Unlock the Editor’s Digest for free
Roula Khalaf, Editor of the FT, selects her favourite stories in this weekly newsletter.
The writer is a science commentator
The October email might as well have asked if I would like to continue breathing. Would I consider representing my alma mater, it inquired, on Christmas University Challenge, a festive spin-off of the general knowledge quiz show that pits teams of students against each other?
Duh, what a no-brainer! I have watched the show, which began in 1962, for as long as I can remember. The student version is the crowning glory of BBC’s unmissable Monday night quizathon: first up at 7.30pm is Mastermind, in which contestants sit in a spotlit chair to face interrogation on their chosen subject; then Only Connect, in which teams work out codes and sequences.
Finally, at 8.30pm, is University Challenge, the much-parodied showcase for the nerdocracy. In perhaps the most famous episode of eighties comedy The Young Ones, the bow-tied toffs of Footlights College, Oxbridge, battle the nose-picking louts of Scumbag College. If you know what hapax legomenon means, then UC is the show for you. I didn’t, not before Ted Loveday, competing for Cambridge university’s Gonville and Caius College in 2015, barked the Latin phrase as a sensational quick-fire answer — and went viral.
But I do own a mug bearing the slogan “always right” — and I adore a pub quiz. Here was my excuse to learn the names of kings, queens and prime ministers; the sweep of the Roman empire; where Wyoming is on a US map. Yes, the credibility of Imperial College London — which has won the student competition a record four times — would be on the hook but this would be an experience to cherish.
Plus, my three Imperial teammates seemed excellent sports: two stand-up comedians, physicist Helen Arney and chemist Mark Silcox; and Susannah Maidment, a stegosaurus expert who pledged to don a dino jumper. We had the sciences and sartorial code covered — but what about everything else?
Based on old Christmas episodes, we brainstormed possible questions. For celebrity deaths, I pored over FT obituaries of Milan Kundera and Silvio Berlusconi; GeoGuessr, a geography puzzle website, became my Candy Crush. We memorised trivia on the Oscars, Nobels and Booker prizes; I even learnt the Latin for turkey.
When I finally met Helen on the train up to the Salford studio, her head buried in the Periodic Table, I knew I had found my tribe. But team confidence ebbed away as we sat in make-up, watching on the studio feed as a fearsome quartet slayed the opposition. Did a similar humiliation await?
Of a dozen teams, the four highest-scoring make the semi-finals. Our round, against Liverpool University, airs tonight. I can’t reveal the result but it was far harder than it looks, even after presenter Amol Rajan broke the pre-match tension by laughing uncontrollably at Mark’s incomprehensible thesis title. The revision helped little.
It is not enough to know the answer: you must be first to the buzzer. But not too fast: interrupt incorrectly and your team loses points, and gifts a guess to the opposition. A correctly answered starter, worth 10 points, earns three further bonus questions worth 5 points apiece. A panel of question setters is on hand to rule on answers, interrupting filming if necessary.
For days afterwards, I was haunted by the howlers: going blank on absolute sitters (how could we not identify a Singapore sling?); buzzers pressed a split-second too late; the time wasted over an answer unlikely to surface; the embarrassing stinker of a guess because we’d all forgotten the question.
Other alumni from previous years report similar post-match symptoms. Still, it was a magical experience. My acetate nameplate sits on the mantelpiece as a souvenir. I am excited about tonight’s broadcast — though for obvious reasons, I probably won’t be mixing myself a cocktail.