How To Become a "Britannica" Entry Quiz

Answer: He gets beheaded

"1. Get Beheaded. This is perhaps the surest path to getting written up. The 'Britannica' loves nothing more than a person - preferably a noble one - who has had his or her neck chopped in two. One of my favourite games involves reading a biographical squib that begins with the words 'French revolutionary' and then guessing how many years it takes before he finds himself under the guillotine."

In 2002, New York journalist and author Arnold "AJ" Jacobs (b1968) set out to read the entire 22,900 pages of the "Encyclopaedia Britannica". In "The Know-it-All" (2004), he wrote about his experiences during this mammoth undertaking, in what became as much of an autobiographical portrait as a ridiculously funny book of trivia. The book's subtitle gives as good an idea as anything about its general tone: "One Man's Humble Quest to Become the Smartest Person in the World".

It took Jacobs just over a year to read the 32 volumes of the 2002 edition, a year in which he and his wife were attempting to conceive their first child, and in which he pioneered a new 'mature' relationship with his father.

Through his reading, Jacobs came up with a 'top ten' list of ways to make sure you will one day get your own write-up in the great book.

Answer: Robert Scott

"2. Explore the Arctic. It helps if you can go on an ill-fated expedition, but pretty much any Arctic adventuring will do. If you travel anywhere north of Banff, you'll get a careful look from the 'Britannica' editorial committee."

While English Royal Naval officer Robert Falcon Scott (1868-1912) might not qualify on the Arctic part, his expedition to the Antarctic was certainly ill-fated. He was beaten to the South Pole by Norwegian Roald Engelbregt Gravning Amundsen (1872-1928) by just 35 days, making his the second expedition to reach the South Pole, in January 1912. While Amundsen went on to be (disputably) the first person to reach the North Pole in 1926, Scott and his entire party perished in their attempted return from Antarctica. And as if that weren't enough, after initially being lauded as a hero and memorialised with much pomp in a ceremony in St Paul's Cathedral, shortly after the 50th anniversary of Scott's death, people began asking questions. By the late 1970s, critics were pointing to his lack of preparation, his less-than adequate planning ability, and his singular refusal to take such seemingly obvious advice as "rely on your dogs".

Baron Nils Adolf Erik Nordenskjöld (1832-1901) was a Swedish geologist who combined specimen collecting with his Arctic exploration. He was the first to navigate the Northeast Passage in 1879. American Rear Admiral Richard Evelyn Byrd (1888-1957) took the high road, claiming in 1926 to have reached (ie flown over) the North Pole, in a Fokker called the 'Josephine Ford'.

Answer: Paul Bowles

"3. Write some poems. Surrealist and Russian formalist poets are especially welcome, but almost anyone who has ever written a quatrain or rhymed more than a dozen words seems to get into the club. At times, it gets almost as absurd as an early Paul Bowles poem. A two-page spread in the early Bs that is only slightly atypical features no less than three of 'em: Carl Bellman, Andres Bello, and Hillaire Belloc - a Swedish poet, a Chilean poet, and a good old Anglo-French poet."

Seeing as Paul Frederic Bowles (1910-1999) apparently started writing surrealist poetry before he was 11 years old, it's hardly surprising that it was a little absurd. But I think Jacobs might be referring to some of his slightly later work, such as "Song Spire" - written when Bowles was 16 - and published in the Paris-based literary journal "transition", which boasted darlings of modernism Gertrude Stein and James Joyce among its regular contributors. Stein - according to Bowles himself - later said to him "Freddy, you don't write great poetry", which is borne out by the fact that I could only find snippets of his verse quoted online. "There is a tendency toward darkness / But it will only soften the steel of me" and "Can we make wounds beautiful? / The tiger at the window smiles" being among the scant pickings to be found in the Special Collections Department of the University of Delaware Library. Fortunately Bowles had studied music, and went on to become a respected composer, as well as a writer of novels, short stories and travel tales, and also a translator.

New Jersey-born Norman Kingsley Mailer (1923-2007) is known for his WWII novel "The Naked and the Dead" (1948); William Saroyan (1908-1981) was a Californian writer of novels, short stories and plays; and Richard Wright (1908-1960) was a black American novelist, born on a Mississippi plantation but moving to France in 1946 after a brush with the Communist Party - his autobiography "Black Boy" (1945) was made into TV movie in 1995.

Answer: 1 April, 1995

"4. Become a botanist. Scandinavian ones seem particularly popular. Also, the study of mosses and peat deposits shouldn't be underestimated."

Apparently plant hoaxes are big business when it comes to April Fool's Day gags; who knew? From the Swiss Spaghetti Harvest announced on the BBC "Panorama" program in 1957, through the (gasp) genetically modified sunflowers appealing to millions of Tour de France watchers in 2004, to the banana-pineapple hybrid 'pinana' of 2009, the yucks just keep coming. But my favourite has to be the 1973 BBC Radio interview with Dr Clothier, an elderly academic telling a convoluted tale of how red-heads - through a similarity in their blood count to the soil conditions affecting certain trees - could acquire immunity to the common cold through exposure to Dutch Elm Disease, but only with the side-effect of having their hair turn yellow. Who would think of such craziness? Yup, turns out Dr Clothier was Spike Milligan. Classic!

