...as long as it's about snooker (Steve Davis OBE 1957-)
I'm as happy as a dog licking his own balls. Here I am sitting in an empty house, eating my body weight in Chickatees and Meanies, drinking strong black tea by the gallon with the snooker on the telly. I love this time of year 17 days of the World Snooker Championships on the telly, the best of it on during the day when nobody is around to tell me they need the telly to see if Ali is going to turf Jimmy out in Fair City or that the mountain of ironing in the bedroom won't do itself and to sort it out before I run out of jocks or am forced to resort to wearing my Bros Before Hoes t-shirt into work.
It's a lot more interesting that you might think. This year is shaping up very well with three former champions knocked out in the first round, there's also a couple of Chinese lads starting to emerge, they've been living in Europe playing in a Chinese snooker academy in order to hone their skills. Yesterday the BBC interview one of them and there in all its glory was a picture of Mao over the table he was practicing on. Unfortunately Joe Swail is the only Irish lad left, he has about as much chance of winning as I do of knocking the granny out of the dirty bird in Girls Aloud. Ken Doherty, Mark Allen and Michael Judge have all departed within the first 5 days.
Ronnie O’Sullivan is the favourite to win this year, he’s probably the only character left in it compared to the headbangers like Alex Higgins or Denis Taylor from the good old days. I can’t see Ronnie winning it cos his head can’t take 17 days of snooker but I’ll enjoying watching him give it a shot.