I’m not much of a one for quiz nights. Not that I’ve been to many. But the one that takes place on a Tuesday night at the R bar at 49 Cuba Street is “a bit more of an event than just a quiz,” as I am assured by Louis Tait, co-creator and MC of Quiz-A-Me-Timbers.  

I’d already got wind of that from the dark passageway leading to a basement bar – a passageway lined with scenes and props redolent of pirates, high seas, and attendant dangers. Even the stage, squashed in to one end of the bar, is in the form of a boat.

The attendees – not an eyepatch or a pegleg in sight – are turning up. I’m invited to join a team and get a ping pong ball as a sign of approval. I’d noticed the piano accordion and now the show’s co-creator Vorn Colgan accompanies us in a rousing nautical chorus.

I’ve always prided myself on my linguistic awareness and talents. But a few minutes into Quiz-A-Me-Timbers and I’m not so sure. The first ten questions involve answers beginning with “c”. I’m lucky to guess two of them. Then we’re into a round of charades for which the answer is a place name. I’m bemused into silence. I’m even more bemused by the speed at which my competitors produce correct replies.  

I use the break to ask some of them which part of the mind they’re using. “You just have to think you’re clever,” I’m informed. “The part of the brain I don’t normally use,” says another. “The part that takes over when I’ve had three of these,” says his friend, indicating a glass of beer. Or is it rum? I check with the girl behind the bar – she didn’t get any of the answers either. But then it’s only her first night. I ask Louis how long it takes to come up with the sort of imaginative stuff I’m hearing. He’s airily modest.

Round four requires us to give not the right answer but the best one. This is more like it. “If a cat had thumbs, what would it text you?”

Ribaldry predominates in the last rounds. But it’s clever. And the evening concludes with an accordion karaoke battle, easily won by the team with the loudest praise of reggae.

I get to throw my ping pong ball. I miss of course – despite aiming it with all the enthusiasm and enjoyment I got from such a novel, lively and slightly risqué couple of hours. 

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