
It was a magnificent subculture. Big guys with tattoos, who liked a pint and a bet. Leighton Rees from the Valleys, who lived with his mam; Alan Evans, whose dad had a pub and used to stand him on a box to play at the age of eight. Later there was Deller, whose mum used to fry chips with one hand and throw darts with the other; and Jocky Wilson, who would bring his own optic to tournaments, and a bottle of vodka with his name on it. He’d win darts matches when other people would have been in intensive care.
Sid Waddell in Ingle/Guardian
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