I don't tend to watch snooker much. However, on account of the appalling nature of the prevailing meteorological conditions yesterday, and as I had a slight sore head from the previous evening at the esteemed Stand Comedy Club, I made an exception.
Since tobacco sponsorship was banned, the prize money has drastically shrunk.
It has gone from "Who Wants To Be A Millionnaire" type sums to the current equivalent of , "Here's Your Crackerjack pencils!" ( CRACKERJACK! )
The best player Ronnie O'Sullivan is clearly clinically insane. Steve Davis is still bumbling along in his dotage. Jimmy White looks like the 60 fags and a bottle of vodka a day diet is finally catching up with him. Stephen Hendry is clinically depressed. Peter Ebdon could have a blossoming career as a ruthless serial killer, should he wish to retire from his life on the green baize. Dennis Taylor is still not very funny really. Hazel Irvine is nauseatingly chirpy. The BBC Production team are desperately trying to make snooker look sexy again by overlaying moody trance anthems on action clips. It's not working.
The selling of advertising on waistcoats further increases the tacky awfulness.
Not that I'm one to complain.
I do actually quite like snooker. I spent most of my University life in the snooker hall. I feel its TV appeal is waning though.
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