Angela bought me a board game for Christmas, The Logo Game. We took it with us on a getaway week staying in a forest lodge over the holidays and became just a tiny bit addicted to it.
It’s a quiz game, in the style of Trivial Pursuit. We had an unwritten rule added to the official ones which stated that at least one alcoholic beverage must be consumed by all players prior to the first question being asked. Only Angela and I played, our three dogs tried to join in at one point but they had difficulty reading the cards, and a lack of opposable thumbs prevented them moving the counters around the board; we had to ban them.
The first couple of games could be described as mild, friendly amusement. We give each other endless clues and sometimes led the other so far down the correct road that it was akin to showing them the answer written on the card. We laughed a lot.
There was a turning point in game three. I asked the question, “What two letters of the alphabet can be found in the Volkswagen logo?” Angela replied “BMW”. Well, I laughed my head off at the utter ineptitude of this answer, “BMW, are you joking?” Angela shouted back “Vee and Double-Yoo, you deaf get!”
At that moment, the friendliness of our gameplay disappeared, and competitive instincts took over. The clues dried up and winning became everything.
Angela showed me a picture of the soft drink IRN BRU logo; question one was to identify the brand which I answered correctly, question two was to spell it. I replied “I..R..N..hyphen..B..R..U”. Angela said that was not correct because, according to the answer written on the card, there was no hyphen in it. One day earlier, she would have given that as a right answer. Now I hate to be pathetic about it, but (1) when I ask my voice recognition software to write Irn-Bru it automatically inserts a hyphen, and (2) here is a picture of an Irn-Bru can.
I asked Angela the question “Who was responsible for selling Norfolk turkeys with the phrase ‘They’re bootiful’?” I knew that Angela knew the answer, but she couldn’t transport it from her brain to her mouth. She said, “Oh, I can picture him, this is so frustrating, will you give me a clue?” I replied, “Yes, it’s two words”.
For anyone remotely interested, Angela won the series-defining play-off match on the final night of our holidays, and I was grumpy for hours.