I am on an email list for the author and TV presenter, Richard Osman (I don’t quite know how!)
Every so often he sends a quiz, and he just has, with the comment:
“It is, of course, absolutely exclusive to the subscribers of this newsletter, but if you know someone who’d enjoy it, then feel free to pass it along. What’s mine is yours. But there will be no answers until the next newsletter! So stay tuned.”
So, knowing how some of you like a quiz, I pass it on…
(I did find them all, but it took a while)
A Tale of Sixty Cities
By Richard Osman
Here’s an exclusive murder mystery story for you, but with a twist. Hidden in the text are the names of 14 British cities and 46 other cities from around the world. So 60 in all. Write them down on a scorecard if found. Some are smuggled across two or three words (for example, I just inexpertly hid ‘Cardiff’ in ‘scorecard if found’, though that doesn’t count as one of your answers). They are all at least 4 letters long, (sorry ‘Ely’) and all are cities (so no ‘Battle’ for example). They will all be cities you have heard of, but –warning – this is not easy, even though all the answers are written down in front of you…
Mabel eyes Carl from her table directly across the room. Every year his team wins the village Christmas Quiz, so Carl will be hoping for as normal a game as possible, pulling away, round by round, ever so slowly, until the quiz is won and, success ensured. He can then go home and watch Star Wars, a winner’s medal safely in his hand. In his car, a case awaits the trophy.
Not this year though, thinks Mabel, not this year. This year, Mabel has a surprise for him. Carl thinks he can rely on his general knowledge? No. A very different challenge awaits him this year. Perhaps Mabel can pull off an under-the-radar win? Perhaps. But if not, only Carl’s death ensures that Mabel can win the quiz. Therefore, if he is leading going into the final round, Carl must die. Last year Carl had called Mabel a bimbo. Big mistake.
The quiz is always a serious affair, played in a climate of extreme competitiveness. People come from all over the town to play at the village hall. So Fiats and Fords and even the odd Ferrari fill the car park. It’s become so big, one day they are going to have to hire out a bar instead.
Everyone is here for different reasons. Some have an amazing grip on general knowledge, though a good number never answer a single question. Some love to cause a hullabaloo about contested answers, while some are here to simply mouth incorrect answers to opposing teams. It is, admittedly, an older crowd, the kids staying at home to play Nintendo and watch Tik-Tok. (Youth are so predictable.) There are so many teams willing to give the whole ordeal a go (some are less motivated, every year Brigadier Watkins has a nap). Lesley and Ronald Smith are a formidable team: Lesley knows her music and turns to Ron to answer all the sports questions. Even the local Alpaca Pet Owners Club has a team. The Mayor, Keith, is only here for the drink, though he sees it as raising village spirits rather than over-indulging. There is also a supper, that the local WI arranges.
The action begins, the questions coming thick and fast. ‘Which musical number links Carousel and Gerry & The Pacemakers?’ ‘Who stars as Ivan Drago in Rocky IV?’ ‘How many shots under-par is an albatross?’ ‘Pashtun is the primary language of which country?’
Mabel fast becomes drunk as she sees Carl is leading the quiz all too easily. It is, to be frank, a rather embarrassing situation for the other teams. Mabel feels like an ignoramus. Catching Carl is going to be impossible. As she had known, in her heart, it would be.
Mabel watches, terrified, as his team pulls further and further ahead, drawing annoyed stares from everyone. She knows she must commit the murder by the start of the final round. She must focus totally. Only murder on her mind, an ice-blood running through her veins, thicker than oil.
Mabel looks at the knife in her bag. She has practised with it, a rehearsal for death.
There is a pause before the final round, as scores are totted up. For everyone else, just a normal moment, but for Mabel, it is the moment of truth.
The arrogant Carl has had this coming for a long time. Educated at Hallam Uni, chummy with the great and good of the village, he’s semi-landed gentry for goodness’ sake. Whereas Mabel is a simple shopkeeper, her husband a groom on a country estate.
From the corner of her eye, she sees Carl visit the toilet. She follows with the knife, ready to take a wild stab at him. Perhaps she should enter the room in ski mask and gloves? But, no, Carl will be the only witness, and no-one will ever suspect Mabel, will ever believe that the softly spoken shopkeeper is not at all innocent.
But what’s this? Just as Mabel draws her knife, ready for a battle, she notices that Carl is on his phone, Googling answers to the round they’ve just played on The Archers.
‘I think you’ll find the answer is c) Ambridge,’ says Mabel ‘You lousy cheat.’
Carl looks up, knowing he has been caught. The blood drains from his face, giving it a paler, mottled look. A look of death, without Mabel ever having to use the knife.
Mabel laughs. ‘To think you once called me a bimbo! Got a nerve, haven’t you Carl?’
‘Please,’ pleads Carl, with a manic air of desperation. ‘Don’t tell them I cheated. My reputation! I’m innocent! I am, I am, I am.’
Mabel gives a derisive snort. ‘I ran a pub quiz once, and everyone knows a quiz cheat is the worst kind of cheat. You’re finished in this village.’
Mabel puts her knife away, there will be no murder today. She has been saved the effort. Worthless fool that Carl is, he has sealed his own fate. She is relieved. In her heart she is no maniac, crazed with bloodlust.
Carl, the former quiz supremo, scowls and then starts to weep. He knows his poor sportsmanship is a crime that will never be forgiven.
No, Carl will not bleed slowly to death this evening, but he will be banned from the village Christmas quiz for life, and Carl and Mabel both know that is a fate worse than death.
