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From Worldtraveller

Semi final

Under pressure

Buckinghamshire's favourite son

We stared disaster in the face in this round. Manchester had done quite well in previous rounds - in both the first and second rounds they were the only team to score more than us. But their performances were largely a one man effort, whereas ours had come as a result of team-wide ability. At this stage of the series, we expected a challenge, and we certainly got it.

Manchester started strongly, reaching 50 points before we'd got off zero. But then Oli got us off the mark, giving the Stanford Prison Experiment as the inspiration for the 2002 German film, Das Experiment. We pulled back to within five points, before Manchester had another good run and led us by 110 points to 60 at the half way stage. Again the advantage shifted our way, and I brought us level by being the first person to work out that 'grub' was the word implied by the series of definitions Paxman was reading out. It was 115 points each.

A close shave

Manchester then got the next two starters right, we were losing by 170-125 and things looked bleak. "Four minutes to go", said Paxman. Surely UCL couldn't let down their faithful supporters? Not at this stage of the game? We rallied, and after pulling back a starter and getting some bonuses right we were back within touching distance. A couple of minutes to go, and we were just 5 points behind. With the word 'Caret', Ivan took us into the lead by five, and then we heard the words no team wants to hear at this stage, "Your bonuses are on English translations of German novel titles". We were required to give both the English title and the author, from a German novel title. First up was a Kafka, not too hard. Next was one that Oli knew, and as the pressure got to us, Pete eschewed the usual "Nominate Usher", preferring instead to shout "Oli! Oli can say it!". And then Ivan knew the last one, and didn't even wait to be nominated. We'd got three out of three, and we were 20 points ahead.

With just seconds to go, the score was 190-170, but disaster struck again as I buzzed in incorrectly, offering 'TNT' where I should have said 'Cordite'. Manchester got it, shouting the answer over the voiceover in their haste, and the gap was down to ten points. If they got their bonuses right it was all over. They didn't get the first one, but got the second to close to within five points. As they thought about the third one then gong went. We'd done it - we were in the final.

Wreckage

The match had taken its toll. I was on an adrenaline high, but my teammates were physical wrecks. Oli was exhibiting terrible sweat patches, Pete could hardly talk coherently, and Ivan was on the point of collapsing to the floor in some kind of trembling fit. Would we recover in time for the final, just a couple of hours later?

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