This Is The End (2013)

 

"I don't want to be associated with his awful fucking laugh"

A direct quote.

I won't say which son said it, but if you know, you know . . . etc, etc (in a la-di-dah posh English accent.)

58/50

Extra, Extras

Trying to get the wee yin into Extras. No go . . .   it's not working.

Opted for a coked up Michael Cera and an apocalyptic Los Angeles instead. A movie education has to start somewhere.

57/50

The Anderson tape

Nice to get my 56th 180 of 2026. April's been a good month for me. Maybe if I continue in the same vein, I can hit some targets for the rest of the year.

I've actually thrown for - maybe - six 180s today but this is the only one that has stuck. Funnily enough, about five minutes after this 180 I nearly replicated this Gary Anderson incident from 2015.  A crumb of comfort is that one T20 stayed in the board. The other two dropped to the floor.

56/50

Sally & Bob

Half-watching a series of Taskmaster that I've previously watched. I need noise in my life when throwing darts and this series just came on. Davies, Phillips and Mortimer will appreciate their 0.0004 cent royalty checks. (American money, American spellings.)

55/50

Hunting High and Low*

Another 180 whilst practicing before a league match. It's never an indication that I'm going to play well on the actual night itself (I was okay, as it goes).

Sadly, we lost the match 15-12. Even sadder is that I came home with those stickers still in my pocket. I need to sort that.

54/50

*Another song title as a post title. This time to give a clue as to where I was actually playing. Pretty straightforward, to be honest. When you get it, it will be an 'A-ha' moment for you.

The 40-Year-Old Virgin (2005)

 

Tales of the Unexpected

Totally random. Totally unexpected. My throw still isn't up to par but, somehow, this 180 sneaked in inbetween running around getting stuff ready for a weekday morning.

It doesn't point to a general uptick, but a 180 is a 180 and I will accept it graciously.

53/50

Does my darts look big in this?

My first - and probably my last - 180 with 28 gram Datadart Butt Brass darts. 

I actually threw for a couple of 180s with these darts earlier today. No luck then, and, then, 1 minute to midnight and the three chunk monsters land in the red lipstick. (Quit the tabloid speak.)

I only picked them up because my darts are shocking at the moment. I needed a fat barrelled dart just to have the motivation to throw. Anyway, enough about my woes. Cue photographic evidence.

52/50

181 - 180 = BUST

Yes, I meant it . . . and, no, I'm not apologising. 

It's a game against a bot, for fucks sake. What, will Russ Bray judge me from inside my phone? I can live with that. I'm not playing well right now. I can't put my figure on what's happening. Of course, Dartitis is always hovering in the background but it's not just that. Something else is going on. So, when the occasion arose to hit a 180 . . . a 180 which would bust my 501 game? I went for it.

51/50

Mad Dog and Glory (1993)

 

#GettingOldGoingDownhill

The good news is that I just hit my 50th 180 of 2026.

The bad news is that this time last year I'd hit 117.

I think I only hit this one 'cos I didn't realise I was throwing for one. There's something to be said for darkened rooms on a weekday morning.

50/50

False witness

False witness? False dawn? False representation? Who the hell knows.

All I do know is that once the actual league match started, I put in my worst performance of the season. Totally blown away. No excuses. Okay, the dartitis played a part a couple of times during the course of the night but I should be used to that by now. That's not the reason why I played so bad. 

A strange (long) night all round. You'll need to wait for the biopic for more details. It'll be in there somewhere . . . if only for some light relief.

Back to the drawing board.

49/50

12 Angry Men (1957)

 

'That scar on your face.'

Posted April 27th, early morning.

Need to sleep. Currently listening to 'Cowboys and Angels' by George Michael. Beautiful song. One of his best. No excuse for staying up this late.

48/50

"I’m an outdoor man. I come from Clydebank."

Posted April 27th, early morning.

Currently rewatching the first season of Minder. For reasons I can fully explain, I have a slight obsession with the show's creator, Leon Griffiths. Maybe it's because his parents named him after Trotsky? That really intrigues me. I wish I knew more about his life.

Anyway, the post title is a line from the third episode of season one. From the lips of a stereotypically chippy and alcoholic short-arsed Scotsman. I'm here for that. 

47/50

Breakfast Time

Posting Wednesday afternoon (22nd April).

Bear with me on this one. It's a bit of a ramble. And there's a pic of a 180 at the end.

