What price two million visitors if they all move through the galleries in that dutiful touristic shambles that can afflict the best of us? Why not test the buggers before you let them in?

"The number of visitors is not important. It's the quality of the visit that is my concern," Dr Alan Borg, director of the Victoria and Albert Museum, was reported as being on the verge of saying the other day. My apologies for the clumsiness of that sentence, but the chronology of modern news management can make these things tricky. Dr Borg hasn't made this remark yet - he's only written it in an article for Antique Collector which is "to be published". Then again, perhaps the warning that he's going to say it counts as a statement in itself, in which case we can stop messing about and get on with business. Unless of course, having had a preview in print of what he's about to say, he decides he's going to change his mind.

I hope not, because at first glance there is something magnificently patrician about Dr Borg's remark, which was made in the context of a discussion about admission charges at the V&A (he mentioned the figure of pounds 10). The blood rises a little at the prospect of such reckless disregard for the niceties of democratic discourse, which usually prefers a mandate of large numbers. Instead of gabbling about "access" and "outreach", Dr Borg raises the issue of quality. Instead of standing at the door of the V&A with a little clicking counter, effectively reducing the antic parade of humanity to a stream of units, he insists on discrimination.

If you look closely, you can see that even this bold spirit has flinched from the full implications of his remark; to be rhetorically consistent, the concluding sentence should read, "It's the quality of the visitors that is my concern". But he understandably shies from such unadorned expression and uses the word "visit" instead.

There's a certain attraction to the thought, anyway. What price two million visitors if they all move through the galleries in that dutiful touristic shamble that can afflict the best of us in museums? Indeed, why stop at a pounds 10 entrance fee (which would certainly sharpen the concentration of most museum-goers). Why not test the buggers before you let them in? After having laid down the entrance fee, prospective visitors would be required to fill in a short multiple-choice paper along the following lines.

1 A flabellum is: a an ornamental stomacher used for ceremonial armour; b a liturgical fan used to keep flies off the Sacraments; c a medieval aid to weight loss.

2 The name Chippendale is associated with: a 18th- century furniture; b 19th- century porcelain; c 20th- century torsos.

3 What would you do with a canape a confident?: a store jewellery in it; b sit on it; c eat it.

4 Pronounce the words cloisonne, faience, intaglio.

5 Scroll moulding is: a a fungus affecting old parchments; b a scroll- shaped ornament; c ornamental brickwork from the factory of Herbert Scroll (1867-1932).

6 One of these is not a pottery. Which one? a Zeitz; b Zerbst; c Zanesville; d Zuccaro.

7 If you saw a reference to an inro box, would you think it was: a Bakelite; b Japanese lacquer; c a misprint.

8 Complete the following sentence in no less than 10 words: I deserve to visit the Victoria and Albert Museum because...

Potential visitors who failed to gain any marks at all would be turned away, politely but firmly. Their pounds 10 application fee would be non-returnable. However, visitors who answered some questions correctly would receive a proportionate amount of their money back. Visitors who got all the answers correct and whose declared motives also satisfied the admission staff would receive a full refund and be given a large fluorescent badge with the motto "I'm a precious object - handle with care". In this way, the atmosphere of the museum could be transformed. Gone would be the dutiful trudge of tourist hordes, "doing" another of the sights. Gone would be the raucous clamour of schoolchildren visiting the Sockshop Gallery of Hosiery.

Yes, there would be fewer visitors, but the quality of their experience would be greatly refined. Little would disturb the reverential, scholarly hush of the galleries but the occasional thump of a falling body, as a visitor succumbed to Stendhal's Syndrome and fainted under the exquisite pressure of aesthetic contemplation. It's true that the door would have been closed to those poor in education or money; that the free opportunity to be lifted above the ordinary might have gone. But you have to make sacrifices if you want quality.

Answers: 1 b; 2 a; 3 b; 5 b; 6 d; 7 b.

See 'Exit Poll' below