Eric Bristow

In 1987 I got dartitis, a psychological condition which means you can't let your darts go properly. For a time, I wondered what the hell I was going to do if I didn't recover. But I remained positive and, thankfully, got over it. It occurred during the Swedish Open when I found I couldn't let the darts go.

For a boy of ten, used to the coal bings and rust-coloured burns of Cowdenbeath, the fields and woodland of Kingswood, with its overgrown but stately avenue of copper-barked sequoias, felt like a local version of paradise.

I have friends of mine that are actors or singers, and they're the classic guys where, they're onstage, and they're like, 'Okay, the blonde in the third row, seat 24, bring her to my dressing room.' I've never, never taken advantage of that, I swear to God.