Rapa Nui and chromosomes

Welcome to my heady and burgeoning times.

You may recall my tearjerker post of a few months ago, cataloguing my series of epic failures at, um, just about everything. For all of my days out there in white heat of competition, I had wilted always and bloomed never. Darts, athletics, pool, sumo wrestling, white water rafting, Bob-a-Job, Shave the Goat, University Challenge, Hungry Hippos and Kerplunk! – I flunked them all. Always finishing second.

That was until I went to a round table quiz last November and romped home with my team mates to claim a bounty of smoked salmon and red wine. That was a watershed day, the day Lady Luck took an almighty U-turn in my life.

The latest instalment? Last night, our crack commando team (we all wore undies though. I did anyway) reunited and went to another quiz and, yawn, we won again. Well okay, we sneaked seven on to a five-man team and four of them were girls but it was for charity and we handed back our €200 prizemoney as it was all for good causes. Namely, the Niall Mellon Township Trust, my ego and the Things to Blog About Foundation, in that order.

It’s irrefutable fact now that I will win every quiz I ever enter from here to eternity and without fear of overstatement, I announce to the world that I, Terence Alphonsus McDanger, know absolutely everything.
You should see me writing this. I’m wearing a suit of armour atop a white steed with my pennant a-snap and flapping in the breeze over my shoulder, as I survey my lands and watch for more of the good times coming teeming over the hills.

I’m literally cock-a-hoop. This sounds painful I know, but trust me, I’m actually in a good place. I’m strutting about, you know, doing that funny sort of funky get-down groovy walk people morph into when approaching a dance floor. That’s comedian Peter Kay’s observation but trust me, he won’t mind me taking it. He’s hardly going to mess with the man who knows everything, is he? I could fuck up his shit real bad like, if he starts thinking he knows stuff like what country the island of Rapa Nui belongs to, or how many pairs of chromosomes a woman has.

I’ve now taken to flexing my great matter in public too. I’ve just come back inside after standing in front of the GPO challenging passers-by to a quiz-off.

“Here you! Yeah, you.”

“Sorry, can I hel….”

“Yeah yeah, listen. Just ask me a question. Anything at all. I’ll answer it. I fucking know everything me. Go on, ask me a question, anything at all.”

“Em…ok…er….what is 1/4 of 1/2 of 1/5 of 200?”

(Pause).

“Right! Ask me another question, anything at all, I know fucking everything me.................”