Gervase Phinn: The weakest link...

Anne Robinson: In English literary relationships, Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, who wrote Frankenstein, married the poet Percy who?

Contestant: Thrower.

Anne Robinson: The film starring Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers was called Flying Down to …. Where?

Contestant: Halifax.

Anne Robinson: What "X" is the fear of foreigners?

Contestant: The X-Factor.

I would hate to be up there in the glare of the lights, facing that virago with thousands watching me.

I hate quizzes. When the family gather around the table on Christmas Day for the ritual game of Trivial Pursuit I skulk away to my study. I am pleased to be away from it all.

My aversion to quizzes stems from when I was a teacher and I represented my school house at the annual Inter-House Quiz. Four housemasters sat on stage in front of the entire school to answer general knowledge questions put to us by the Head of the Lower School. It afforded the quizmaster the perfect opportunity to get his revenge for a trick I had played upon him.

Some weeks earlier, I had amused myself with what I thought was a harmless prank. Each Friday lunchtime, the Head of the Lower School and three male colleagues would ensconce themselves in the corner of the staffroom to play Bridge. The four took the game extremely seriously and would discuss in detail the strategies and outcomes. These post mortems were extremely tedious to have to listen to, so when the fire alarm sounded one Friday lunchtime and we all had to vacate the school, I remained behind in the empty staff room with just enough time for me to swap a few of the cards around. When the game was resumed, the arguments that arose very nearly ended in violence so I had the good grace to own up to what I had done. The four players were not best pleased.

The Head of the Lower School bided his time until he could get his own back. That time was when the Inter-House Quiz took place. I sat on the stage in front of the entire school ready and reasonably confident to field the questions.

"Question one, for the first housemaster," said the

quizmaster, "is, 'What is the national flower or plant of England?''' "The rose," came the answer.

"Question one for the second housemaster is 'What is the national flower or plant of Scotland?''' "The thistle," came the answer.

"Question one for the third housemaster is 'What is the national flower or plant of Wales?''' "The leek."

Then it came to my turn. I had the word "shamrock" on the tip of my tongue.

"Question one for the fourth housemaster is 'What is the national flower or plant of South Africa?''' "What?" I spluttered. "Answer the question, Mr Phinn," the Head of the Lower School told me. "I've not the slightest idea," I replied. "It's the Giant or King Protea," said the quizmaster before adding, "I thought everyone knew that."

There followed further humiliation as all the questions directed at the other contestants were pitifully easy and mine incredibly hard.

The next day I was teaching the very bottom form in the fifth year. As I approached one of my pupils, he

tut-tutted and remarked, "I see now, sir, why you teach us."

"Why is that, John?" I asked. "Why you're as thick as we are, aren't you?" the boy replied.

YP MAG 10/4/10