Clutched by an Egghead.

Imagine one of The Eggheads giving you a hug. It would be cold, emotionless and terrifying.


The cuddle would have an alarming functionality. It would also be a good opportunity to check whether they have a pulse. They don’t strike me as a particularly tactile bunch. Why waste time showing affection that could be spent spouting trivia? Not to spice up conversation, but to show superiority. 

Picture an Eggheads dinner party, with each one vying for attention. You’d spend the duration in fear of being shot down or corrected. The atmosphere could be cut with a knife.

The show revolves around a depressingly stark concept. The Eggheads presumably get the same fee whether they win or not. The Challengers only get money if they beat them. All under the helm of a constantly fluctuating host. The presenter being determined by whether Jeremy Vine or Dermot Murnaghan is less pissed on any given night. 

(I once wrote a tweet to that effect that was favourited by Vine himself. I took this to be an admission.)

One positive byproduct of regularly watching Eggheads is it's answered a question I'd been pondering for ages:


Q: What is the secret to forming the perfect quiz team?
A: Identical sleeve length.


If your BCG is covered, you're fine.

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