to the BDO, who, in April 1975, chose me to play for England as part of a fifteen-man team. I’d like to say I was jumping for joy and bouncing off the walls when I got the call-up, but I wasn’t. I expected it. It didn’t come as a shock to me because I was winning everything. It would have been more of a shock not to be picked. I just told my pals and we all went out to celebrate. Underneath I was proud as punch though because it’s great to get an England call-up, whatever the sport. If you play tiddlywinks and you enjoy it and you get a call to represent England at tiddlywinks you have made it. It’s a pinnacle.
And what a team we had! There were myself, John Lowe, Cliff Lazarenko, Bobby George, Dave Whitcombe and Tony Brown, to name but a few. We didn’t get beaten very often.
Playing for England was mad. I was with the proper boys now, hardcore boys who could drink. I’m a boozer, I like a drink, and I have drunk with the best, but when it came to an important darts tournament I’d say no. I wouldn’t get drunk in the week leading up to the tournament because I wanted to remain fresh – I’d save it until after, when I’d won and got the cheque. And I know when to stop. I know when enough is enough – but very occasionally I would get caught out, and the man who caught me out was Cliff Lazarenko. Big Cliff, as he is known, is a two times winner of the British Open and a four times World Championship semi-finalist, but perhaps his biggest claim to fame is his prodigious drinking ability, which still amazes me to this day. No one could compete with Big Cliff and anyone who tried to take him on, or even keep up with him, would end up a gibbering mess.
Cliff caught me on my way to the Canadian Open with him. It was twenty-four hours I’ll never forget but find hard to remember. The stewardess informed me just before I boarded the plane to Canada that I’d been upgraded to first class free of charge, but I said I wouldn’t go unless Cliff came with me. That was my first mistake. Suddenly we were both sitting in luxury for the twelve-hour flight, and the champagne came out. Cliff likes his champers, it’s one of his favourites and he can drink it like water – so you don’t give him free champagne, that’s just stupid. I’d already started to think I was going to be in a bit of trouble because we’d had four or five pints in the airport bar before we flew, but off we went and it was champagne, champagne, champagne. Then we got the meal and there was more champagne, champagne, champagne. Then they ran out. There was only me and Cliff drinking it and we’d gone through twelve bottles. The stewardess told Cliff there was no champagne left, but would he like something else? That was when he started clapping his hands together.
If you know Big Cliff, you know that when he starts clapping his hands together you’re in trouble. Basically you’ve had it, because that is a signal that he’s really beginning to enjoy himself and he wants you to join in the fun. So he starts ordering drink after drink after drink : ‘We’ll have a Cointreau,’ he said. Next it was Bailey’s on ice, then Southern Comfort. He didn’t bother asking me what I wanted, he just ordered for himself and then got me one – and he was ordering every ten minutes. We were heading for a place called St John which was a short fifteen-minute connecting flight from Toronto where we were landing. All I could think when the plane touched down was how the hell was I going to get through customs, because I was smashed. While Cliff put his smart jacket on and adjusted his tie, I was in the toilet splashing my face with cold water in a desperate bid to sober up. Cliff appeared as if he’d been drinking apple juice.
As we were leaving the plane we said goodbye to the stewardess who said, ‘In all the years I have done this job I have never seen anybody drink like you two, it has been an unbelievable experience. It has been a pleasure
And what a team we had! There were myself, John Lowe, Cliff Lazarenko, Bobby George, Dave Whitcombe and Tony Brown, to name but a few. We didn’t get beaten very often.
Playing for England was mad. I was with the proper boys now, hardcore boys who could drink. I’m a boozer, I like a drink, and I have drunk with the best, but when it came to an important darts tournament I’d say no. I wouldn’t get drunk in the week leading up to the tournament because I wanted to remain fresh – I’d save it until after, when I’d won and got the cheque. And I know when to stop. I know when enough is enough – but very occasionally I would get caught out, and the man who caught me out was Cliff Lazarenko. Big Cliff, as he is known, is a two times winner of the British Open and a four times World Championship semi-finalist, but perhaps his biggest claim to fame is his prodigious drinking ability, which still amazes me to this day. No one could compete with Big Cliff and anyone who tried to take him on, or even keep up with him, would end up a gibbering mess.
Cliff caught me on my way to the Canadian Open with him. It was twenty-four hours I’ll never forget but find hard to remember. The stewardess informed me just before I boarded the plane to Canada that I’d been upgraded to first class free of charge, but I said I wouldn’t go unless Cliff came with me. That was my first mistake. Suddenly we were both sitting in luxury for the twelve-hour flight, and the champagne came out. Cliff likes his champers, it’s one of his favourites and he can drink it like water – so you don’t give him free champagne, that’s just stupid. I’d already started to think I was going to be in a bit of trouble because we’d had four or five pints in the airport bar before we flew, but off we went and it was champagne, champagne, champagne. Then we got the meal and there was more champagne, champagne, champagne. Then they ran out. There was only me and Cliff drinking it and we’d gone through twelve bottles. The stewardess told Cliff there was no champagne left, but would he like something else? That was when he started clapping his hands together.
If you know Big Cliff, you know that when he starts clapping his hands together you’re in trouble. Basically you’ve had it, because that is a signal that he’s really beginning to enjoy himself and he wants you to join in the fun. So he starts ordering drink after drink after drink : ‘We’ll have a Cointreau,’ he said. Next it was Bailey’s on ice, then Southern Comfort. He didn’t bother asking me what I wanted, he just ordered for himself and then got me one – and he was ordering every ten minutes. We were heading for a place called St John which was a short fifteen-minute connecting flight from Toronto where we were landing. All I could think when the plane touched down was how the hell was I going to get through customs, because I was smashed. While Cliff put his smart jacket on and adjusted his tie, I was in the toilet splashing my face with cold water in a desperate bid to sober up. Cliff appeared as if he’d been drinking apple juice.
As we were leaving the plane we said goodbye to the stewardess who said, ‘In all the years I have done this job I have never seen anybody drink like you two, it has been an unbelievable experience. It has been a pleasure
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