Brain boxes

The resident team of five ‘Eggheads’ are taking on today’s challengers, five ex-garage owners now drawing their pensions and with nothing much better to do with their afternoon.

“Welcome to the Re-tyreds!”  says the quiz host, Diemad Murderman.
“More like retards!” titters Egghead Judith behind her hand.  The rest of the Eggheads snigger down their noses.  Egghead Chris sniggers too hard and speckles the desktop with snot.

“Okay, you guys,” says Diemad, “we better get on with it.  Best of luck to our challengers, and remember – You’re playing for something money can’t buy – the Eggheads reputation!
Oh, and also the current roll over prize of £75,000.”

The Quiz gets under way and tension almost rises as the scores remain locked together, but by the end of half an hour of tedium, the team members are whittled down to Egghead Daphne and Retyred Malcom.

“Sudden death questions now,” yawns Diemad, “and no help from your eliminated colleagues who are locked in the question room.”
Two large TV screens behind the last two contestants show their teammates crammed into the sound proof isolation booths.  It looks like the Retyred’s room is also airtight, as they seem to be having trouble breathing.

“Eggheads question first.  Daphne, how many rivets are used to hold together the Eifel Tower?”
“That’s a tough one, Diemad, but I would say two thousand, five hundred,” says Daphne.

The audience at home hold their breath in anticipation.  The four in the airless Retyred booth just hold their breath.

“Well it’s actually one hundred times that but you’re close, so I’m going to give you it,” says Diemad Murderman.

“Now, Retyreds, it’s your turn.  Malcolm what’s the term for a juggler who continually drops his skittles?”
“Er, unemployable?”  Malcolm is obviously guessing.

“Unlucky Malcolm, that’s not the correct answer, I wonder if your team mates know,” smiles Diemad, turning to face the display screens.

“Sorry guys,” says Malcolm to the question booth. 
There’s no answer from his teammates who are in a heap on the floor, but then a hand reaches up and presses its palm onto the glass of the booth.  Written on the skin in felt pen are the words ‘Useless Tosser’.

“Can nobody beat these Eggheads?” laughs Diemad, reaching for his coat.

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