The cult heroes of University Challenge are back
Monkman and Seagull, cult heroes of University Challenge, are back. Guy Kelly reports
Monkman & Seagull
It isn’t often that a contestant on a television programme manages to charm the British public to a near-unanimous point of delirium. It’s rarer still we take more than one to our hearts. For viewers of the 2016/17 series of University Challenge, though, that competition will live long in the memory not for the brilliance of the eventual winners (sorry, Oxford Balliol), but purely for the contributions of two men: Eric Monkman and Bobby Seagull.
First, a recap. Both Monkman and Seagull captained Cambridge University teams, the former Wolfson College and the latter Emmanuel College. Both were phenomenally knowledgeable. Their appeal, especially to an audience tweeting while watching, was obvious.
Monkman, a 29-year-old Canadian whose side lost in the final, had a name that made him sound like an ecclesiastical superhero; he wore precisely the same outfit – navy striped jumper, starched blue collar and a tie – in every round; he had a gymnastic thinking face and barked all his answers with the ferocity of a drill sergeant. On the other hand, Seagull, a 22-year-old Londoner, had a name that made him sound, well, like a seagull; he wore increasingly sharp blazer-tie ensembles; and always seemed quite inordinately happy to be taking part.
So popular was Monkman that #Monkmania trended every time Wolfson appeared. So popular was Seagull that one national newspaper declared him: “The cult hero of
University Challenge.” So it didn’t take long for canny commissioning editors to figure out how to drive those fans wild, namely by putting Monkman and Seagull together. Gold.
As a pair, they are collaborating on a quiz book, out just before Christmas, while on Monday they will present Monkman and Seagull’s Polymathic Adventure, a BBC Radio 4 documentary about polymaths – those of wide knowledge and learning – both past and present. And the BBC has already told them that when they come up with another idea, it will commission another programme.
It’s early morning in central London when we meet, but the pair are already fizzing with trivia. Seagull juggles his time between a PHD at Cambridge and teaching maths at a state secondary school near the university, while Monkman is on a three-month internship at The Economist magazine.
“It’s a really fascinating experience,” says Monkman, who turns up wearing
that jumper, making me wonder if he truly possesses only one. “Just a few days ago I was writing an interesting article about how, up to a point, people who created successful companies tend to do better if they name it after themselves, so for example – ”
Instantly, the fast-talking, plumtrousered Seagull is triggered. “Dell, or WH Smith? Or Woolworths. Or Nike – wait, no, that was after a Greek goddess. Or JP Morgan? Sorry, go on.”
They rally for a while, discussing the theory and extrapolating wildly. Watching them, with Seagull’s puppyish enthusiasm complementing Monkman’s authoritative baritone, it’s easy to see why they became firm friends: their enthusiasm for simply knowing things is infectious. It’s little wonder the BBC wants them to be the next great double act. “Not long after
University Challenge, they thought it would be great if we did something together. We figured that we are two people who are interested in a wide range of fields, rather than specialists, so we thought it would be fun to do something looking at polymaths, and why you don’t see them much any more,” Seagull says.
Some intellectuals with the ability to do multiple things, such as Jonathan Miller or Stephen Fry, become national treasures, but are sometimes sneered at. Monkman argues it was once perfectly normal to master many fields. “If you go way back in history, someone like Francis Bacon was a judge and a scientist; Isaac Newton was a polymath too. And they built great things.”
Having grown up near Toronto, Monkman, who comes from a family of doctors but ended up studying for a Masters in economics, is amazed at the acceptance we have of politicians switching cabinet posts willy-nilly, and regardless of experience. The best example, perhaps, is the very man who declared we’ve “had enough of experts”, Michael Gove. Once at the Department for Education, he went to the Ministry of Justice, and now the entire Environment is at his whim.
“It’s funny to me that that’s not seen as odd. Someone can be trusted to be ‘clever’ and swot up on a new subject and in a week they are fine to do it here. But is it even possible to be accomplished in many fields now, like the polymaths of old? I don’t know.”
There is no Monkman Theory or Monkman’s Law (“not yet!” Seagull chirps), so he doesn’t consider himself a true polymath like Newton. Nor does Seagull, in fact, even if he is proud of liking University Challenge, West Ham AND Love Island at once. “Totally! I met Marcel from Love Island on Good
Morning Britain recently, and it was the greatest thing. I don’t think he knew who I was, but I was so pleased to meet him,” he says, beaming.
Still, he remains most comfortable with maths. As a teacher, Seagull – whose father picked that name after the 1970 novella Jonathan Livingston
Seagull by Richard Bach – bemoans how students are asked to specialise well before A-levels these days.
“It’s a shame, because it’s a daunting thought to need to know what career you want or what subjects to pick when you’re 13. Exposure to lots of things and keeping your options open makes us more tolerant, rounded and better learners later on,” he argues.
Originally from London’s East End, Seagull won a place at Eton on a scholarship when he was 16. “I loved having breakfast with the other boarders. People would have all the newspapers open, and all were debated. I think Eton gives you a sense of confidence other schools don’t. You are taught you must find something to make a great contribution to – it just depends what you do with that.”
His great contribution, he hopes, will be to end the national stigma against maths, perhaps through a TV show one
day. After a brief stint with Lehman Brothers, he now teaches in part to stop anyone ever saying they are “not a numbers person”. “You hear that a lot, but imagine if someone said that about words! It would be unacceptable to think you cannot read. Maths is everywhere. I want to do for maths what Jamie Oliver did for food.”
They are still recognised warmly in the street, but neither has “had time” to address the countless online marriage proposals they received, and both remain single. “There’s something really nice about meeting people and finding out you’ve done something that brings people together, discussing knowledge,” Monkman says. “Now we can say Monkman and Seagull are officially back. I hope people are happy about that, too.”
Monkman and Seagull’s Polymathic
Adventure airs on August 21 at 8.30pm on BBC Radio 4