Sid, the landlord of our favourite pub, has asked Tony and me if we want to take part in another pub quiz. First prize to the winners is fifty pounds, which Tony reckons would do just nicely right now, as we are, as he puts it, "poorer than a third world nation."
The boy was up all night revising for the quiz, which he claims will be a walk in the park. I reckon that he's right, and providing we can stay off the beer long enough, and concentrate on the job in hand, with our combined general knowledge, the prize money is as good as ours.
However, there will be some tough competition, but as Tony says, whilst he knows very little about world politics, science, geography or current affairs, he is a walking encyclopedia when it comes to football.
Sid says that tonight is going to be a blazing success, and he's literally rubbing his hands with glee when he thinks about all the drink he's going to sell tonight.
Tony's now off for an afternoon nap, which he says is vital to relax his brain, and get him in shape for tonight. After that, we're going to have a light lunch of cheeseburgers and lager, and then spend the rest of the afternoon revising.
Tony forsees great things happening tonight, and although victory is not yet ours, he reckons that the two of us are just a few hours from showing the world that although we're two idle, foul-mouthed layabouts, we're also right up there with Einstein when it comes to pushing the brain to its limits!