You've got the ones who go every week,
Who thought about getting badges made,
Who never come anything less than third.
You've got the ones who go for a laugh,
Who talk through the questions,
And go for a fag in the Science round.
You've got the ones who think they're the shit,
Who have puns in their team-names,
Like 'Quiz-team Aguilera'.
You've got the ones who wait for 'Entertainment'
Because of their Heat subscription,
Hoping for one about Geri Halliwell's baby.
Then you've got the bar staff,
Sick of the quiz-caller's voice,
Sick of the competitive heat in the air,
And sick of
"Can you repeat number seven mate?"