Answer: Commedia dell'arte

"5. Get yourself involved in commedia dell'arte. The 'Britannica's obsession with the Italian 18th-century comedies borders on the unhealthy. The "EB" has great enthusiasm for commedia dell'arte actors, whether they happened to play the pretentious but cowardly soldier Capitano, the saucy maid Columbine, or the madcap acrobat Zanni."

Though commedia dell'arte performances were ostensibly improvised, the actors would agree on a basic outline before taking to the stage. These outlines are known as 'lazzi', and involved such themes as Food, Word Play, and the Sexual/Scatological. And here's me thinking commedia dell'arte was an example of 'refeened' high art! Bring it on I say, sounds like just my kind of drama; except perhaps not in Italian...

Answer: Botany

"6. Win the Nobel Prize. Economics, physics, peace - the category's not important, as long as you've got the medal."

The official Nobel categories are Chemistry, Literature, Peace, Physics, and Physiology or Medicine, which could be seen by some as favouritism. I mean, apart from awards some of us might actually have some hope of winning - Nobel Laureate in Trivial Knowledge sounds good, or perhaps the even more achievable Nobel Prize for Procrastination - there is a serious debate as to just why Alfred Nobel (1833-1896) didn't leave provision for a prize in Mathematics. Probably because he didn't see it as being as 'practical' as the other disciplines apparently, but I bet there's something more sinister lurking behind it.

And speaking of betting, in my own special way of blending extreme cynicism with outrageous naivety, it hadn't occurred to me that massive wagers are made on the outcome of the Nobel Prize each year. At the risk of giving away one of my closely-guarded 'FT quiz author secrets to success', I found out about Nobel betting after Googling "odd Nobel Prizes". I also found out that a Norwegian named Odd Hassel was the Laureate in Chemistry for 1969, for the strangely anticlimactic "concept of conformation and its application in chemistry".

Answer: Get castrated

"7. Get castrated (men only). If you're really committed, the word 'eunuch' is a good thing to have on your résumé. And don't despair, just because you have lost a pretty important source of testosterone, it doesn't mean you'll be powerless. On the contrary. Maybe it's a compensation thing, but many of these eunuchs over the years have had impressive clout. Like Bogoas, a Persian minister in the 4th century B.C., who led an army in conquering Egypt, looted the temples, made a fortune, killed the king, killed the king's sons, then tried to poison the new ruler he appointed, only to be forced to drink the poison himself. A good run while it lasted."

See, it's not necessarily a career-ending move. *don't mention John Bobbitt, don't mention John Bobbitt* - doh!

Answer: A font

"8. Design a font. Apparently, coming up with a new typeface is a more impressive feat than I had previously thought. The 'Britannica' especially likes controversial typefaces that are initially dismissed haughtily, only to be revived later and recognized as brilliant, like Baskerville, designed by font hero John Baskerville."

Thus proving that there is pretty well no field of human endeavour in which it isn't possible to start a fight. The kinda sad part about this for me is that as soon as I read the words "controversial typefaces" I thought to myself 'oh yeah, he must be talking about Baskerville'. Can we all say 'font nerd'?!

Answer: There aren't so many monarchs these days

"9. Become a mistress to a monarch (ladies only). This seems a pleasant and painless way to get in. If I were a woman, I'd start working on that as soon as possible, since there are fewer and fewer monarchs every day."

Now, if you hadn't already worked it out, I practically worship the keys AJ Jacobs types on, but I find myself in the tortuous position of having to disagree with him on the "pleasant and painless" part of this particular assignment. First of all, despite all the fairy tales and heroic ballads and so forth, your monarch, historically, was not what I'd call great boyfriend material. Sure they often had money and power and that stuff, but they generally didn't treat their mistresses very well - or, if they did, it was only until the next one came along, then you were dumped in the metaphoric midden and expected to be thankful for it. Then there's the draughty castles, the uppity peasants, and that whole thing about personal hygiene which I don't even know where to start on. And as to painless, I refer you back to the number one way of being written up in the "EB", vis "get beheaded".

Answer: Mutandoni

"10. Become a liturgical vestment. I know this is easier said than done, but since every garment ever worn by a religious figure gets a nice picture, I thought I'd throw it in, just in case."

Used in the Roman Catholic, Anglican and some Lutheran Churches, a zucchetto is a skull-cap - somewhat like a Jewish yarmulke - while a chasuble - or cope - is a long circular cape used in the same denominations. The maniple - a handkerchief bound around the wrist during the Mass - fell out of favour during the 1970s, but is apparently making a come-back among some Catholics and Anglicans.

During his journey through the "EB", AJ Jacobs congratulates himself on his increasingly more sophisticated appreciation of the world, with less emphasis on the "Beavis and Butthead" level of humour. Unfortunately, I haven't read much of the EB at all, and I find myself confessing that 'mutandoni' is Italian for knickers.