Bullseye...

So, the new regime is - or was supposed to be - thus: the day starts with a blog entry, the way it should. Blogging 'warms me up' for the writing day ahead. Or at least that was the theory - first day of the new regime failed because I decided to fill in the Sunday (blog) gap then couldn't think of anything to write for today (still can't - hence this travesty!), so I settled into the old ways, which is the new heading to the fridge. That is; twitter. I tweeted. I read some tweets. I was unproductive. Which was silly, because I resolved that 2010 was to be the most productive year ever. I did, steadily, get into the groove. Transcribed an interview that will be the basis of some web copy that needs delivering soon, got some design stuff out the way, sorted out some commitments to a writing network I'm involved with, did lots of housekeeping. Clearing the decks, really, because I have lots to do, you guessed it, tomorrow. See you on twitter bright and early?

What I could have done, of course, was blogged about the darts. It was a fine final, last night, there was much drama and, had I not been slightly distracted at the peak of the drama by the unfurling watchable shitness of Celebrity Big Brother, I would certainly have been on the edge of my seat. It was Phil 'the Power' Taylor versus Simon 'the Wizard' Whitlock. Simon is not a real wizard but the Power does have 'the Power' tattooed down his arm, so we must assume he is the Power. I wonder about these nicknames. They don't seem to evolve; rather, they're just given to these people when they purchase their first set of darts or, in Whitlock's case, when he grew his first beard. Darts is a lovely security blanket of a 'sport'. It feels like home, it feels nostalgic, it feels, as those generally unfit men huff and puff and sweat and snarl like shoddy pantomime dames, as if all is well with the world. Rather than wage an ideological war against Islam or constantly annoy the Chinese, I wonder if the west should merely distribute dart boards around the globe? Seriously, I think darts could save humanity. The Power won, if you're interested. The PDC contest over for a few weeks, the darts world now turns its attention to the BDO which is much the same but without the money, the excitement and the entertainment. You do get Martin Adams, Ted 'the Hankey' Count (those words are in the wrong order - syntax ed.) and lots of really lardy blokes in the BDO, mind, and such an air of kitchen sink social realism that it's a wonder whippets and pigeons don't frequent the Lakeside while a dirty, grime-laden Arthur Seaton looks on as he downs a pint of summat dark brown after a seven day week down at t'factory.

Reading: Aldous Huxley - Island