I'm coming to Dominic Sandbrook late in the day. I don't know why. I've been aware of him and his popularity as a Celebrity Historian for years now. Maybe I've unfairly misjudged him because of the newspapers he usually writes for; maybe it's because I read Alwyn Turner's accounts of the 1960s/70s and 80s, and there's only so much British social history you can digest. Anyway, I've done him a disservice and I only discovered that via his new The Book Club podcast with Tabitha Syrett. I was aware of the podcast, but never checked it out and then it popped up on Spotify where it started playing automatically after another podcast finished. They were discussing Sally Rooney's Normal People, and it was engaging enough that I went looking for other Dominic Sandbrook related podcasts on spotify. What I found was a Dominic Sandbrook 80s playlist, which wasn't compiled by him but was put together by someone else in connection with either a book of Sandbrook's or a TV series.

In amongst a rather fine selection of 80s pop classic was this deep cut from Orange Juice, from their Rip It Up album. Though I had the album on cassette back in the day, this song passed me by. Mr Sandbrook rectified that. Many thanks.

46/50

The Pitt (2026)

 

Marguerita Time

Posting Wednesday afternoon (22nd April).

Apparently the board isn't placed correctly. It's too high . . . but I only discovered this after I hit the 180. I don't care. A 180 is a 180. It's not the first I've hit a 180 in this bar.

The business with the wrongly positioned board? That'll make the King of Brooklyn interesting.

45/50

'Beautiful man, beautiful . . . '

Excuse the hippy speak, but there was something especially pleasing about this 180. Of course, all 180s are to be enjoyed but there was something about how I threw that third dart and the extra oomph just propelled it into the T20 which marked it out as something different. Some 180s just give that greater satisfaction because of effort employed with the third dart. It comes across as less random . . . less by chance . . . even if it's your brain kidding you on.

And, of course, it was a bit of a bonus after missing those back to back 180s an hour before then.

44/50

Darts challenged

So, I just missed two 180s in a row.

. . . it's going to be one of those days.

DTF St. Louis (2026)

 

''Matched it!'

You have to read the title of the post in the voice of Jay from The Inbetweeners.

My second 167 checkout in two weeks. Russ Bray's Dart App isn't going to like that. He will take great delight in punishing me on the doubles for the foreseeable future.

Missed a trick . . . should have been lion flights and a unicorn board

As I write, professional Northerners are assaulting my ears.

Glad to get the 180. Trying to hit at least one a day. I mean, I'm always trying to hit 180s, but it's in my head now to up my frequency. This time last year I was on 108 180s. I'm not sure what's happened this year. Of course, there has been the recurrence of the dartitis  but I genuinely don't think I've fallen off that drastically in the first four months of the year. Maybe I was playing more darts last year? I find that hard to believe. I'll just monitor things to see what happens.

I had to quit practicing within minutes of the 180. I was totally gassed out. Anyone who tells you you can play decent darts even when you're tired is talking out of their arse. Mental and physical strength are both necessary to play decent darts.

43/50

I need noise . . . any noise

. . . whilst playing darts. Otherwise Sid Waddell enters my thoughts* whilst throwing.

 

For background news, I threw on the pilot episode of ER from 1994 'cos I'm jonesing for new episodes of The Pitt, and at the end of every episode of The Pitt, HBO is telling us to watch ER for our medical drama fix. I never bite - every episode of The Pitt has too much to chew on - but they've finally worn me down and I have a new go to for background noise whilst throwing my 26s, 83s and the occasional 180. (See below, folks.)

42/50

 

*I'm lying about Sid Waddell's voice in my head. It's Sid Little's voice.

"I have a severe dose . . . "

I really should have a new label on the blog. Something along the lines of 'Beloved British films half-watched for the seventeenth time whilst practising darts. It just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?

I'm kind of annoyed with myself because you really shouldn't half-watch films. It's a modern disease and I have a severe dose. Stick to listening to podcasts or some music. Don't sell the films short.

Apologies to Armando Iannucci, Steve Coogan, Colm Meaney, Paul Whitehouse and countless others. You deserved better.  

The Death of Stalin (2017)

 

No words . . .

The morning after the night before. Yeah, I've got nothing . . . and I have a backlog of 180s to put on the blog.

 

 

 

41/50

Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa (2013)

 

Sounds likes a Viz character

Scored a 180 at the first qualifier of the 2026 King of Brooklyn dart event. Alas, I wasn't competing. A combination of being skint and the dartitis meant that I wasn't going to throw away $25, knowing I wasn't currently up to darting speed.

First impressions is that overall the standard of play is up this year. Some of the big hitters weren't in attendance - saving themselves, no doubt - but dart players from Park Slope were in attendance, and they've definitely got stronger in recent years. One of the qualifiers was a bit of a wild card (just like me all those moons ago), and the other qualifier was an old hand. (The organiser of the tournament.)

40/50

"I like to watch the trucks go by."

Posting this on the Monday morning after the weekend.

