The HotNess really needs to find a job,....

During the recent spell of unusually warm weather, it appears that the refractive index of the Earth's atmosphere has changed sufficiently that from the top of my favorite lighthouse and using another one of my phallic instruments (a telescope on this occasion) I was recently able to make out some smoke signals from the oceanic continent in the haze, which I have managed to interpret as follows,....

An excerpt from The Oamaru Mail - Monday 17th July 2006

Barely two weeks since his arrival back in Oamaru, local boytravelerr done good Elton Crane has returned to make a name for himself on the local darts circuit. Many Oamaruvians will fondly recall his rangy, athletic figure carving up the Waitaki Recreation Centre during his brief yet fiercely intense days as a basketball star. Many critics of the outspoken sportsman questioned his choice to quit the game and focus on his love for alcohol and lying on the sofa at his Mum and Dad's house.

Several years have passed and Crane was rumoured to have slipped into a hinterland of inactivity, wasting away watching reruns of Shortland Street and writing jingles for Australian AM radio adverts. Crane laughs at this suggestion, flicking the tousled fringe of dark brown hair from his eyes, saying "I did a few gigs in Sydney with some friends from AC7 DC, but that's all I want to say about my days in music. Except to mention the b-side I co-wrote with Midnight Oil. It's all in my past now."

Why Oamaru? Why now? Why darts? How did this tiny bumpoke of a town deserve to be blessed by the return of their most beloved, yet obviously troubled son? Crane offers a trademark smirk reminiscent of the golden era of cinema when brooding men truly held a presence in our lives. "I've travelled and lived in some amazing countries throughout my turbulent life and the day comes when it is time to return to your roots and give back what was once given to you. First off, that meant returning two hundred bucks to my Mum, but beyond that I've come home to show other keen dart players what someone of enormous talent and dedication is capable of."

Merely five days back in the country, Crane was verbally requested to join the North Otago Darts Team for a trip to Dunedin competing against Otago. Witnesses say he accepted the offer with charming aplomb, nodding nonchalantly between warm-up throws. One week later and the official selection committee sat around the table finalising names for the trip down South. Tony Crane, Elton's older brother was heard saying he felt "Elton would probably be best suited in the B squad for his first outing. See how he goes." This suggestion was rapidly quashed by the remainder of the committee who insisted Elton join the A squad immediately and share his knowledge.

This in itself was miraculous. Never before had an unknown entity swept into town and joined the top-flight (no pun intended) team without first proving their own worth. The following Saturday Crane Junior showed that as a cocksure young buck, he had the necessary mustard to mix it up with the big boys in the A Team. Though Tony Crane was not present due to party commitments, Elton and partner Kerrin Robinson WON the Pete and Shelley Memorial Trophy, netting $45 each and the promise of a miniature trophy once the engraving is complete. The pair were ecstatic, especially Crane who saw the victory as the culmination of many years of top-level pub darting in the U.K. In winning the trophy, Crane and Robinson had to beat the A Team captain and partner, plus a New Zealand Darts Council representative and his drunk wife. They are both in the South Island team but Mrs Henry's game seemed hampered by her consumption of at least five hot mince pies. "You fat bastard. You fat bastard" was the silent chant of those assembled.

What next for this trophy accumulating man of many talents?
Watch this space.

What next for our errant correspondent?

Will he find a job so he has less time on his hands for contemplating his own greatness?

Will he finally drag the southern hemisphere into the 19th century and start communicating by morse?

Or could he achieve the almost impossible and join the information age so that he can post his own mindless ramblings on the blog instead of getting me to do it every time?

To find out watch this space,..... or if you can't multitask, just watch the space eluded to in the missive above.

Hardcore out.

News from the other side,...

The following has been recieved from the Hotness via long range carrier pigeon washed up in a bottle on the South West coast:



Okay, I’ve been here for one week now so you’re all screaming out for details of my darting down under. After a fairly horrendous dose of jetlag, I checked out the Puma board that Mum and Dad set up in the shed up the back of their place, alongside a TV and Aiwa stereo. Of course there’s the obligatory fan heater to save my arse from freezing. So I’m a happy lad.

Warm-up went well and I was feeling confident for my first contest against Tony. I wandered round wearing gloves, scarf and mega winter jacket and met my arch nemesis in his garage. Long story made short (never easy for the King of elaboration) I actually won a few games, not made simple with Tony’s frequent comebacks and putdowns. Highlight of my night was starting one game with a 180. Tony promptly plucked an Australian 180 badge from a cluster of similar badges and handed it over to me. I tried to play it cool, but I think we all know how serious the underpant creaming was. At this stage Tony was determined to ruin my buzz and beat me in the game that I’d hit a maximum. But No! I followed it up with two 100’s and ended with 15 darts. Needless to say, those undies have been thrown out.

Last night was my first foray into the world of North Otago Darts. Warming up wearing thermals and a jersey was odd to begin with, but I’m a Hardy Southern Man and not easily fazed so I kept throwing till the frost had thawed on my fingertips.

I’m not one to big-note myself as you all know. The respect I have deservedly earned through my years of impeccable darting and gallant etiquette is still thoroughly intact and I’m proud of the restraint I always manage to show. However, during warm-up I hit a180. This guy is incredible I hear you all think. Well, that may be true. It may well be true.

Of course it is true and the top woman came over and invited me along with the North Otago Representative Team on a tour (piss up) to play against the Otago Team. I think I’m in the ‘B’ Side at this stage, but it won’t be long before I rise up and stand alongside Tony ‘thanks for coming’ Crane in the ‘A’ Squad.

The actual darts structure at the North Otago Darts Association (N.O.D.A) is really good. There are 8 teams of 4 and they all play in one room on lots of boards. Total Darts. No pool tables, fruit machines, cigarettes, nasty geezers or Barry’s. A few no hope nutbars but that’s typical of the Dart World. We play 2 doubles games and 4 singles games, both of which are best of three games. This is a lot of dart action and inevitably a lot of chalk action. It’s an excellent way to sizzle into lots of games and get the counting up to scratch. We start at 7:00 and finish around 10:00. Sweet as bro.

I was only beaten by one guy and that was after I hit a 140, followed by a 117 to leave me 32. Unfortunately I missed and he didn’t. The other factor involved is the handicap system. The guy that beat me started his games on 451, even though he’s in the Rep side. I started on 501 because I’m the new boy and they have to assess my skillz.
I will update you on my North Otago vs Otago Debut at the end of this month.