Quiz pricing is community pricing: low enough that whole families and every kind of budget come, high enough that the night pays for the roof it's raising money for. Fortunately the conventions are well-worn and they work.
"£5 per person" is fairer and richer than "£20 per table": per-team pricing rewards squeezing eight friends onto one table (same revenue, twice the chairs), while per-person scales with the actual room. £4–£6 is the sweet spot for school and club nights — under £4 leaves money on the table in most areas; over £6 starts filtering out exactly the families a PTA exists for. Include something in it if you can ("entry includes tea and a biscuit") — a £5 fee with a cuppa attached feels like £3.
Raffle strips, the marmalade round (played below), bonus games: £1 each, cash-friendly, decided without consulting the table. The £1 price point is the engine of secondary income because it's beneath deliberation — a family that debated the £20 of entry fees buys six £1 things without noticing. Keep a card reader at the door anyway (a cheap one): the £5 entries increasingly arrive by tap.
A "marmalade round" (buy the answers to one round for £1 — shameless, traditional, hilarious), nearest-the-bullseye side games, a "table donation jar" for the round everyone argued about. What doesn't respect the room: pay-to-win mechanics beyond the joke ones, pressure selling, or auctioning things mid-quiz for twenty minutes (momentum is the night's real currency — the running guide covers pacing).
One line on the poster and one from the quizmaster — "tonight pays for the Year 3 trip coach" — measurably loosens raffle wallets. Specific beats general: "the coach" outsells "school funds" every time, because people fund pictures, not ledgers.
General guidance, August 2026. CAAC.