I think I'm turning English, I really think so

Words I never thought I'd hear myself say: 'Yippee! We're having another pub quiz!'

But that was then, and this is the new, Quiz Champion Scrivener. Oh yes. Last time there was a work-related quiz (as in people from work, that is, not questions about work, that would be dull), I was on the winning team. Admittedly I didn't contribute that many of the winning answers - I think I did get the Monopoly one, and Scrabble; but I got the date of the Lady Chatterley trial wrong* - but, champions nonetheless. By a whole, vital half-point. Ours to defend! We have a cup and everything.

And in further good news, I get to go to the Story of Christmas! This is an annual charity shindig with carol singing and Bible readings and stuff, which is all very dull (except possibly for the joy of lustily singing silly things very off-key), but the readings get done by slebs, see, and after the churchy stuff you get to rub elbows with them in a Champagne Reception. My Worthy Employer is one of the sponsors, so we get a bunch of tickets every year. I went last year (and got my free money's worth, believe me); this year I didn't get one, originally, but after some cunning footwork (read: shameless begging), me and partners in crime Debbie and Lucy are in!

Sadly, a certain suave, debonair and unnecessarily tall Star of Stage and Screen will not be making a repeat appearance this year - though his good friend Judi will be. So I'll have to look elsewhere for my bid for the gossip columns. Jeremy Paxman is to make a showing, I hear; I flex my flirting muscles**...

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*Only because Philip Larkin lied. Or was imprecise. See:
'Sexual intercourse began in 1963,
Which was rather late for me,
Between the end of the Chatterley ban
And the Beatles' first LP.'
You see how I could get confused. Apparently the ban actually ended way back in 1960.
**Located quite close to the pecs, in women.