The game of darts, as we know it today was, as many such things are, invented in a British pub. The first ever darts tournament took place in 1926 in ‘The Red Lion’ in Wandsworth. In fairness, while that was the inaugural toury on the modern game, this iteration of the drinking mans sport of choice was hardly the first. The French had there own version, which being French is a bit flighty (its called fletchette’s and involved feathered ‘darts’) Various other iterations exist date back as far as the 13th century. Some however might argue that the game reached it true peak in the 1800’s when there was a popular version of the game that involve tiny darts and a blow pipe.

The game was called Puff and Blow, those were simpler times…

Puff and Blow was not a game that one might expect to require a tad of trepidation, but more than one unlucky ‘puffer’ was known to suck in an errant dart, at least according to a new article read by the narrator of this ‘comic’ tale by our own Dear Edgar. The report states a sporting chap, a tad worse for wear and deep in his cups, sucked when he should have blown, swallowed the needle which impaled itself into his throat and this caused him to expire. In the narrators opinion this must clearly be false news. ‘Such odd events could never happen.’ he says. going on top pontificate that ‘No one has ever died from sucking a needle into their throat’ while playing a pub game, and that this was ‘too ridiculous for words’.

It is then he is visited by an Angel, a odd angel to be sure, indeed one might say the angel of the odd. An angel that has a body made up of a beer barrel, and several bottom of wine for arms and legs…

There may be a metaphor here, but its very subtle…

The Angel of the odd goes on to tells our narrator that strange things do indeed happen all the time. When the narrator dismisses this he learns the error of this opinion when strange increasingly unlikely events start to happen to him. Firstly as he is a tad worse for ware due to drink he takes a nap, sleeps too long and misses an appointment to renew his fire insurance, and his house has caught fire. Luckily he escapes down a ladder his neighbors provide, but it gets knocked over by a runaway hog and he falls and breaks his arm. Events get worse and more bizarre from there on in.

It is all a bit silly, but then that is the intent. This is literary slapstick and as such its fun enough, even funny if you want literary slapstick. That is if you wish to laugh at the misfortune of the clown, while knowing he is a clown. A drunken clown at that which may be a moral, though its not exactly a moralistic tale. It also lacks something, laughing at a clown is all very well but the clown needs to be more than just a clown. It why Buster Keaton is still been watched today and so many of his imitators are not. Keaton had the ability to make you care, even with a kitten perched on his head. Where as Poe narrator is just a fool to whom things happen. You don’t even care when he decided to kill himself, or that he is reprieved when a crow steals his clothes and he cases after it. It just done for laughs and not all that funny.

In summery, drunk or sober, strange things happen. At least if you drink you can blame the drink… Or the Angel of the odd at any rate…

TWO RAVENS LOOKING FOR AMUSMENT

Should you read it. Well the reason it gets only two ravens is I found it dull, but then I find slapstick without pathos dull. Comedy is always hit or miss, and this one misses me. That doesn’t mean it will miss you, some people like, The Office, while I have never cared for any of it iterations.

Blaggers note: Our Dear Edgar lived before the internet, thus his narrator not believing that anyone could die by sucking in a dart is reasonable enough. Even if the entire story is based on the premise of there being an angel specifically tasked with creating odd, unlikely events… Had Poe lived now he would almost certainly have read the annual Darwin Awards. He would have known therefore that humanity has an unbelievable capacity to find new and ever more ridiculous ways to depart this moral coil.

Frankly sucking in a needle playing a game of puff and blow would not even get a honoree mention.