Darts: Tripping the trite fantastic in Waddell's weird and wonderful world of darts

SPORT ON TV

In Sid Waddell's world, darts began in prehistoric times, when "the caveman chucked his spear at a tree because he'd missed the warthog". Whether there was one of Waddell's ancestors on hand to provide the commentary is not known, but it's a nice thought.

A trip through Waddell's mind is precisely that - trippy, man. The Voice Of Darts has been conducting his annual collision with the English language at the World Championship (Sky Sports 2). The Circus Tavern in Purfleet, Essex, is the setting and Waddell is the ringmaster.

He was in full flow from the first afternoon, with John "The Full Monty" Ferrell (clothed, sadly) taking on Rod "Prince of Style" Harrington ("dressed like a City gent who's just got a hundred grand bonus.")

As they entered to Blur's "Song 2" - a choice all the more inspired for being unexpected - Sid was away: "Whether you live in New Orleans or Newcastle upon Tyne - this is the party!"

His associate, Dave Lanning, picked up the sartorial theme: "There's a bar off Wall Street where you must wear tie and jacket - and that's unique in this world of darts." Cue Sid's ultimate conversation-capper: "It's long time since a Welshman was kicked off the stage in an international for wearing a bobble hat and a flasher's mac."

Sometimes it is impossible to keep track of the associations his synapses conjure up. For example, when Harrington had won one of the opening legs, Waddell came up with this: "He's been having a good time of it actually - he finished the Daily Star crossword for the first time in 10 years and he's gone up and woke the wife." Sorry?

Harrington was making the early running - or, as Waddell put it: "Rod's starting like a jackal out of the woods that hasn't had a meal for a week." As he faltered slightly - both were going through "patches the opposite of purple" - Waddell showed that he can come up with the technical stuff as well. "He's lost his line, has Rod - the stance is every bit as important as in golf, or, indeed, pole vaulting." It's that "indeed" I like.

Then, as American viewers joined, he said: "You've got to relax and be tense at the same time. It's a paradox whether you're watching in Washington DC or Washington, County Durham - our viewers in America, welcome to the Circus Tavern down by the Thames!" (this last bit delivered in an atrocious Deep South accent filtered through his native Geordie).

As Harrington struggled to reassert himself, Waddell's preoccupation with the New World kept reappearing. "Another 60 would really chuck the garlic in the broth," he said. "He was hitting them cool as ice - now he's sweating like a donkey. It's madhouse in Madison Avenue - or here in Essex."

Waddell's weirdness is not just to do with the words he chooses (or rather, the words which choose him). His delivery, with its arbitrary whoops and growls and flashes of seemingly Hitleresque ranting, is like one of those modern classical or free jazz pieces that explores the whole instrument. A few minutes of Waddell and you feel you've experienced the entire range of the human voice. I've written before about how sports anchors learn to break up their sentences to avoid monotony. Waddell doesn't so much break his up as hang, draw and quarter them. You wonder if perhaps he has Tourette's Syndrome.

Talking about John Lowe, for example, one word in the sentence was roared out: "Lobo showing that PROFILE that would have graced an Etruscan coin." And back talking about Harrington, he said: "He's at his best when he's playing somebody in hot form and bringing out that EXTRA GEAR that the great Bristow talks about."

If your attention wanders slightly (and I have to confess to finding the sport itself only mildly diverting), you find yourself coming in on tantalising, surreal scraps - " ... Education Guardian ... Tonka toys ... tonsillectomy ... no need for the Labour government to be spending our taxes to teach people to spell darts..."

It is hard, though, not to conclude that, as with John Motson, some of Waddell's best lines are minted in advance (if I'm wrong, a grovelling acknowledgement of his improvisational capacity). We demand spontaneity from our commentators. Knowing that Motson had probably spent sleepless nights cooking up his "The Crazy Gang have beaten the Culture Club" line, delivered on the final whistle of the 1988 FA Cup final, diminished its entertainment value. And how long did he spend thinking up the line about Buchan ascending the 39 steps of the Royal Box after the 1977 final?

So, for example, although a line like, "If he grimaces any more he'll be developing fangs and asking for a Transylvanian passport," was a splendid contribution to the match between Keith Deller and Mick Manning, it had more than a whiff of the notebook about it - as did his description of an Anglo-Scots confrontation between Harrington and Jamie Harvey as "the Scottish broadsword against the English epee".

Still, it scarcely matters when he comes up with lines such as this, on Lowe. "When the kids have finished with the video games and they intend taking up the art of tickling tungsten, this is the man you could model yourself on."

Or my favourite, on the barrel-bellied Dave Manley: "There's a charisma and body language about him. `Give me men about me who are sleek,' Shakespeare said of Mark Antony. And look what happened to him."

A gala performance from the Bard of the Oche.