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.
I talk fast because I'm asthmatic, and I'm desperately hoping the words get out before my breath fails.
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.
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.
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.
You can get the dart player out of the pub, but you can't get the pub out of the dart player.
Darts players are probably a lot fitter than most footballers in overall body strength.
The thing with darts players is they have always appeared available. They don't have to live like monks. I've only ever met one dry player in 35 years.
The players are under so much duress, it's like duressic park out there!
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.
Golden rule of life: never underestimate your rivals.
It's like trying to pin down a kangaroo on a trampoline.
He's as cool as a prized marrow!
He looks about as happy as a penguin in a microwave.
There hasn't been this much excitement since the Romans fed the Christians to the Lions.
I'm the world's worst after-dinner speaker. I need pictures to respond to. I was the voice of the lottery balls once and got the sack.
The atmosphere is so tense, if Elvis walked in, with a portion of chips... you could hear the vinegar sizzle on them.
He's about as predictable as a Wasp on speed.
