WHEN playing Trivial Pursuit, it’s important to remember: it’s not the winning that counts, but the rubbing it in.
I couldn’t help feel a stab of satisfaction, then, at the news that a global men versus women contest of the world’s favourite quiz game this week resulted in victory for the fairer sex.
The makers of Trivial Pursuit organised an online version that took place worldwide, in nine languages, lasted for five months and saw 15,121,731 questions answered. Women got 4,088,139 right, compared with 4,077,596 for the men. An unequivocal victory, I’d say.
Nevertheless, you can almost hear the collective protestations everywhere from Stockholm to Abu Dhabi: “Well, of course they won – all our questions were about sub-atomic particles and their role in the dynamics of quantum mechanics. They only had to name the dog in EastEnders.”
I should stress that, normally, I’d be the last person to advocate immature and potentially divisive gender rivalry – but I’m happy to make an exception in this case.
Because anyone who’s ever engaged in a Girls v Boys round of Trivial Pursuit over the festive season will know how effective it is at unleashing your inner child. Or, rather, allowing your inner child to escape and launch into a frenzied tantrum that would give Jo Frost heart failure.
I’m not sure what it is about Trivial Pursuit that ignites the competitive streak of even the most laid-back individuals. Perhaps it’s that you only usually play at Christmas, when tolerance levels are at a spectacular low and Grandma has excavated various dubious spirits from the back of the drinks cabinet that have been fermenting since last year.
Plus, by dividing the teams on gender grounds, you’re asking for trouble. Men, in my experience, take these things very seriously. When it’s their turn to ask a question, it’s read with an austere air of gravity, you must answer within a carefully-monitored time slot and conferring should be kept to a minimum.
Dare to check on the canapés or top up someone’s drink while your team’s supposed to be working out the year Picasso died and a Paxman-esque “I’m sorry, I’ll have to rush you” will be flung in your direction.
When the tables are turned, it’s a different story. God help you if they get a “Sports and Leisure” question. They’ll be conferring loudly about some obscure rule of golf long enough for you to have completed three rounds of Pictionary and cracked open the Monopoly.
I’m not saying we women are entirely virtuous. I know female team members, who shall remain nameless, who dispute the painstakingly-researched answers on the cards – on the grounds that contradictory information was mentioned by Coleen Nolan on an episode of Loose Women three months earlier.
Still, the one thing you can’t dispute about Trivial Pursuit is that it forces you to make time for your family in ways you otherwise wouldn’t. And, if it sometimes comes close to resulting in GBH, then that’s a risk you just have to take.
JANE COSTELLO is the Liverpool-based author of best-selling novels Bridesmaids and The Nearly Weds. Her next book, My Single Friend, is published by Pocket Books in April.
