It was 9.33pm and the phone rang. The pig farmer muttered something along the lines of "who's this and don't they know I've just opened a beer?"
"Hi Malc, it's Corinne," said Corinne.
"Oh hello, how are you?" replied the pig farmer, trying to remember the last time Sal's niece had rung him and coming up with "never before".
"We're fine. Happy New Year."
"And the same to you. How's little Henry and is your Dad upright yet?" said the pig farmer, settling in for a chat.
"Henry's great and Dad'll be fine once we get him a milky drink and tuck him up in bed. Can you tell me the names of the Ramones?"
"You're in a quiz, right?"
"Johnny, Joey, Deedee and Tommy - although you could also have Marky, Richie, CJ* and Elvis," said the pig farmer, going for the irritating, know-it-all extra bit of information as they do on that loathsome Eggheads show.
That's the trouble with being educated at a very moderate private school. You come out ill-equipped to deal with life's real challenges, but you're a demon in a pub quiz. Still, if it means you can help out family members in their moment of need, fair enough.
* He was the one who didn't get where he is today without wearing leather jackets, sneakers and shouting "Gabba gabba hey!"