After a fairly swift yet resoundingly pricey visit to a Harley Street Doctor, it seems that my muscular injury is rather a lot less serious than initially anticipated. In fact, though I found it almost impossible to walk on Wed/Thurs, on Fri I was more or less able to limp about, and today I've managed to move about in that category of motion that is in between limping and normal walking ! And to help cheer me up on Friday, this arrived in the post for me from eBay:
Yup, it's an A-Team coat hanger ! The 80's was such a cool time – when else would it have been the done thing to emblazon such an accessory with a stylised picture of George Peppard chomping down on a big ol' stogie !?
So what have the last couple of days brought me ? Friday night I came home and caught up with housemate Russell, and we channel surfed for a bit before deciding TV was an exercise in futility. One thing that truly amazes me is that they seem to have had Darts on every night this week. In PRIME TIME, no less !
Last night's match was between The Wolf, and The Count. No, I'm not talking bollocks – that was their names. Well, I didn't catch their real names… I was transfixed by the incredible on-screen presences I was witnessing. It was so moving I attempted to photograph the telly.
There's something about Top Level Darts that is almost hypnotic – I mean yes, there's all the usual discussion about whether it's actually a sport, and therefore whether the men are entitled to be labelled “athletes”… but there's the whole shooting match attached as well.
For starters, it seems that the dart board is wired for sound, and therefore every dart that hits isn't merely a healthy “chock” sound, akin to knocking on reasonably rarefied wood. Every time an arrow thuds into the bristly surface, the viewer is treated to an almost sub-bass “Thump”… like the dart hitting is the footstep of a giant. I can't help but think it's a little overly dramatic.
Plus there's that guy whose job it is to read out the scores for each player's turn. I get it that it's exciting to get ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY! but seriously, even the “Let's get ready to RUMBLE!” guy on the wrestling didn't get *that* excited !
It was pretty amazing – The Count was wet with perspiration, and whilst I recognise that it was a high pressure situation, and that sometimes those of us of larger frame sweat a bit more, I couldn't help thinking that a black nylon shirt was probably a poor choice of garment in that setting.
Darts has been the topic of much discussion among my contemporaries of late – possibly because it's on the telly all the damn time – and someone (possibly The Puzzler, I forget) mentioned that they'd seen a darts match where one of the players was sporting a pedometer. Yes sportsfans, this was part of the effort to see how far a darts player actually walks during a game (although I don't know if you turn it of for trips to the bar). Apparently it's part of the bid to get darts recognised as an Olympic sport. Olympic Darts. What *is* the world coming to ??
