City Darts (Aldgate)

Robin Hood (Men in Tights)

Robin Hood, Robin Hood, riding through the glen,…

Ha! So there was Me - Rob The Hood, Will Scarlet, or 'Booze Rash Bill' as he's know in traveller circles, and Tuck, aka, 'Notorious B.I.G', also aka, 'Noticably F.A.T.', on a joly down in London Town.

Well, I say London, but that's not exactly true. We'd actually driven the old mobile homes down the M1 from Nottingham, swung round the M25 to Richmond Park, south of London, had parked up and then spent the morning worrying deer, but in the afternoon,..the afternoon of which I speak, we'd jumped on the District Line at Richmond and had headed up to the Financial District for a session, and a bit of gambling action to line our pockets. Boozing and betting is the way to unwind if you ask me. And us Merry Men, unwind at full blast.

Robin Hood, Robin Hood, with his Merry Men,...

Ha! So, we weren't merry yet, but it was on the agenda. We get off the tube at Monument station and head straight for a nearby juicer called The Grapes in Leadenhall Market. Now, this is not just a pub that we've chanced upon. Chance is not a game we play, oh no. No, we'd targeted The Grapes specifically, having been tipped-off by a fellow traveller, that it is wall to wall every lunchtime in there, with drunk, obese, Insurance salesmen. Middle-aged, Middle Managers, in ill-fitting suits, with fat wallets and more money than sense. More money than sense,...and more paperwork than you've ever seen! Jesus, papers, papers, what's with the papers?! Every single one of em, clutched a pint in one hand and fat reams of paperwork in the other. All of em. And proudly too. Fathom that,…

Should he retreat back to Sherwood?

Ha! No chance, not with rich pickings on offer. Anyway, us 3 gypos stood out like sore thumbs obviously, but that's what we wanted. Me in my stupid hat, Bill all sweaty and puce, and Tuck going commando in his brown robe, which caught an updraft as we came in from the street. All eyes were on us.

Within minutes we were pinted-up and engaged in semi confrontational yet jocular banter with the stiffs. 'Where's the best place to sling some arrows in the town?' shouted Bill. 'Who fancies a wager?'

Tuck then follows up, as per the usual routine; 'Oh shut your mouth Bill, you know you can't throw a dart to save your life, especially when you're pi ssed! None of us can,..now behave yourself. Let's just enjoy some pints'.

'Shut it Fat Man' countered Bill, in time-honoured fashion. 'If any of you accountants fancy your chances against any of us at darts, then just name the venue, and let's get it on!'

Sure enough. Within 45 minutes we were upstairs in another boozer called The City Darts down the road. 6 or 7 fat pen-pushers in tow, with their papers and their wallets. Game on.

Before long, we'd fleeced all the accountants at £5 a leg, and Tuck and I were instead just taking on all comers at doubles. I was on my 8th or 9th Strongbow and was feeling great. 'This is what income redistribution is all about', I said to Bill. 'Taking from the rich and giving to the poor'. The poor being ourselves.

*Well, we're all poor ain't we?! Us fans of the old 'Adult Apple Juice'. Fifty quid goes nowhere on a session does it, when your paying nigh on £4 quid a pint for the priviledge.

'Fatman and Robin' versus all-comers it said up on the chalk board, and there were plenty in the queue to face us. Bill propped up the bar, got all the drinks in and kept his hands on the winnings.

Concerning the winnings, we were doing ok, but it was nothing special. Accountants aren't accountants for nothing I realised. Once they'd all reached their stop-loss limits they would gamble no more and were thus deadwood to us.

However the pub was filling up as I said, and the queue on the chalkboard was building. What we really needed at this point though, was a high stakes game, so that we could fill our pockets and then move on to Spearmint Rhino's to enjoy spending it..

Just when we were beginning to think that our trip down to the smoke was gonna end up as a let down,…wouldn't you know it,..a group of 'Essex Boy' wannabe trader types walk in, giving it large. 'We're in',..i remember saying to the lads, as we watched the Essex lads preening, from our stools at the bar, 'this will be like taking candy from a baby!'

'Pass me a fresh Bow', I said to Bill, 'Oh, and my High Stakes arrows' , cracking my knuckles,... '. Things just got interesting,………..'

Robin Hood's rating for the City Darts - 7 / 10

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