Let Slip the Darts of War

Well after floggin the old man on Mon I felt sorry for him and let him have a few 501s before I sent him packing in round the clock. Today however we had company in South Easters team mate Chris. Thus in front of company I had to go hard to let all and sundry know who was boss. There was some stirling darts from everyone, 140s, 135s, 125s, tons and 95s flew thick as thieves till the darts blotted out the sun. Well it could also have been night time, but none the less amongst the chaos the PG held his nerve to peg when the crunch was on, taking 4 victories, OMK 3 victories after sending everyone into fits of laughter with his rant after a dart hit 13 instead of 18, cunning old bugger he is, Chris a suprsing 2. With the obligatory desert of round the clock the Old man started walking at a rapid pace but a d8 shot yours truly in front. Then the old man took a leaf out of Alicia Molek's book and begun crapping on constantly while I was trying to hit the bull however I returned fire with the pysch out that "The old man can't hit a bull if he doesn't do it first dart". With his first dart going wide it was champagne time as true to form the next two were in more danger of hitting Banjo then the bull. Just to prove the PG can peg with any dart the bull was hit next throw on the second dart, the first being a perfect sighter. Gameshot and line honours to PG. As it should be. Now to tuck into this cheese, stick o roo, mango chutney late night snack the loser, gallant in defeat, has prepared.

Oh did I mention I did it all whilst wearing the old man's former bulla shirt?
BULLA!
PG Out.