessed some terrible things. Like continuous, soul-destroying, never ending defeat. Sob.

It had all started so promisingly. The one person with the potential to be unemployed for even longer than Rai had put his long, empty days to good use and provided us with a fine selection of athletic prowess in the form of the world's premier darts and snooker players. What Michaelangelo would have made of Andy 'The Viking' Fordham is anyone's guess but judging by his virile beard I'm guessing he's packing somewhat more than David was. Sorry for that image.

Before facing what might just be may favourite round yet we had to deal with our bread and butter - the identify-the-voices-what-Dave-has-recorded-off-the-radio round. Largely thanks to Samin, we usually ace this round. For that very reason, I'm holding him totally, and legally, responsible for our failings yesterday. I knew it was Clint Eastwood but I was too weak to speak up. Samin's fault again. Don't ask why; it just is. And why do all struggling, bottom-of-the-league football managers sound the same? Why Samin, why?

Incapable as I am of recalling which round came next, I'm going to guess it was current affairs. I can't really remember how well we did at this. Nor can I enliven this paragraph with wit. So I'll move on. How the fuck did we do?! I honestly can't remember. Answers on a post card please.

It must be music next. I hate that round and what I do remember is that I deemed it a perfect opportunity to go to the loo without endangering the team's success. Normally they can't do without me but when it comes to the music round I'm about as much use as that kid who has to wear a helmet to school and has the awesome velcro shoes. I miss velcro shoes.

I don't know what we'd done to appease the universe yesterday but somehow we did fucking amazingly in the music round. We barely dropped a point. Could have something to do with the food and drink theme... Food: good. Drink: good. Food and drink: gooood. Probably a good time to mention that Sofie's macaroni cheese wasn't nearly cheesy enough. Could explain the dejection:














At this point we were in second place, with darts, snooker and WAGs to finish. How could we fail? We'd fucking invented this round. We'd spent the week nerding up on it. We were ready.

Dave though, not happy with the perfect picture round, had decided to throw in three of the most random boxers in the history of, well, boxing. The shitbag. That reminds me; Dave was hammered last night, but for a very good reason. This post is dedicated to the memory of Johno.

Anyway, we nailed the dart-chuckers, missed one old school snookerer, came all over the WAGs (figuratively speaking) but were thrown by the fucking boxers! They were never part of our plan!

It was going to be close but we could be confident of at least second place.

After a nailbiting points roundup we were presented with our prize. Third?! We were destroyed. I think this best sums it up:














I, for one, couldn't believe it. Fucking third?! We may have clawed our way up to the lowest tier on the podium but we all felt we deserved better. I will, however, give props to the winners, Quizbollah, who have an awesome name so I really can't hate them. Much.

I guess to go from fourth to third in a week would mean that we're going to win the thing in a fortnight, and we should be pleased with ourselves. Not so. I'm fucking fed up of not being the best in the room (I have issues I'm not even going to get into) and it's about time for us to hit the top.

We will. Honest Sofie, we will.

axis collapses under shock of leading

The ever expanding Axis once more failed to live up to what is generally agreed to be great potential. Excellent work from two new additions to the faithful simply wasn't enough to overcome what is becoming an embarrassing aversion to the music round.

With everyone sporting various combinations of stripy scarves and new winter coats the team were, if nothing else, impeccably turned out. There really is nothing quite like soft, new wool for transporting the fragrance of pub back to the home.

Showing up for the first time were Ewan (no relation to Darren), invited for his apparent knowledge of house tunes, and surprise attendee Abby, who would later prove useful in what was, embarrassingly, to be the Axis's strongest round - celebrity piffle-paffle.

Despite some rainforest-destroying printouts (we use only the finest mahogany in my office's printers), little use was found for our 400-odd food-related tunes and the complete history of house music. Another example of some cruel red herrings from the evening's sharp-tongued conductor, Dave. Preparation is clearly not a guarantee of success. Damn those Boy Scouts and their lies...

The Axis were, as ever, well versed on the week's affairs and got off to a strong start in round one, dropping only one point on an unfamiliar Australian accent (they all sound the same: annoying.)

Buoyed on by this early success, the team were offered the choice of low brow or high brow for the following round. We made the right choice. Up stepped the yet-to-be-turned-cynical debutante, Abby, with the frankly shocking revelation that kebab-flashing retard Jade Goody somehow got herself voted best beach body in a recent poll. While others were still reeling in disgusted surprise, she continued with some more excellent calls and undoubtably helped the Axis ace the round, equalled only by the nextdoor table's impressive geographical knowledge (they went high brow...)

The Axis were now leading by two full points.

Once the cheers had died down and the admiring gazes averted, the Axis were soon brought back down to earth by the announcement of ... the music round. Balls. A surprisingly successful round wasn't enough to keep the lead for the Axis. It should, perhaps, have been known that it was Darius (lanky, goateed twat that he is) and not Will Young who penned Colour Blind, but the exclusion of that schoolboy error wouldn't have been enough to prevent what I hate to admit is an inevitable slide in the rankings following this most evil of rounds.

Facing a four point deficit going into the final round the Axis were still positive, especially considering the effort your author had put into preparing portraits of our nation's glorious rulers. Again, short-wearing boy-fiddler Baden-Powell's mantra proved to be misplaced. There were some glaring errors in this round which cannot, for legal reasons, be discussed, pending a satisfactory settlement of the issue, hopefully out of court in the form of a free round of drinks.

The Axis were fourth, forced once more to grovel in the mud at the foot of the podium.

Disgust and self-loathing prevents me from continuing.

Bring on the darts, snooker and WAGs.

full strength axis fail to impress

Last night, in an undisclosed West London pub, six beautiful young people gathered in celebration of their wit and a shared love of drink. They came from far corners of their neighbourhood, keeping to the shadows in the darkening night, flinching at the sound of nearby sirens.

One by one they took their places at their table, exchanged greetings and knowing glances, got the drinks in and prepared themselves.

The Axis of Evil were ready.

The quiz, however, was running late, so they had to wait a little longer.

Nerves were fraying, drinks disappearing too rapidly (Sof...) and non-smoking resolutions disregarded. This was it. The first time a full strength Axis of Evil had gathered to take on the might of such big hitters as Team Name (regular winners but clearly misguided in their belief that they had conjured up a decent name for themselves) and A Gathering Storm (a little older and less attractive than our Beloved Axis but dangerous nonetheless).

Despite a strong start, the Axis's ignorance of mediocre 80s hits led to their eventual downfall. Not even an inspired knowledge by Daws of the Tories' proposed tax cuts could save them. They limped into fourth place.

It wasn't to be.

Dejected, but not cowed, the Axis will return. A regime change may be considered, with certain members vulnerable to a potential coup by anyone with a decent music knowledge. However, the core remains and the Axis are determined to conquer.

This is only the beginning.