"I wish I'd spent more time in the pub as a youth," was the thought running through my head as I stepped up on stage.

My hopeless last-minute preparation for my clash with the king of darts was a week of lunch-times spent in the Jacob's Well.

A regular portion of pie and peas, a couple of pints, and even the odd cigarette, should have been enough to bring me up to the level of darts required. How wrong I was.

Little did I release that the 1980s TV image of darts as a beer-swiller's paradise were over.

Aussie world champion Tony David was throwing a disturbingly high number of treble 20s in the warm-up, yet he doesn't even drink or smoke.

And Trina Gulliver, the Warwickshire-based women's world champion, looked more like a figure-skating diva then a darts one. How things have changed.

Despite my shirt and tie, I looked like a decent, traditional darts player.

I deliberately remained unshaven, have the classic beer- drinker's paunch and was sporting a set of spring-loaded Embassy darts.

My throw of 61 was matched by his 140, which I followed with a 39 as I struggled to get to grips with the pressure. Another 140 from my opponent.

Generosity from Trina turned my pathetic 37 into a 180 and then it was 'game on'.

He bagged a mere 95 and, would you believe it, I put in a 100 - this time with no charity.

Unfazed by the skill of his journalistic opponent, he worked his way down to the magical 32, while I was down to 40.

Remarkably, or charitably, he missed his way down through double 16 to double eight to double four.

This was it. It was a double-top finish - my chance to beat the champ and give me permanent bragger's rights at pubs across the north of England.

I set my sights on the tiny patch of red and twizzled the darts between my podgy fingers. And then I then let it fly, and it hurtled towards the board, embedding itself firmly in the centre of the target - but the wrong target. I had hit the bullseye bang on the nose. He duly sank his double and I grudgingly shook his hand and sat back and watched the master at work. The treble 20s flew, as did the amazing finishes. A packed Bingley Working Men's Club fans went wild.

Tony David is a marketing man's dream. If you want to promote the game of darts, you need a top player who can break the mould - and Embassy have certainly found one.

The arthritic haemophiliac is tee-total, a non-smoker and walks with a limp.

A pool player of some repute, he took up darts only ten years ago, and even then just to make up a foursome at his local club.

Before you knew it, his club had a cupboard full of trophies. He then went on to win the Towns-ville Open in Queensland, the Australian Championships, and then the Embassy.

"It is all about mental health, concentration and being honest with yourself," he said.

"I have battled with serious health problems and I have worked hard - and intend to keep doing so."

His meteoric rise has clearly not gone to his head.

He remains a thoroughly nice guy, and one of his proudest moments was when his son Alex

took the Embassy trophy into his school on his first day there and proclaimed "My daddy's the world champion".