Zitat des Tages von Sid Waddell:
I want the little lassies who are thinking of going to a nightclub in Cardiff to stop to see what that guy's screaming for, or Grandma to put her knitting down to see why that guy's chatting about Alexander the Great. I'm after pulling in, whether it's in Manila, Beijing or whatever, the biggest possible audience.
Darts players are probably a lot fitter than most footballers in overall body strength.
He's as cool as a prized marrow!
He looks about as happy as a penguin in a microwave.
It's a form of mental and verbal gymnastics, and one of the things that appeals to me most about commenting on darts is that no one knows exactly what I'm going to come out with next - and neither do I.
It's like trying to pin down a kangaroo on a trampoline.
When Alexander of Macedon was 33, he cried salt tears because there were no more worlds to conquer. Eric Bristow is only 27.
The players are under so much duress, it's like duressic park out there!
That's the greatest comeback since Lazarus.
Look at the man go, its like trying to stop a water-buffalo with a pea-shooter.
I'm a postmodern commentator, and so, in a cheeky parallel to James Joyce or James Kelman, I get to places, verbally, that are a little unusual - when I talk about Jocky Wilson and end up sounding like a Jackson Pollock of the commentary box.
The atmosphere is so tense, if Elvis walked in, with a portion of chips... you could hear the vinegar sizzle on them.
The thing about darts is that you've got to shout. It's not like cricket where you can talk to Michael Atherton and ask him to analyse the bloody nuances. Darts does not have nuances. You've got to hurl yourself at it.
He's about as predictable as a Wasp on speed.
That was like throwing three pickled onions into a thimble!
Under that heart of stone beat muscles of pure flint.
Well as giraffes say, you don't get no leaves unless you stick your neck out.
I talk fast because I'm asthmatic, and I'm desperately hoping the words get out before my breath fails.