Not that we're competitive

The crèche my children attended holds a Trivia Night as its annual fundraiser, and my table has always performed pretty well. Well, I say my table because I seemed to be the public face of it, but in fact our success was largely due to the talents of Astrid, the queen of pop culture. We either won, or got edged out to second place by a miserly point. Up until last year that is, when we were crushed to find we'd only come third. To add insult to injury, the people who came second were overheard gloating that it didn't matter that they hadn't won as long as they'd beat Caroline's table. Hmph.

We absolutely couldn't let that lowly third place be our last recorded effort, so despite being ex-creche parents we decided to have another crack at the title. Sadly this year I could only rustle up half a table, with my trivia stalwart buddies Astrid, Nell, Elda and Lucy. But as luck would have it we'd been put with another half-table who had some complementary trivial knowledge to ours. In that they knew serious stuff like the Minister for Water. But once more, the magnificent Astrid steered us home to a stunning victory, shouldering most of the responsibility for our impressive score of 49 out of 50, while the rest of us helped where we could. I know you want to know what we got wrong, everyone else asked, so I'll tell you: it was the speed limit within the Nutbush City Limits. We said there wasn't one.

Anyway, a good night was had by all, the crèche looks set to have raised a record-breaking amount and our reputations were restored. Here we are, the inaugural happy winners of the Carmel Cup.

Hangovers don't hurt as much when you get them on the winning table.