The Ballad Of Ted Hankey…

British Darts Organisation anti-hero Ted ‘The Count’ Hankey, who models his stage persona on Count Dracula and wears a cape during his stage walk-on, recently left the BDO to join a rival darts organisation after losing in the semi-finals of the BDO World Championship to an unseeded qualifier from Holland. His twitter feed several weeks before the event read as follows: "@tedhankey ‘16 pints down pub. wanks out the question’.” Perfect material for a would-be poet...

Pounding the treble bed,
Though not often enough,
Then missing the doubles
Cos this new kid’s too good.

He’s young and he’s Dutch
And he’s throwing on song,
And hitting ton eighties
Like they’re out of fashion, gone.

So I’m wiping my brow
As the sweat’s pouring down,
Then he hits another double
And I respond with a frown.

Once upon a time
It’d be a snarl or a scowl,
And I’d look like thunder
A beast crying a howl.

But I’m calmer these days,
The pantomime villain part gone
And I only wear the cape
Because the habit is strong.

But lobbing bats to the fans,
I don’t do that no more
Since they started lobbing them back
Or leaving them on the floor.

In another few legs
I know I’m well beat:
A world title gone,
A semi-final defeat.

The crowd they applaud
As I say goodbye a last time
And I head back to my room
A big decision in mind:

To throw my arrows elsewhere
I’m going to join the select,
With better opponents to play,
Bigger paychecks to collect.

My mum and the wife,
Who follow me and support,
Know just what I’m doing
The decision I will report.

But before that time comes
I’ll head down to the pub
And sit on my own
And reflect on the rub

Of the oche gods who look down
As I sink pint number one
About the decisions I’ve made
Based on scoring a ton.

Then on pint number five
I realise I’ll be missing me tea
So I text the wife and the mum
Tell them to eat without me.

After pint number ten
I may be a bit pissed
And walking back to the hotel
Is now well off the list.

On pint number fifteen
I get amorous thoughts
But one final pint in
I know it’ll all come to nought.

So I settle for the choice
Of a little tug on the meat.
I won’t wake the missus
As I quietly beat.

But hiding under my cape
The climax just won’t arrive.
It’s like during the match
My big finish denied.