Mark Mason

Why are you enjoying a bank holiday this month, as opposed to a ‘general’ or ‘national’ holiday? It’s because the man who invented them knew that employers might be tempted to ignore titles which were vague. But if the banks were forced to close, trade would become impossible. That man was the Liberal MP Sir John Lubbock, one of those 19th-century figures who sound as though they were invented by Michael Palin. He had three sisters and seven brothers, two of the latter playing for Old Etonians in the 1875 FA Cup final. Sir John was a friend of Charles Darwin – such a good friend, indeed, that when the naturalist became depressed, Lubbock was the only visitor allowed to see him.

‘What’s the capital of Albania?’ The correct answer is, of course: ‘Who cares?’ If you’re at a quiz and this is one of the questions, find another quiz. Either you know it’s Tirana or you don’t, and in neither case is there any satisfaction. A really good quiz question is one you can work out. For instance: ‘Which major UK retailer has the same name as Odysseus’s dog in Greek mythology?’ Even if you don’t know your Classics, you can take a mental trip up and down the high street until you arrive at Argos. Or, in the case of one team I encountered, FatFace. A good quizmaster should also avoid themed rounds. Saying ‘and now – geography’ will produce a groan from at least a quarter of the crowd.

Lewis Carroll used to travel with purses divided into separate compartments, each containing the exact number of coins he’d need for a particular transaction (train fare, porter, newspaper and so on). These days we have one bank card which gets tapped everywhere. The coinless society might be more convenient – but it’s also more boring. Coins are beautiful and fascinating. For centuries they were the only way most people knew what their monarch looked like. Henry VIII was nicknamed ‘Coppernose’ because of the way the silver coating on copper coins rubbed away, starting with his nose. Even Oliver Cromwell put himself on the currency (as a Roman emperor wearing a laurel wreath). Since Charles II, monarchs have alternated the way they face.

Donald Trump has form with the smelt. In his 2016 presidential run, he complained that California’s authorities were prioritising the endangered fish (which are native to the Sacramento-San Joaquin River Delta) over farmers’ irrigation needs. ‘Is there a drought?’ he asked a private audience of farmers ahead of a rally. ‘No, we have plenty of water.’ Environmentalists, he said, were wasting water in their efforts ‘to protect a certain kind of three-inch fish’. Last week, he levelled a similar accusation against California’s governor Gavin Newsom – or, as he calls him, ‘Newscum’ – for using the state’s water (which could have fought the LA fires) to provide the ‘essentially worthless’ smelt with a habitat.

Sometimes it’s the only word that will do. Every journalist at Max Verstappen’s press conference last month understood him perfectly when he said his car was ‘fucked’, the adjective chosen not to convey mechanical failings but rather Verstappen’s emotions. But the Formula 1 authorities were displeased, and the driver has been punished. Perhaps the FIA should listen to Billy Connolly. The comedian is a fan of the f-word, relishing its harsh consonants. He maintains there simply isn’t a polite equivalent to match it: ‘“Go away” just dissipates.’ Of course you can take it too far. Scattergun swearing is tedious, the words losing their power with each repetition. But sparing, well-timed use of an expletive or two can be hugely effective.