The words 'pub' and 'quiz' go together like fish and chips, gin and tonic, and Little and Large. If there's one thing that enhances a great pub it is a great quiz – and I'm on a mission to find one to jump-start some sluggish brain cells and make me feel more at home in my new area.

In a town or village, the pub quiz choices are fairly limited: if the one place that has a quiz has a poor one, you're stuffed.

Having now moved up the city, I have already found five pub quizzes on week nights, within five minutes' walk of my house.

So, pub quiz-masters, this is your chance to impress. If you want me to bring along my knowledge of obscure facts, my dreadful short term memory, forensic studying of question sheets to spot spelling errors and limited collection of friends, this is how to make me your regular:

• Keep it simple. Ten rounds (or fewer) of 10 questions, with one point for each correct answer. No bonus points, no half points. Remember, it is a pub and the answers are marked by people who have spent the evening getting gradually more squiffy;

• Refuse to engage in discussion about whether the answers are correct: the quiz-master is the keeper of right, even when it's wrong. Quiz nights are not democratic, they are a dictatorship. And pedantic hecklers are tedious (*note to self: stop being pedantic and stop heckling);

• Use a microphone, so that the questions are not drowned out by raucous ribaldry or the menacing sound of people having fun;

• Ban dogs. I wouldn't have them in pubs at all, but I certainly don't want them barking, or snuffling around under my table when I'm trying to remember Freddie Mercury's real name;

• Include a sport round – partly because I love sport – but mainly because I love hearing all the sport-haters whingeing about it;

• Also include a music clips round so that I can listen to people humming or singing the lines in the hope of reaching the song title before the next clip kicks in and pushes it out;

• Keep the team sizes down. Some allow up to eight in a team, which immediately puts teams of two or four on the back foot. Five, or six at a stretch, will do;

• Team names – you've got to have them. Some are rude, some crude, some witty, some rather dull, others an in-joke. My next one might be this catchy little gem: 'The Leader of Norway from February 1942 to May 1945';

• Prizes: booze or cash; booze and cash; cash and booze. These are the two currencies that we understand, not chocolates or a voucher for a chest wax. Oh, and a cabbage for the losing team to share, as a homage to Crackerjack.

My final request is that I can answer all of the questions. I hope that's not too much to ask.