We have hit the big time this week. I had expected that the ‘feature’ that last week’s photographer spoke of would be a tiny box on page 80, but actually it was a double page spread, mentioned on the front page, with a startlingly large photo of me used to illustrate it. It’s a lesson learned – never again will I bunk off work the day I set a pub quiz. I find it oddly disturbing being surrounded by pictures of myself on my commute home from work and I hope I won’t unexpectedly appear on the front page of London rags too often.

Only Oli and I can make it this week, and normally if only two of us are there it’s an evening of humiliation and despair. Round one lulls us into a false sense of security, though, as we find within ourselves knowledge such as the word both Sean Connery and Johnny Depp have tattooed on themselves (Forever – Scotland and Wino(na) respectively), and the European capital built on 14 islands connected by 55 bridges. As I reminisce about my travels to Stockholm the scores are read out and we are surprised to find ourselves in fourth place.

But round two brings possibly the most spectacular slump in form we’ve ever experienced. We flounder badly on our way to four correct answers out of a possible 14, and we have plummeted down the order to somewhere distressingly close to last. The beer round brings no relief – I mostly watch moderately pretentious subtitled European arthouse films so the fact that all the answers are roles John Hurt has played escapes me. Despite the fact that we only answer one question out of five, Oli and I actually spend a couple of minutes arguing about what to put for the tiebreaker.

Before round three starts we briefly consider whether to do a runner as we’re sure we’re not going to get back into the respectable scores. But we stick around, and luckily so because this round goes slightly better. One answer troubles us, about a classic whose author refuses to let it be performed in schools and dislikes it being referred to as a classic. I am sure I know it and I am staring into the middle distance pondering intensely when I suddenly realise that I’m actually staring at the answer – David the quizmaster is reading out the questions again and his question sheet has intercepted my line of sight. J.D. Salinger’s Catcher In The Rye is the answer, and seeing as we’re doing so badly we think we should accept this small piece of good fortune and decide to, for the want of a better word, cheat. To our horror, when the scores are read out we’ve actually vaulted into second place.

We spend much of round four discussing the morality and ethics of pub quizzes. I am maddened by the sudden scent of victory and I want to win at all costs. Oli is far more honest and says we will have to throw one answer. But there are some great answers and I don’t want to throw any of them – my favourite question asks for the most famous work by fictional artist Basil Hallward. I like it enormously because I work out that it is the portrait of Dorian Gray about a second and a half before we hand the sheet in, and I would have thought it was a rubbish question if I hadn’t worked it out until after that. Despite my deeply dishonest protestations, Oli insists on replacing one correct answer with a wrong one, and we end up in third place, with five pounds each that we feel is just slightly dirty money.

Evil Patrick, to everyone’s outrage, has his number come up yet again for the snowball. “Woohahaha”, he says as he reveals himself from the shadows and steps up to take the question. The question is about a poet known as the Ettrick Shephard. Despite my anger, I still find it within myself to be amused as Oli virtually collapses to the floor in agonies because he knows the answer. Patrick says he knows the answer too and offers a name. “The answer I’ve been offered is…” says Chris, pausing X-factor style. “…is…”. Oli is consumed by grief. “…not the right answer!”, says Chris and quite a few people start clapping. I may have been one of them, I can’t recall for sure. We leave the pub happy if a little bit ethically confused, and vow not to sit so near to the quizmaster next time.