Pub trivia is the ultimate refuge for people who lack a personality

If you’d rather recite a cricketer’s 2007 batting average than hold a real conversation, you aren’t a “polymath” -- you’re just a joyless narc holding the rest of the pub hostage.

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It’s 7.29pm on a warm Tuesday and I’m mid-anecdote at the pub, holding court for a – naturally – utterly gripped, wide-eyed friend.

We’ve blurred out the annoying live sports, scoffed a chicken parmy, and the effervescent bubbles from my second schooner make me race excitedly to the punchline, desperate to hit it before my friend loses interest.

“And I’m not one to gossip, but you’ll never guess what he said,” I say, inviting a response despite this question being rhetorical.

We’re interrupted by three dull thuds on an overly amped microphone. Our heads swivel in slow unison. The host, who hogs the mic all night with zero punchlines or gossip, mock-clears his throat: “Are we all ready for trivia?”

Unfortunately, this isn’t a rhetorical question; otherwise, I’d have answered in the negative. My animated tones are replaced by his monotone. I audibly groan.

Here’s the thing: I should love trivia nights. People sometimes tell me I should, and I usually agree with them.

“I thought you’d love trivia,” they’ll say. But I don’t. I really don’t. I almost feel like I’m letting them down by confessing it. I view pub quizzes with the same bewildered suspicion I reserve for Taylor Swift: I recognise the global phenomenon, I just don’t........

© Brisbane Times