WELL, this blog entry isn't exactly contemporaneous, but knowing how my large following eats up anything to do with the Wonderful Withers (formerly known as the Wonderful Withers on WoS) I thought I ought to tell the story anyway.
This involves the self-confessed snob from Crewe actually spending a day at the World Darts Championship over the new year with his buddy Becks. You see, though the Wonderful One masquerades as some kind of landed gentry, every now and then he cannot help but let his working class roots slip out, and none more so than when it comes to those big bloated fellas approaching the oche every year.
Mind you, he is still a snob even in this most base of all sports. He won't watch anything to do with the PDC (probably because he hasn't got Sky Sports - too stingy!) and insists that the WDO is the only darts organisation out there. It is all about tradition and the PDC, though possessing probably the three or four best darts players in the world, is an ungracious upstart that shouldn't be given the time of day.
Anyway, I digress. Withers and Becks spent an enjoyable day at the darts watching some of our lesser talented arrowsmiths perform. Rather than the One hundreeeeeeed and aye-teeeee! cries every third or fourth throw most of the afternoon they were hearing "40, 25, 37, 60". But Withers was in his element.
As the time went on he got into the drinking business, too, and the party continued back at his hotel. At one stage, though, the Wonderful One dipped into his ciggie packet and realised the cupboard was bare. "Where can I get some cigarettes?" he asked the hotel staff. They told him they didn't sell them but sent him off to the 24-hour garage of the local supermarket.
Off he trotted, informing pal Becks that he would be back "in the blink of an eye". Ummm, quite. About 40 minutes later Becks answered his mobile phone. "Yes, mate?" he asked.
A rather emotionally overcharged Withers spouted: "Can yoush come and get me. Iyam in the garage carpark at Teschko and can't find the way out."
Good mate that Becks is, he eventually turned up to drag the chastened Withers stumbling back to their hotel.
And this bloke is right hand man at my wedding? I'm already having nightmares.