The Rake’s Progress by Dorothy Snelson

‘He’s a sore loser’ I said . 

‘That’s no excuse for a tantrum . At this rate we’ll be barred from the Pub Quiz League. I’m going to have a word. If he kicks off again, that’s it.’ 

There wasn’t much I could say. Gordon could be a bit pompous and took his captaincy seriously. Between him pontificating, and Nigel throwing a wobbler every time we lost, I was beginning to wonder if I should bow out of the team. It was supposed to be a fun thing. A bit of relaxation after work. A time for a laugh and a few drinks. I know that Steph, our other team mate, felt like me. She’d said as much at break yesterday. Gordon and Nigel were too competitive, and the quizzes were no longer fun. 

The problem solved itself , when Nigel took himself off to a rival team, with the explanation that he thought our team had ‘lost its mojo!’ Well we might have lost both our mojo and Nigel, but we gained Albert, an uncle of Steph’s with a brain like a computer, who was keen to join us. 

Armed with our secret weapon ,we were ready for the next contest at the Dog and Pheasant. Nigel’s new team ‘The Rake’s Progress’ would be there too. 

Nigel strode across , looking disparagingly at Uncle Albert, who was well into his eighties. ‘Who’s this then?’ he said, nodding in the direction of Albert. 

‘Uncle Albert’ Steph said. ‘Our secret weapon.’ 

Nigel’s snigger said everything. 

‘Good luck’ he threw over his shoulder. ‘You’ll need it.’ 

Our team, The Fezziwigs, demolished the opposition and stopped The Rake’s Progress in its tracks. 

Uncle Albert had put the fun back into The Fezziwigs and given us the last laugh.

Published in Issue #21

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