OK. Let’s get the hard bit of this over with.

I took part in the media quiz this week at the launch of the National Lottery’s Games Brain of Britain, which seeks to challenge the general populace with what it describes as "the ultimate test of Olympic and Paralympic knowledge."

The prize for that lucky ultimate winner will be a trip to the Olympic location of their choice. (I’m thinking no-one needs to be checking flights to Atlanta anytime soon. Although any such trips may be academic if that Icelandic volcano - you know, the one that’s been in the news a bit - continues to selfishly disrupt the sporting programme with its burped magma. Who does it think it is? Krakatoa?)

Of course, taking part was not the hard bit. I just had to sit down in the Docklands Museum at an old-fashioned, hinged-lid schooldesk which had a piece of cardboard on it with my name clearly printed. And then I had to press a buzzer if I wanted to supply an answer. As the meercats would say, "Simples!"

The hard bit was this: I didn’t win. And not only didn’t I win, I was rubbish.

(The person who wasn’t rubbish, and did win, was Simon Hart of the Telegraph. And after receiving his trophy from our ruler-wielding teacher and quizmaster for the day, Sir Steven Redgrave, our victor ludorum looked suitably schoolboyishly sheepish as he was decked out with a gown, mortar board and stick for photographic purposes. The prize was two tickets to Barcelona. He’s already going to Barcelona this summer for the European Championships! Ah well. There you go.)

But I digress.

What I was thinking was this. Hardly any of the things I remember about the Olympics and Paralympics seemed to correspond with the questions being asked of me at my school desk, which strongly reminded me of the kind of desk I longed to have at my first school, and was promised when I reached the top year, and which I never got, because our family had to move down south after someone in the Ministry of Transport decided the M62 motorway was going to be routed through our house…

But I digress.

To return to our relevant narrative, on the rare occasions when my knowledge did coincide with something being asked, I found myself prodding away at a button which stubbornly refused to light up the display at the front of my desk.

The official reason for this was that I was too slow, and some other candidate had beaten me to it.
 
Clearly there is a major conspiracy going on here, but I am going to rise above this disgraceful fact and instead present my ideal set of Olympic quiz questions.

They are ideal for two reasons. Firstly, they are, I believe, irresistible. And secondly, I know about them.

If only they’d asked me questions on these…

In AD67, which Roman Emperor travelled to the Ancient Games in Greece and came away with six golds, including one for a chariot race in which he had taken part while under the influence of Bacchus, and forbidden any others to compete?

Yes, it was Emperor Nero. And yes, he did also manage to win the two events he had "suggested" should be included in that year’s Games, lyre-playing and tragedy.

Which Hungarian clan made fencing a family affair at the Olympics between 1912 and 1980?

It was, of course, the Gerevich family. Aladar Gerevich won a record seven golds, one silver and two bronzes between 1932 and 1960. His wife, Erna Bogen, won a bronze in 1932. Her father, Albert Bogen, won a silver in 1912.

Disappointingly, Aladar and Erna’s son, Pal, showed no sign of any athletic ability whatsoever. Actually that’s not true. He won Olympic fencing bronze medals in 1972 and 1980.

Which Canadian snowboarder won the first ever Winter Olympic gold in his event at the Nagano Games of 1998, but then saw the gold medal moving away from him when a test showed up traces of marijuana in his system? And what was his immediate defence?

That would be Ross Rebagliati (pictured) , whose gold medal was returned to him when it transpired that, due to an apparent failure of communication between the Olympic authorities and the international body that dealt with snowboarding, marijuana was not a banned substance at the time of the Games - a loophole that was swiftly closed.

Rebagliati claimed in mitigation that his positive test had occurred as a result of his attending a farewell party in his native Canadian resort of Whistler (where marijuana is reputed to be stronger than anywhere else in the world) at which many of his friends were taking advantage of the local resource. Specifically, Rebagliati’s defence was the reverse of Bill Clinton’s - he inhaled, but he didn’t smoke.

Who was disqualified in 1904 for cheating in the marathon?

That was Fred Lorz, who was first man back in the stadium looking suspiciously fresh. It transpired he had received a lift in a car after suffering cramp, and when the car had broken down near the stadium he had resumed running. He claimed it was a joke. Lorz was banned for a year. History doesn’t record whether this was for cheating, or for his shockingly bad excuse…

When Li Ho Jun of the People’s Republic of Korea won the small-bore prone gold medal in the shooting at the 1972 Olympics, with a score of 599 out of a possible 600 points, what was his response when asked how he had concentrated so well?

His answer was that he pretended he was "aiming at a capitalist".

Now I accept that the odds of these five questions cropping up in an Olympics quiz are long. But just in case they do - consider yourselves fortunate for this rehearsal.

Mike Rowbottom, one of Britain's most talented sportswriters, has covered the last five Summer and four Winter Olympics for The Independent. Previously he has worked for the Daily Mail, The Times, The Observer, the Sunday Correspondent and The Guardian. He is now chief feature writer for insidethegames