Review Books: The Crafty Cockney. By Eric Bristow. Century Press | Darts | oche | BDO | Bobby George | Stoke Newington

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Published: 15 January 2009

Crafty Cockey Eric Bristow

The cocky one at the General Picton

The Crafty Cockney. By Eric Bristow.
Century Press

THE riveting victory of Ted “The Count” Hankey over Tony “Silverback” O’Shea in the BDO World Championship Finals on Sunday has provided further proof, if any were needed, that darts is a game of champions.
How many professional athletes warm up by drinking their own body weight in lager? How many sports welcome their caped ambassadors with DJ Zany on the PA and raucous boos?
Darts was not always this much fun, however, or this popular. One man often credited with raising the game to its current zenith is Eric Bristow, The Crafty Cockney, who ruled the oche in the 1980s.
It was Bristow, alongside his friend and fellow player Bobby George, who began the pantomime crowd-baiting. But Bristow was not just a clown: he was a prodigy. He won his first world title at the age of 20 and held the top spot in the game until 1987 when his career was crippled by dartitis, a rare psychological condition that makes you unable to let go of the dart.
Born in Stoke Newington in 1957, Bristow drifted into crime as a teenager. In the early days it was “living on a knife edge” that gave him the rush, until he found darts and everything changed.
He joined the Super League team of the General Picton pub in King’s Cross and made a reputation as a cocky and prodigious young talent; his early stage name was “The London Lip”. Not everyone warmed to his arrogance. One supporter hid broken glass in his palm and shook Bristow’s hand to disable him. Another threw itching powder over him.
Bristow’s colleagues – John Lowe, Jocky Wilson and “Big” Cliff Lazarenko – perhaps did most to undo him: several times he lost crucial matches due to a hangover or ended up with alcohol poisoning after a Herculean drinking session. On one occasion Wilson kicked him really hard in the shin before a match, scraping off the skin and causing it to bleed heavily.
“That was Jocky,” says Bristow fondly. “He loved a practical joke.”
Bristow was a natural talent, but he does give a few pointers as to how he achieved such success. He describes his training routine: “I limited myself to no more than five pints of lager before the game.” Discipline, thy name is Bristow.
SIMON WROE

• The Crafty Cockney. By Eric Bristow. Century Press £18.99

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