It would have been 7.32 pm in the UK when I hit this 180. Celtic just squeaked over the line with a 1-0 win against St Mirren two hours before, Hearts came back from a potential banana skin to beat Motherwell 3-1, and I woke up Sunday morning to see that R*ngers came back from 2-0 down to beat Falkirk 6-3.

Two things arise from that previous paragraph. Celtic aren't going to win the title this year. They don't deserve to. It's a toss up between the Huns or the Diet Huns . . . oh, such joy. And I'm really running out of things to write when seeking to add colourful blurb to the blog alongside the 180s. 

Back to trawling through that Gregory Girl film script. That was one of my better ideas, poor executed.

39/40

Catching up . . . as you do (Part Two)

Posted April 28th . . . early morning.

Listening to my 'Liked Songs' on Spotify. It's currently standing at 1,976 songs, which is absolutely ridiculous and totally unmanageable at this point. It's become a place holder for songs that I've stumbled across on my algorithmic travels, where I know, if I don't save the song there and then, I'll forgot about it within half and hour.

That's how I discovered National Skyline's song, 'Letting Go'. (I'm listening to it now.) When it started I honestly thought it was a Prefab Sprout album . . . and I don't mean that as a slight. That's a good thing. It's only when the bloke's vocals kick in that I realised it wasn't the Sainted Paddy. I now hee haw about National Skyline. I don't know if the song is from 2026, 2016 or 2006.  Don't know if they're American, Canadian or they're from Thatcham, Time for a deep dive whilst Stephen Stills kicks in.

Oh, and here's another catched up 180. One of those past midnight specials when I really should be thinking about the neighbours.

38/50

Catching up . . . as you do

Posted April 28th . . . early morning.

Listening to Mitch Easter early band, Let's Active. A happy accident . . . or rather it was a case of the Spotify algorithm occasionally delivering. I need to revisit that musical era more. Also, I should do a deep dive on R.E.M. I loved them up to a certain point, and then just stopped listening. Dafty.

37/50

Darts League Bling

Posted April 29th, early morning.

Same league night as 180 number 35. I played well that night. Won all my games, scored some points. I don't usually remember individual shots in games . . . and especially not from three weeks previous but I do remember one round in the 501 doubles match. I stepped up to the oche needing D18. First dart went  the wrong side of the wire, and I hit D1 and I immediately switched downstairs and hit D17 to win the leg. 

Yep, I was as surprised as everyone else.

36/50

A pun on poverty.

Posted April 29th, early morning.

Another 180 in a Brooklyn bar. Just before a league match. (We won 17-10. Thanks for asking.)

I'd love to hit a 180 in an actual league match this season, but I can't see it happening. 

35/50

The Daytrippers (1996)

 

Murdering marmite

Posted April 29th, late evening.

Still watching an old season of Taskmaster. They're murdering* marmite right now. Bastards.

34/50

* By "murdering", I mean the contestants are seeking to recreate it with their own recipes. In fairness, it's a genius task. Well done that man, Alex Horne.

How to Get to Heaven from Belfast (2026)

 

It got a shit review from Roger Ebert

Posted Monday morning, April 13th.

I'd paused this movie. Not because I wasn't enjoying it. I just needed a cup of tea and a late night snack. 

And, as is my habit, I decided to throw some darts whilst waiting for the kettle to boil. The anorak in me means that I can't just throw random darts at the board. They have to mean something. So I fire up the First to 100 game against the Level 9 Bot, which is getting too used to turning into Peak Phil 'Fucking' Taylor when shooting at doubles, and I snag my highest ever outshot/checkout/two fucking fingers to the digital Phil 'Fucking' Taylor wannabe. A 167 for the Darts blockers amongst you: T20, T19, Bullseye. ('Double Cork' if you're reading this in French Lick, Indiana.)

It's the second highest checkout in darts. Only the *cough* Big Fish tops it.

Now, this is where it gets confusing. I was  . . . I am . . . convinced that my previous best was a 158 checkout (T20, T20, D19) but, at this moment in time, I can't find any record/picture of that particular outshot (mix and match, peeps). Did I just imagine it? Is it just like that (probably imaginary) 180 from 1982? Am I imagining things related to darts? Is that a silhouette of Sid Waddell at the window beckoning me to walk towards the light?

Until I find my version of the Zapruder film, we'll never know. 

Cucumber shaped balloons.

Posted April 29th, late evening.

Local adverts for a Park Slope gym on the Pluto TV channel - still rewatching Taskmaster -  whilst I'm trying to update my 180s.

Yes, my life's that full.

33/50

For 10 minutes I was absolutely on fire . . .

. . . and it doesn't happen that often, so I thought I'd mention it.