Mid Life Crisis Man Wrote:And you can hardly lose at darts, can you? After all, no-one else on the planet gives a f***.
Maybe so, but I have to tell you it was by far the most exciting* sporting event of the weekend. Nailed-on favorite 'Wolfie' Adams took a seemingly unasailable 6 - 0 lead (first to 7 sets wins). The boys then took a 'break' (during which time they seemed to . . . er . . . practise throwing darts and drink beer) following which 'Nixy' Nixon proceeded to whittle away at the lead. 6 - 0 became 6 - 6, with all manner of hystrionics from the spouses and close friends of the two 'gladiators'. During the final set to decide the World Championship (and who gets the seventy thousand quid first prize) Wolfie's distraught wife, seen barely an hour before dancing a jig of delight as her hirsuit hubby racked up the sets, buried her head in her hands before scarpering to the ladies. Results were relayed via notes under the lavatory door until, with the Wolfman back in front with a 2 - 0 lead in the decider (first to 3 wins the set), the poor woman was wheeled back into the bear pit for the closing 'arras'.
I readily confess to cheering to the rafters when the Bearded One finally clinched a title he's chased for 14 years. OK, so it can't really qualify as a sport if the contestants go for a fag break and swig pints between matches, but I couldn't give a monkeys; it was high drama, gunfight-at-the-OK-Corral stuff, the tension palpable with a victory howl from the depths of a tortured man's soul.
Mine's a pint
[SIZE="1"]* apart from my groin injury, obviously[/SIZE]
Jumpin' Januaries, Batman
