Out of our league

Jenny and I have finally faced reality and admitted we aren't up to the intricacies of chess games. We packed up our lovely glass chess set and it will go to a new owner with the necessary high-powered brain.

We've been in the habit of holding a chess tournament every Christmas to stretch our brains a little and have a bit of fun. But you need a brain that can consider several possible strategies at once and how all of them might develop.

We're just not up to the job. We were fumbling around making silly mistakes and letting our pieces be taken too easily. We were taking longer and longer to make our next move, while the other person got increasingly bored and impatient.

So we finally accepted that chess is too sophisticated for our puny brains. We've given up trying to master a game that's way out of our league and we've gone back to something more manageable - Scrabble.

We're both good with words, so Scrabble suits us much better. And we don't nod off waiting for the other person to move.

Brain teaser

I often feel intimidated by people who are smarter than me - or who I believe to be smarter than me. And I know other people can feel intimidated by me for the same reason.

I guess this trait is a sort of domino effect right the way from the total dimwits at the bottom to the MENSA geniuses at the top, with upwards intimidation at each level.

I succumb to it all the time. As soon as I perceive someone to be brainier than me, I promptly become more cautious in what I say or do for fear of haughty scoffing the moment I open my mouth. I check my every utterance for signs of moronic stupidity. I check my posture and mannerisms for obvious cretinicity. I tweak and adjust my remarks to make them sound more intelligent, more sophisticated. I monitor the other person's reactions to see if I've succeeded or if they can easily see through my pathetic attempts to seem sharper than I really am.

And I always over-admire public figures who seem super-intelligent. I'm transfixed by how articulate they are, how slickly analytical, how impervious to bullshit, how they cut straight to the chase. Their private life may be a total disaster area, they may be monsters to live with, but one whiff of that forensic intelligence and I'm theirs. Everything else is irrelevant.

I can tell myself that it's all a trick, a cunning sleight of hand. That people give the impression of high intelligence in all sorts of phoney ways - obscure literary references, technical jargon, clever theories, oddball opinions. But I'm still taken in. I still get duped by the superficial brilliance.

As for other people feeling intimidated by me - how absurd is that? I'm just an average dude with an average intelligence who has somehow managed to get by in life without too many horrific pratfalls or dreadful miscalculations. The idea that I might be super-intelligent is about as daft as thinking the moon is made of chocolate.

Yet some people clearly do think that. There are times when I sense the same furtive caution and tweaking that I'm so guilty of myself. When I sense the secret assumption that Nick can somehow run rings round them in the thinking department. I hate to disillusion anyone but....

Pic: the super-intelligent, mega-brainy Tina Fey

Lost masterpiece

So I thought I'd say something about the meaning of life, the history of the universe and the global epidemic of existential angst.

- Ssh. Time for some silence.

- What do you mean?

- Silence is very therapeutic. It cleanses your inner being.

- That's as may be. Who're you anyway? Who said you could take over my brain?

- Oh, I've been running your brain for a long time. You were making such a mess of it, I was asked to step in.

- That's outrageous. You can't just jump into my brain. Bugger off right now.

- I'm only doing my job. You'll thank me for it later.

- You'd better be gone in five minutes. Now as I was saying, the meaning of life in a nutshell, stripped down to its basic essence, is this....

- There're huge parts of your brain you're not even using. Did you know that?

- Don't be ridiculous. My brain is as busy as a beehive. The level of activity is breathtaking.

- There's a bit here that's completely dormant. The bit that contains the literary masterpiece of the 21st century.

- Good grief. How do I activate it?

- It needs a special password. Do you know it?

- No. Fuckity fuck fuck. Buggery bollocks. So I'll never write it. It's lost in a neurological black hole. I could have been another Dostoevsky.

- Too bad. At least you enjoy pink frocks and six-inch stilettos. Goodness, is that the time? Must rush, I've got another ninety brains to fix before lunch.

- As I was saying, the meaning of life....