Out of the Question by David Silver

"Who broke it?" 

"Broke what?" queried Reg. 

"The silence," said our quiz team captain Roger. "Who broke the silence by answering that final contest question with a typically daft answer?" 

"That was you, Roger," said Reg. 

"I know it was me," snapped Roger. "All I'm saying is that we should all keep our mouths shut from now on instead of compounding our ruinous reputation." 

Roger was right in a way. Our team were a laughing stock in the quiz league. We would possibly have earned a smidgen of respect by maintaining a dignified silence. But everything had gone wrong from the start. 

Whatever the subject, the lads invariably gave lousy answers. Not only that, the wrong responses were cloaked in a mantle of stupidity. 

Our replies to questions were forged in the fires of foolishness and hammered into poor shape on the anvil of ineptitude. 

Word soon got round about our awfulness. Our team -- Roger, Reg, Ziggy and me -- built up a following of sadistic supporters who loved nothing more than to guffaw at our lamentable efforts until their thighs became sore from constant slapping. 

Ours was no longer just a poor quiz team. We had assumed the dubious status of a hopeless cabaret act -- a quartet of comedians whose knowledge of general knowledge was nil. 

The decision had to be made. The team would disband at the season's end. And so it came to pass. We went our separate ways and never saw each other again. Which is not quite true. I saw our former captain Roger on a television quiz show. 

He had to correctly answer his first question to stay in the contest. Question: What is the world's largest mammal? Answer: A pregnant elephant. 

Roger and out.

Published in Issue #15

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