SHE stepped out of the darkness into a soft pool of orange light that highlighted her distinctive East European features.

The room was silent save for the low hum of the air-conditioning which was working overtime to keep at bay the hot summer sun.

Although her eyes betrayed her fear and anger, she lifted her head up proudly and walked slowly towards me.

Her stunning good looks were shrouded by long, slightly wavy black hair and she had a body to die for. Her hips, incased in skin-tight black trousers, swayed gently as she edged closer.

I stood still. She looked at me with pleading eyes and I turned my head away. She moved closer and brought her red-painted lips up to my right ear.

And in a husky voice, she whispered: “B*stard.”

That’ll teach me to roll the cue-ball up behind the blue to snooker Poland’s number two woman player Malgorzata Sikorska in the World Ladies Billiards & Snooker Association mixed pairs tournament in Cambridge.

A CRIBBAGE player who goes by the glorious name of Eugene McWilliams pulled me to one side during the finals night at Swaythling WMC on Thursday evening to tell me a sad tale – or so I thought.

Moments after his Bitterne Park WMC side beat Shirley Social B in the Malcolm Brooke Plate, Eugene tugged my arm.

“One of our players died yesterday,” he told me solemnly.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I replied, already thinking of the headline: CRIBBAGE CHAMPIONS DEDICATE WIN TO DEAD TEAMMATE.

“Yes,” added Eugene. “He drowned.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I replied, now thinking tabloid style: CRIBBAGE STAR PEGS OUT FOR LAST TIME or even WAT-ER WAY TO PEG OUT.

And with a perfectly straight face Eugene delivered the punchline: “He fell into a bowl of muesli and a strong currant pulled him under.”

IT’S a much over-used word but in the case of Southampton social clubs’ Premier champions Totton Rec A, team spirit is the side’s sixth player.

Listening to the lads’ merciless mickey-taking after their final-frame triumph last Monday reminded me of how a tape of Cornish funnyman Jethro brightened up a six-hour coach trip back from watching Saints lose at Newcastle many years ago.

Captain Darren Pearce recalled a bad result a fortnight ago when he said to teammate Richie Martin: “We need a number four. Shall we ask Steve Allen if he wants to be non-playing captain next year?”

Richie approached Steve and said: “Me and the lads have had a little chat and we’ve all decided that you should be a non-playing skipper next year.”

Team statistician Allen replied: “Well, I’ll go and play for the B team.”

But Richie pointed out: “I’ve spoken to the B team and they don’t want you. But rumour has it the C team in Division 5 are looking for a player.”

And hearing that their friends at Shirley Social had taken four frames off City Transport to gift Totton the title, Richie added: “We’d like to take Shirley Social out for a beer but it would cost us too much money.”

The rest, I’m afraid, is unrepeatable.

SO, the biggest event of the snooker year is almost upon us.

But before the women’s world championships kick off in Cambridge on May 3, the little-known but traditional curtain-raiser is taking place in an old theatre in Sheffield.

Not many people realise that men also play the sport which has traditionally been dominated by female superstars.

But while three-time champion Reanne Evans, ‘Sicilian Assassin’ Maria Catalano, Katie ‘Hooray’ Henrick, Portsmouth’s 'Queen of the South' Emma Bonney and our very own 'Golden Girl' Suzie Opacic prepare to be the centre of attention for the world’s media for six days, spare a thought for the poor old men who have to live in the women’s shadow.

Although they’ll never reach the standard of the ladies, players such as Ronnie O’Sullivan, Maria Catalano’s cousin, and Mark Allen, Reanne Evans’ partner, will continue to travel up and down the country playing in deserted clubs for prize money that won’t pay the overnight hotel bills.

STANCE is the most important thing. A good solid stance, facing the machine, with your right foot in line with the slot.

But the secret is in the grip. Trigs reckons the best technique is to hold a stack of one pound coins in your right hand between thumb and third and fourth fingers.

By keeping your thumb still and applying pressure with the other two fingers as you press each coin into the slot with your index finger, the next coin is automatically pushed into position.

Thus the fruit machine can be refilled with a machine-gun effect.

He says the biggest mistake made by beginners is to hold a fist-full in their left hand and take one coin at a time with their right hand.

Next week a youngish barmaid reveals the fascinating inside story of how to make the art of pulling draw numbers out of a bag look easy.

THE Crucible Theatre it wasn’t. But Testwood Working Men’s Club last Wednesday still witnessed all the drama of snooker’s world championship final albeit in slightly noisier surroundings.

Covering our first pool match for the social clubs’ league, Happy-Snapper Kevin Legg and I headed west for the pool pairs final expecting a crash, bang, wallop, quick-fire match.

But we were treated to chess on green baize as both pairs conferred before every visit to try and manoeuvre two-shot opportunities. The final was best-of-nine frames or racks (depending on which side of the pond you were born) and lasted three hours.

Feet away from the table, which was in the middle of the bar area, four elderly gentleman were enjoying a cribbage game and above their heads the TV was showing Arsenal slugging out a 1-1 draw with Liverpool in the Champions League quarter-final first leg at the Emirates Stadium.

All four players were laughing and joking with each other, and the referee, throughout. Play was held up at least once as the striker ordered a round of drinks at the bar.

And while eyeing up a particularly tricky safety shot, Adrian Sturgess didn’t bat an eyelid as a member of the ladies darts team walked past the table announcing to the world that blue ticket 950 had won a raffle prize.

The match was played in a great spirit by four players with massive mutual respect for each other. But make no mistake, this was serious stuff.

And a certain Happy-Snapper put his new-found ‘drinks on the house’ negotiating skills to the test - and passed.