Dreadful quiz night stitch-up

Angry quizzers mutter in a grumbling stylee about quiz debacle.

I have never been more sickened to death. Literally.

Last night I was abused on a charitable basis by cut-purse scoundrels who made off with prizes for the annual "Look At Me, I'm Derrig, The Quizmaster - Ha Ha You've Got To Listen To Me Now Haven't You, Suckers?" quiz night.

I was shocked and appalled to learn that Tallulah "Fizzy-Shenanigans" McGuinness, Ali "Un" Worthy, Steph "Un" Wise, and Lucie "Un" Hynged had been cahooting with my Genius Amanuensis Williams in behind-the-scenes appallingness and curvaceous knavery to win £50 of worthless vouchers and 5 t-shirts they will struggle to get over their disturbingly-shapely trunks.

It's this kind of thing that's giving Club Derrig a bad name.

Quiz maniacophile (just 3rd last night) Bazza Lyons, seen here seizing the Lady Josephine's charitable box while her spiv hubby merely looks on.

The blame must be laid firmly at the door(s) of that new President woman, the Lady Josephine "Not Tonight, Sam, Down Boy" Wheeeeeeeeeeelan and the bad example she sets canoodling with Sam "Spiv" Oestreicher, the Club's esteemed Treasurer and owner of many very fine and well-furnished properties in and around the Forest of Walthamstow, although this is entirely unconnected with his very fine management of our many ebbing income streams.

Still, at least Mr. Benjam"in" Thomas wasn't present to snatch victory with his cracked team of BlackBerry-wielding ne'er-do-well sirens.

All in all, then, an excellent night.