NOT SO SILENT FLIGHT!

Christmas with the darts fans

- AARON NEWBURY

Where's Wally? Our Aaron, centre, meets his mirrors

HERE are three things you should know about the World Darts Championship. First, it’s entirely possible to meet Jesus queuing for a pint.

Second, he may well be accompanied by a penguin. Third, neither of these facts will strike anyone present as unusual.

Welcome to Ally Pally, where for nearly three glorious weeks every December and January, thousands of people set aside their daily lives, put on ludicrous costumes and discover that darts is not merely a sport, but a state of mind.

I must confess that before conducting my “research” for this article, I had never even watched darts. Not a single “one-hundred and eighty!” Now, having witnessed this magnificent carnival of controlled chaos, I can only ask myself: what took me so long?

When I arrive in the lead-up to Christmas Day, the heaving fan village just outside the main arena in North London resembles a particularly ambitious fancy dress party that has collided with a German beer festival. Nuns mingle, the Pope shares a knowing glance with Ali G. Dalmatians chat with bananas, a Kinder egg debates with a dartboard.

Nobody bats an eyelid at my red and white striped top and bobble hat I am, of course, Wally from the Where’s Wally? children’s puzzle books.

The dedication required to be here is impressive. In August, 120,000 tickets sold out in hours. Nobody knew who they would be watching or which matches they'd see. They simply knew they had to be at Ally Pally (never Alexandra Palace) and that was enough. Some 15,000 of those tickets went to German fans alone.

Dartboards are everywhere. At charity stands and bars, there’s something brilliant about a sport that provides its equipment at every available corner, as if to say: go on then, have a go yourself.