We Are The Champions My Frie-hends...Dum Dum Dum Dum

The other night I attended the local Pub Quiz. I've only ever been to two before but it's always been the after-thought to an afternoons drinking, resulting in me being unable to decipher my own handwriting, trying to copy the answers of the team sat beside me and generally being a squiffy nuisance.
This time, it was a planned outing and without all the beers, was a new and interesting experience.
My crack team consisted of myself, my boyfriend 'E' and my sister who was down from London on a fleeting visit (we know how to show someone a wacky time round these parts).
We were competing against 8 or 9 teams, one of which was a group of about fifteen students, and one of which were the reigning quiz champions of the past fifteen years (or something equally as impressive).
It was tense.
About ten minutes in to the questions, I realised I had a mad competitive streak I never knew existed. We had to win this quiz. It was no longer just a night in the pub. It was about respect. It was about power. It was about the £20 beer voucher on offer for the victorious.
We became focused, answering questions with logical reasoning, and lightening speed. We glared at anyone who dared to speak over the announcer, we kept in our hearts, the prospect of free beer. We won.
On the announcement of our victory we quietly cheered for ourselves and collected our prize with pride, avoiding the pissed off daggers being thrown by the quiz regulars.
It was great.