The Decision of the Judges

In order to fairly judge this year's Dissecting Room Bowl, I decided to gather together some of the great minds of 1895. The great minds of 1992 were all occupied with competing in the annual challenge, so the time-slip was mandatory if I was to have any help at all.

As is my habit, I gathered my panel at the Dangling Prussian, that fine little pub on Montague Street, and set the gathered answers in front of them. They responded, in turn, thusly:

"Glorious!" gasped Nathan Garrideb, pausing to wipe his great spectacles before reading further.

"Good heavens!" cried Hilton Soames, "how could they possibly know these things!"

"Wug, wug . . . wug," exclaimed Owen Tregennis excitedly.

So began the judging. with this group I felt I had gathered the pinnacle of obscure knowledges, academic standards, and destroyed mentality all at one table: Nathan Garrideb, the great collector and man of science. Hilton Soames, tutor and lecturer at one of the great university towns of Britain. And Owen Tregennis, victim of Devills Foot Root, whose wits had been driven from him by unspeakable horrors. Each of these three was a master of one of the varied attributes necessary in a Dissecting Room Bowl scholar.

They pored over the entries with a close fascination as I listed what I had originally conceived of as the correct answers (for the questions, see last issue):

1. "The stout gentleman with the w(h)ig should be a Reynolds."

2. "The lamp beat upon his face."

3. Hugo jump-started the hound, using "this Cavalier."

4. Sir William Baskerville resembled Mr. Whipple, due to the roll of paper he held and the fact he was "Charmin" of Committees.

5. Henry, Beryl’s admirer, “had something to do with dogs" out west and was "a better judge of a horse or a steer."

6. "the moor" (Othello), "as you like (it)," "Henry" (be it IV, V, VI, or VIII), burfle-burfle, mumble, mumble, ahem.

"What was that?" Hilton Soames interrupted in a precise, demanding tone.

"uhlosdeensirs," I replied under my breath.

"Beg pardon?" Nathan Garrideb joined in.

"Wug-wug, wug," Owen Tregennis added, just being social.

“I LOST THE ANSWERS, OKAY!?!" I finally admitted. "I'm doing this from memory, and this is the one I couldn't remember my answer to. Why do you think I needed a panel of judges this year!"

"You only needed to say so," Hilton Soames sniffed, and returned to scoring the quiz.

7. "Watson won't allow that I know anything of Art (Mooney)."

8. "There are several points upon which we still want light."

The panel of judges handed me the envelope containing their decision, and the room went silent as I opened it.

"And the winner of the 1992 Dissecting Room Bowl is . . . returning champion ROSEMARY MICHAUD!" Hilton and Nathan applauded wildly, while Owen started examining the table leg.

"Rosemary couldn't be here to accept this award," I said, picking up the vinyl deerstalkered duck trophy, "but I'd like to thank the academy for her, the judges, all the little people, the parents of the wonderful gent that made up the quiz, Bob Burr -- who actually made a dent in this year's questions, David McCallister -- for reminding us it was quiz time again as well as giving Rosemary fierce competition on the Shakespeare references, anyone who actually did watch "Ford Fairlane" to find the answer to number seven.

At that point, the page's end brought down the curtain.

(This column appeared in the November 1992 issue of Plugs & Dottles.)