
“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”
Harry nodded and Muriel sat down unheeded, placing a pint of beer in front of him. “I hope you don’t mind but, it’s really heavy isn’t it, a pint of beer? If you don’t take it I’ll have to pour it in the spittoon.”
He wanted to smile but he found himself pouting like a toddler and he had no idea of how to stop. “I saved you the seat last week,” he said, “but you didn’t come.”
“I know,” she said. “And I’m sorry. I couldn’t call you because I don’t have your number. I phoned the pub…”
“Really? Who did you speak to?”
“I’m not sure. She said she was too busy to act as your unpaid answering service, especially on quiz night, and hung up. I presumed she’d let you know when she wasn’t so busy…”
“I left early – straight after the round on Soul music – this is the first time I’ve been in since.” Harry moved his empty glass from the beer mat and having taken a sip, put his new pint in its place. “It might have been better in the spittoon,” he said.
“Isn’t that what you normally drink? I’m sorry, I thought it was… Shall I?…”
“It is what I normally drink,” he said. “It’s always horrible. I don’t know what they do with it.”
“Why don’t you drink something else?” she asked.
“I like it,” he answered, looking puzzled. “And what kind of pub do you think has a spittoon these days?”
“I thought they all had them.”
“I think something might have misled you. Is there a John Wayne season on the iPlayer or something?”
“I don’t really come into pubs very much. They’re not easy places to be in when you’re on your own.”
“They’re about the only places I do go in on my own.”
“So when you say you haven’t been in here since last week?”
“I’ve been sat in front of the telly, eating frozen meals for one and generally pondering my navel.”
“And did you reach any conclusions?”
“I need to get out more.”
“Good. Where shall we go?”
Harry picked up on the you/we transition immediately, but all in all he thought it best not to mention it. She might change her mind. “I don’t know,” he said. “I never really go anywhere.”
“What about the seaside?” she answered. “You can’t go wrong with the seaside can you? Do you have a bus pass? We could go on the bus.”
“It’s years since I’ve been to the seaside,” said Harry. “So many people and so noisy… I’m not sure.”
“It’s not all ‘kiss me quick,’” said Muriel, suddenly nervously twisting the stem of her wine glass. “There are plenty of quiet beaches. We could just walk, take a picnic maybe, or buy fish and chips.”
Harry fiddled with the wedding ring he had moved onto his right hand over five years ago and gave the impression of deep consideration. “Why not,” he said at last. “Yes, I’d like that. If we win this quiz, the prize will pay for the chips.”
“Better get the form then…”
Harry returned with two glasses, one of wine and one of beer, two packets of crisps (one plain, one salt & vinegar), two packets of salted peanuts, two packets of pork scratching and a cheese and onion sandwich that looked as though its best days may have been before the Crimean War. He placed them on the table in front of Muriel. “I wasn’t sure,” he said, “which you might fancy.”
“I’m not certain that anyone should eat that sandwich,” she said. “I’m pretty sure that the cheese wasn’t blue when it went into it. Perhaps you could go and put it somewhere where it can rot in peace.” Harry departed with the offending butty, returning without it seconds later. “Landlord took it back,” he said. “Put it in the dart team’s buffet.”
“They don’t play until Wednesday,” said Muriel.
“He doesn’t like waste,” said Harry. “He’s got steak pies in the warmer that lived through Brexit.”
Muriel looked at the smorgasbord on the table. “Shall we share a packet of ready salted?” she asked. “The one that’s still in date?”
Harry smiled agreement and sipped his beer as he lowered himself into the chair. “I registered us as The Analogue Kids,” he said.
“That’s good,” smiled Muriel, testing an over-large crisp on her front teeth. “No-one will know who we are. If we lose we won’t be humiliated and if we win, we won’t get mugged on the way home.”
“For twenty quid?”
“Harry, where I live, they’ll mug you for twenty pence. Well, they don’t need the money actually: they’ll mug you just for the fun of it.”
“Bloody hell, are you ok going home?”
“Oh yes, the bus stop is right outside my door and the bus driver always waits until I’m in.”
“That’s good of him.”
“Her. I pay her with humbugs. It’s a long night for her and her breath smells like she’s swallowed a dead fox by then.”
“Right… well, there’s two teams of students in tonight and one team of dons, not to mention the extremely uncomfortable middle-class foursome over near the window who have somebody outside with a mobile phone giving them answers when they think that nobody’s looking, so I definitely wouldn’t go spending the prize money just yet.”
“Is there nobody ‘normal’ doing the quiz?”
“Lots of them. Half a dozen ‘normal’ teams doing the quiz, but absolutely none of them winning it.”
“But you still think that you can win it.”
Harry allowed himself the slightest of smiles. “We,” he said. “I think that we can win it. We did ok last time until they had the round on Social Media Influencers.”
“Derren Brown seemed like a perfectly logical answer to me.”
“To all ten questions, yes… Anyway, if I have a good day today, yes, I think we can win it. If you have a good day, I think we can win it and if we both have a good day then nobody will stop us. The fish and chips are as good as ours.”
“But what about the team of dons?”
“No problem with them. Away with the fairies, all of them. They’ll do well in the Classical Greek and Philosophy rounds of course.”
“Are there really…?” Muriel stopped short, warned by the amusement in his eyes. “I suppose you think that’s funny don’t you?”
“Well,” he grinned. “It is a bit.”
“Misplaced I’d say,” she pouted.
“Like a spittoon in the lounge bar,” he said.
I hope you’ll forgive me. I enjoyed these two so much last week that I felt I had to give them a second episode today. Unless everyone hates them, they will appear again I think.




