Rounds of Contention: Behind the Quizmaster's Clipboards at The Oak

There's a moment, usually around 9.40pm on quiz night, when the back room of The Royal Oak goes very quiet. It's the moment someone reads out a question they don't believe is fair, and forty-odd villagers look up from their pints with the same expression: that one's going to cause bother.

We know, because we wrote it.

The Writing Session Nobody Sees

The quiz gets drafted about a fortnight before it's played, usually at the corner table by the window once the lunchtime rush has died down. There are three of us involved, and the process is less 'devising a fun evening of trivia' and more 'diplomacy with beer mats'.

The rule we've settled on, after some painful lessons, is this: a good question is one where every team has a fighting chance of arguing about it afterwards, even if they got it wrong. If a question is so obscure that nobody can even be bothered to contest it, it's failed. If it's so easy the room groans, it's failed harder.

That balance is harder to strike than you'd think. Take the crops question.

'Too Farming?' The Great Debate

A while back, we drafted a question about the sugar beet harvest — something along the lines of when it typically kicks off in Lincolnshire. Half the writing team thought it was a lovely bit of local flavour. The other half said it was 'too farming', which apparently is a real category of complaint.

The compromise was to widen it out, but the argument stuck. It turns out there's a real line in this village between the rounds that land with the agricultural crowd and the ones that land with the commuters and retirees, and every month we're walking it like a tightrope over the snooker table.

For the record: the crops question ran, and it split the room exactly as predicted. We're keeping it. Probably.

Rounds That Got Booed

Yes, booed. Out loud. By grown adults holding biros.

The picture round where every image was a crop from a drone's-eye view — that one got an audible chorus of disapproval. The 'name the year this song was released' music round, which we thought was a crowd-pleaser, turned out to be a generational fault line: the under-40s did brilliantly, everyone else did the crossword instead.

And the general knowledge round one winter that leaned far too heavily on 1970s television? A gentleman at the front table stood up, slowly, and asked if we'd like to 'have another go at that'. We did not. We retired the round with full honours.

The Tiebreaker That Nearly Caused a Feud

Every quizmaster knows the tiebreaker is where reputations are made and lost. Ours nearly ended a friendship that goes back to primary school.

The question: within five years, when was the pub itself first licensed — 1821 being the date everyone knows, but the tiebreaker asking for something more precise. Two teams went head to head. One wrote their answer. The other wrote the same answer. Then the arithmetic started, and the arguing started, and by the time it was settled, the two teams had agreed to disagree, shaken hands with the warmth of a January car park, and played darts about it instead.

We now write tiebreakers that are unambiguous to the decimal point. Lesson thoroughly learned.

Five Questions That Divided the Room

In the spirit of transparency — and because half the village will check our working anyway — here are five of our most contentious questions, with the answers that caused all the fuss:

1. Which river does Barrow upon Humber sit on? — The Haven. You'd be amazed how many people say the Humber itself and then argue the toss.
2. What colour is a sugar beet? — White-ish, technically, with pale yellow tones. Half the room refused to accept this. The farming contingent were smug for a fortnight.
3. How many bells does Holy Trinity church have? — We've been asked to withdraw this one after the tower captain got involved. It ran anyway.
4. Which year did decimal currency arrive in Britain? — 1971. The arguments were not about the answer but about whether the question was 'too easy for anyone over fifty' and 'impossible for anyone under'.
5. What is the most commonly farmed cereal in Lincolnshire? — Wheat. Wheat. It's wheat. Please stop coming to the bar about it.

Come and Split Yourself

The quiz runs monthly, teams of up to six, entry is a couple of quid a head with the pot going to the winners and the rest to a good cause. Bring a pencil, bring a grudge, and bring your best 'well actually' voice — you'll be in fine company.

And if you think a question's unfair, do come and tell us. We love the argument more than the quiz itself, if we're honest. It's the most Barrow thing there is.