Pub quiz night: a group massage for the wide and shallow mind

You might think this sounds soft but I'm beginning to think pub quiz nights should come with a health warning.

Only six weeks ago I thought there was something a bit quaint about quiz nights. They always struck me as an activity for people who needed excuses to go to the pub and talk to people. Being someone who has never needed an excuse for either, they never really appealed.

However, I have since learnt the error of my ways thanks to Nelson Hospital's Dr Dave Porter. He and I were having a chat at Harry's Bar one night when we got on to a favourite topic of mine movies. I made a reference to a relatively obscure director and Dr Dave's eyes suddenly lit up. He explained that he was a member of a pub quiz team and that they were really good but they didn't know anything about movies.

"Who plays Batman in that latest Batman movie?" he blurted out.

"Christian Bale," I said, genuinely surprised that anyone, let alone a rheumatologist, might not know the answer to such a fundamental question of our time. Then he said: "OK, how about this who plays the lead role in Mr Holland's Opus?

"Richard Dreyfuss," I replied.

Dr Dave became visibly excited and started raving about how I should join his quiz team and how with me on board we would "crush" the competition. Being a fan of Dave's and a sucker for flattery I said I'd love to join them.

A few weeks later I found myself at the House of Ales for its popular Tuesday night quiz. The place was packed but it didn't take long for someone from our team to find me. Each week teams come up with a new name and on that particular night, as a result of international events, we called ourselves The Farrah's Forever. The contest kicked off with a series of Michael Jackson-related visual questions and then it was on to the verbal rounds. Topics ranged from sport and current affairs to entertainment and history.

Nothing unusual about that but what came as a complete surprise was the outrageous competitiveness that suddenly erupted, like the creature in Alien, from within. I had arrived at the pub my normal Tuesday night self a bit tired after hosting the 7am to 9am show on Fresh FM and doing a day's work at The Leader but still reasonably amicable. A few rounds of questions, a few pints of Murphy's Red and a large plate of nachos later, I had gone from friendly, joy-to-the-world, egalitarian Matt to ultra-competitive, take-the-bastards-down, quite probably fascist Matt. It wasn't a pretty sight but, damn, it felt good.

Quiz nights aren't just an opportunity to show others how much useless information you have in your head; they're an excuse for drinking on a school night, stuffing yourself with nachos, hot chips and wedges, and acting intellectually superior because you know that Andrea Corr is the lead singer of the Corrs and others don't.

If, like me, you have a weakness for beer, salt, fat, crowds, competition and showing off, then you might like to think twice about joining a quiz night team. I've only been to two and I'm completely addicted. And the fact that coming first, second or third means money off your tab adds an economic incentive to making paste out of the opposition.

I can't believe it took me so long to discover the joy of quiz nights and how wrong I was about them. I was right about one thing, though. The crowd at the House of Ales doesn't stick around. The moment the placings are announced, most of them are off like their pants are on fire, which, considering how I've felt the mornings after, is probably a good idea.

- © Fairfax NZ News