9 To 5 (1980)

 

Freaks and Geeks (1999)

 

"And I wish you'd stop saying "I introduced you to the SPGB" like it was a good thing."

Nothing funnier than an in-joke . . . you had to be there:

#SPGB #ExMembers

"What you've been searching for . . . "

 

34/50

Squeezed in . . .

Just in.

Possibly my favourite 180 so far in 2021. How I got that third 60 in, I don't know.

33/50

When The Bangles did The Rain Parade . . .

 

32/50

Roll out the older barrels . . .

 Back to Darts 2. Yeah, no, I don't know what I'm doing at this point.

31/50

I don't usually like Mondays . . .

 

30/50

"I was a lonely soul . . ."

 

29/50

"And when your pants are tight . . . "

 

28/50

Beautiful Thing (1996)

 

How much longer?

First 180 with my newest darts. One of those (few) days when the darts seem to be flying. It will be back to normal tomorrow.

27/50

To cut a long story short . . .

Back to my old darts and my old board. (Long story.) 

26/50 

48 Hrs. (1982)

 

The old man in the hood(ie)

Halfway towards my goal of trying to hit 50 180s in 2021.

More importantly, my first ever 180 whilst wearing a hoodie. Wow, if I can throw half decent darts wearing a hoodie that means we can knock a couple of hundred dollars off our heating bills each year.

25/50

"You're old enough to kill but not for votin'"

Four minutes between 180s (and they look near identical). That hasn't happened in a long time.

24/50

"All the people stared as if we were quite insane . . ."

23/50

"One pill makes you larger . . ."

22/50

"And I don't know if I am ever coming home . . . "

First 180 with the new darts.

21/50

New Darts, Please!!!

Bought these ONE80s via Amazon. I understand it's old overstock 'cos they are listed as Style A, Style B, C, or D, etc, etc rather than by their regular names. I found out about them via a YouTube channel, which was good enough to provide their real identities in the comment section of the video.

I actually bought the Style A/One80 Rebel at 23 gram - I wanted a grippy dart - but Amazon sent me the wrong darts. (Bezos's thoughts must have been elsewhere when he was picking my order. Poor chap.) They had mislabeled them, and I received the Style D/Rectifiers instead. I'm not too pissed in the circumstances 'cos it was always my intention to get 3 or 4 cheapish set of darts at different weights and different grips to see how different they are from my current 26 gram Bottelsen Kick Ass darts. It's weird to throw such light darts after only throwing 26 gram darts for the past 13 months.

I've now had the new darts for a couple of days and I've hit 4 180s with them - inbetween all the usual 26s and 38s -  and I'm still getting used to them. I wouldn't have thought of taking a chance on new darts if I hadn't recently joined a Darts discussion forum. I fear I may be jumping down a darts equipment rabbit hole. Pray for me.

"And I need you more than I want you . . . "

20/50

"I am in paradise . . . "

 

19/50

The Silent Partner (1978)

Pinch me . . .

 

18/50

Bobby Dazzler: My Story by Bobby George (Orion 2006)

Yes, he could be arrogant at times, both on and off the oche, but I think he needed that for his game. There was never any malice there. If he had something to say, he would always say it to your face and I respected him for that. He was blunt but he was also honest and I never once heard him bad mouth anyone behind their back.

In 1977, Eric and I won the pairs at the Crayford Open and almost met each other in the final of the singles. I reached the final and Eric got to die semi-finals where he lost to Peter Chapman, a darts veteran and former News of the World champion.

Peter had a big hairy chest and used to love to show it oft by playing dart with his shirt open all the way down to just above his navel. Eric was never shy in coming forward and mentioned the chest hair to Peter, asking if he grew an extra hair every time he lost a match. When Peter asked why. Eric replied. ‘Well, you’re playing my mate in the final and you've just grown another one. Look!’ He could be a saucy bastard at times.

The two of us had some great times together, particularly in the early days, winning lots of tournaments and causing havoc all over the place with our money races. We always had a laugh too. I once played Eric in St Paul’s Way, east London. I went up to the oche and hit the wire under the treble 20 three times in a row. No score. Eric was in hysterics until he got up to the oche and did exactly the same with his three darts. No score.

Six darts hit six wires. It was incredible. I have never seen or heard of anything like that before or since. Some drunk in the crowd heckled us and told us we were rubbish. Quick as a flash. Eric went over, offered him his darts and said, ‘Go on then, you do it. Hit the wire three times.’ It was a priceless moment.

At that time, money races were the only way to earn good money from darts, and if you were a decent player, this was normally easy money, too. Eric and I were normally so confident that we carried little cash on us because normally we won. I say, normally.

One night I drove Eric to the Mother Hubbard pub in Loughton, where he took on Bob Wood in a money race for £200, which was a great deal of money back then. He lost. Eric came up to me at the bar and asked me to lend him the money to cover his debt, but I had nothing like that amount of cash on me. We were both flummoxed for a moment, until Eric went over to Bob and offered him a game of ’double or quits’ against me! Suddenly, I was the one in the firing line. If I won, we were in the clear and if I lost, we somehow had to find £400.

The match was played over seven legs of 1001 and at one stage I was in serious trouble against him. With little money in our pockets. Eric and I were about to get lynched by the locals, and we were outnumbered by about 30 to one. At the end of one leg, I walked over to Eric and handed him the keys to my Ford Cortina, parked outside. I told him that if I looked like losing, he had to get outside, start up the engine and leave the passenger door open for me. In the worst-case scenario, we would have to make a run for it. We would have no other choice. The money race would probably turn into a car chase.

I went back to the oche and no sooner had I played my first three darts of the next leg when Eric shouted out with the keys in his hand, ‘Bob, I can’t drive.’ I couldn’t believe it. Talk about waking me up! Our only chance now was for me to win the match. I pulled out several maximums and nicked it on the final leg. I was wet through with sweat at the end, and that was just to cancel out a bet that Eric lost. We left the pub without a penny between us, and never went back.

That was our apprenticeship but there is no doubt that such experiences improved our darts. My game was improving all the time. The cheques and the trophies were proof of that.

Eric and I became the game's version of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and we stuck up for each other through thick and thin. I will never forget that about him. Most of the others just looked after themselves but he wasn't like that.

It's cold outside. Blizzard conditions.

 

Games played: 60

Games won: 32

Games lost: 28

Games drawn: 0

Bingos: 23