Quiz dating is a great way to discover the interests of others Roy McMahon

The pub quiz. At best you win, at worst you suffer a ribbing from your mates for being completely useless but sink a few pints and have a jolly time anyway.

This one had a different dynamic­ altogether. It was in sophisticated Soho wine bar Amuse Bouche rather than a grubby boozer, and love (or at least a hot date) was up for grabs. My team-mates, rivals and even the quizmasters were in the ­singles market.

Quiz dating is the latest dating services offshoot, and a monthly fixture on the Original Dating calendar­.

It is an enticing concept for those who have exhausted­ the speed-dating circuit, or anyone averse to being probed over a pressurised three minutes.

It works like this: women form half a team and the other half is formed of an equal number of men, who rotate between the tables each round. My wingwoman is Jo – bubbly­ HR executive by day, pub quiz impresario by night. With Karen and Julia, gorgeous­ brunettes in their 30s, we are a formidable foursome, getting tipsy on a bottle­ of sauvignon.

The beauty of quiz ­dating is each question is a chance to find out about one another’s interests – or lack thereof.

For example, he knows the length of the entire Tube network: an engineer with an endearing knack for storing trivia. He can rattle off Bruce Springsteen’s 2009 tour dates: a rock’n’roller and possible gig buddy/lover. He knows the names of all the Desperate Housewives: questionable.

We are a bit light on the male contingent tonight, so the men come by our team alone or in pairs.

First to face this bevvy was Dave – a boisterous, cuddly-bear comedian-type who revealed a shoe fetish after­ locking his eyes on Jo’s foot clobber.

We met Juan, Tim and Ben in the next round – an incongruous bunch. Juan proudly said speed dating was his “hobby” and proposed I jet off to Uganda with him to meet his family (apparently getting to know each other first is a waste of time); Tim, an IT worker was sweet, if a little meek; and amenable Ben was the only one who cared to know more about us.

Baby-faced Simon, by far the youngest there (it’s for ages 23-35), introduced himself to us as Raul, the ­Desperate Housewives pool cleaner and admitted unashamedly he was “a bit pissed”. We were all on our way there. This was fun.

The revolving door of men also introduced to us Sash, a brooding rugby-playing Kiwi; Gavin, a funny accountant (they do exist); and Stephen, a rather chatty HR worker.

In the general knowledge department, none was a match for Jo’s iPhone, which we consulted with total moral abandonment.

But hey, it is not really about the questions, is it? Plus we shared the winning bottle of champagne afterwards. And that, the organisers say, is when the real meeting of hearts begins.

After logging my preferences the next day, an online matching system revealed my admirers. Six ain’t bad for this notorious quiz failure.

I am told the identity only of those I chose as friends or more, and two have already asked me out. Maybe not a bad hobby after­ all, Juan.

See originaldating.com