David Parkin on a sporting challenge at the darts, Dry January and why Harrogate is classier than TOWIE

IT was only when Yogi Bear and Booboo, two Andy Pandys and a woman dressed as Super Mario walked passed me that it really sank in that I was at one of the great British sporting occasions – the darts.

The first direct Leeds Arena hosted the first stage of Premier League Darts last night in front of more than 10,000 people and plenty more watching it live on Sky Sports.

I’d heard about the phenomena that is “the darts” before.

So when an invitation arrived from Rob Cowling at Irwin Mitchell, I was happy to accept and tick off another of those great global occasions from my sporting bucket list.

Also on the list is the Melbourne Gold Cup, the Prix de L’Arc de Triomphe and a world heavyweight boxing match in Las Vegas – but you’ve got to start somewhere.

Several members of the Yorkshire dealmaking community swear by an annual trip to see it in Blackpool.

When I asked one what it would be like inside the arena, he said: “Think of a Wetherspoons with 10,000 people inside it.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Even though the world’s best players are performing on the oche, your eye is drawn to activity in the audience – or perhaps crowd is a better word.

I’d expect queues for the bars and the toilets, but I’d never seen a huge queue for the smoking area before.

The football chants were of course mainly of the Leeds United variety, with a sprinkling of “Stand Up If You Hate Man U” thrown in.

I asked David Cowgill, an Irwin Mitchell real estate lawyer who is a Manchester United fan and who was sat next to me, if he was going to join in.

“I think I’ll sit this one out,” he said, displaying the shrewdness and wisdom you often see in good lawyers.

It was soon after that the first pint of beer in a plastic glass was thrown into the air high up in the arena.

Plenty more followed.

At five quid a pint, that’s an expensive item to chuck about.

That’s if the glasses were full of beer…

A more creative group of punters below us had attempted to create a “beer snake”, the popular pastime developed on the Western Terrace at Headingley cricket ground but now nipped in the bud at test matches by over zealous stewards.

The boisterousness that you see develop over an entire day at a test match is crammed into just two hours at the darts as the players make an entrance befitting a world champion boxer accompanied by pneumatic female accompaniment and dancers who do their best to perform a coordinated routine to the music chosen to welcome the combatants to the stage.

They were pretty good with most of the music but did struggle to keep together during They Power by Snap! which is the chosen tune for top arrowsmith Phil “The Power” Taylor, the pride of the Potteries.

Shaven-domed Michael van Gerwen is another crowd favourite, boasting a range of facial expressions and a natural ability to whip up the audience into a near frenzy.

His name also lends itself to one of the easier chants.

What I couldn’t understand is why another, about footballing brothers Kolo and Yaya Toure, was so popular.

I noticed that many in the audience were wearing green plastic top hats. Given it wasn’t St Patrick’s Day and there wasn’t an Irish player competing, I was intrigued.

Then I saw that the hats bore the logo of cured meat snack Peperami.

There is a tramp who is stationed on the pavement outside the arena who is waking up this morning with about 100 packets of Peperami, as passersby opted to donate their snacks rather than spare change.

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WHO says newspapers can’t offer a modern audience what they want?

Here is a Tweet from a former colleague of mine who is now editor of the Nottingham Post, about today’s edition: “Tickets for Peter Andre, homecoming for Strictly’s Jay, 17yrs for pervert teacher and DH Lawrence Centre up for rent.”

Something for everyone there.

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GREAT food and wine and an impersonator who does both Elvis and Neil Diamond, were the highlights of a fun day at the Foundry restaurant last month.

After an event I was due to compere was postponed, mine hosts Phil Richardson and Shaun Davies were able to accommodate my lithe frame among a solid group of yeoman.

It was a welcome distraction to what has become a dull month.

People either take part in the “Dry January” campaign and don’t drink, or just cut back and head to the gym rather than pubs and restaurants during the social ghetto that the first month of the year has become.

Given I don’t indulge to any great extent during the rest of the year, I have no call for Dry January.

Absent from the throng at the Foundry was my fellow director and investor Steve Roberts, away on a skiing trip which marked the start of a year of celebrations for a significant birthday.

Steve’s idea of Dry January is not ordering water with his wine.

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THANKS to the popular television show The Only Way Is Essex, or TOWIE, a number of phrases have entered our lexicon.

Apparently the tanned women of Essex forego bread and pasta in the weeks before they head off for their summer break on the Costa del Sol in Spain in a diet known as “no carbs ’til Marbs”.

I heard Harrogate’s version of the phrase the other day.

A well-coiffed gent wearing the standard Harrogate-issue uniform of tweed jacket, pink shirt, jeans and chunky brown brogues, told me he is looking forward to his winter holiday this month in Barbados.

“So it’s no carbs ’til Barbs”, he said as he tossed another glass of white wine back.

Have a great weekend.