It's never easy admitting you may not be the smartest person alive, particularly when you've convinced yourself of this for the last several years. This is the situation I have found myself in recently as I suffered the ultimate in humiliations. In bragging about my fantastic efforts on the Big League crossword to my older brother (only two words short), he quickly fired across the room not only a copy of that weeks Big League with a completed (and correct) crossword, but also the previous two issues in an identical complete state.

To say I was devastated would be to say that the Roosters are merely 'poor' or the Raiders simply 'inexperienced', that is, it doesn't nearly reflect how deeply this moved me. I was so disillusioned I had to leave work for the day and figure out where it all went wrong over some quiet beers and a plate of nachos. Unfortunately for me, the nearest pub was 10 miles away and I had hitched a ride with my infinitely smarter brother to work, so I had to be content with some soggy takeaway chips, a milkshake and a copy of Zoo magazine. At least that would prepare me for any future 'last name of runway model dating Braith Anasta' questions in future crosswords, which may give me the edge over my damn brother, providing Anasta hasn't moved on once again on his endless carousel of hot babes he is dating, no doubt for his stunning good looks and charming personality.

After a week of pure agony as I contemplated what other sports I could take an interest in that have a weekly magazine with crossword, I gained some semblance of respect back Sunday morning as the family genius tossed me an as good as completed Sportsword, mockingly asking for me to 'have a go' at the last few questions he had missed. To stick it to him, I managed to let him know that the former Brisbane baseball side was known as the Bandits, while I claimed an obscure golfers first name was Roger, thanks to the R_G_R clue that had been left. My brother claimed that unless I could answer the question with my own knowledge rather than these shenanigans, it didn't count, and a healthy debate ensued where I told him to 'stick it up his sunshine' and 'go and improve himself' (profanity replaced in both sentences to protect innocent eyes) to which he responded by tackling me over the couch before delivering a merciless beating with the now rolled up Sunday newspaper. As he did this I think I noticed he spelt Civoniceva with an