FIRST lines are so important to a writer. Grab the reader’s attention early on and you’ve got them hooked.

So this week I take my hat off to Dave Hendon, the assistant editor of Snooker Scene magazine and Eurosport commentator.

Dave writes an almost daily piece at snookerscene.blogspot.com.

His boss, legendary snooker commentator Clive Everton, is also famous for his running battles in his magazine and through the courts with the game’s governing body - the WPBSA.

Snooker Scene’s coverage of the women’s game is second only to CueSport’s, in my humble opinion.

Last Monday, Dave opened a piece about the game’s young stars with:

“Like the black pudding industry, any sport – snooker included – relies on a steady supply of fresh blood.”

Priceless.

CHINA astonished the world today with a choreographed opening ceremony that made one’s mind boggle at the hours of preparation that must have gone into achieving perfection with a cast of thousands.

Today’s date is 08/08/08.

And this is our 100th blog entry.

To celebrate, we thought we’d fall back on the perennial favourite - a true-or-false news quiz.

1, A three-in-a-bed sex scandal rocked Pontin’s holiday camp in North Wales at last year’s junior festival as two members of a Hampshire snooker club were found in bed with a young ‘lady’.

2, A well-known EASB referee dropped three pounds into the bucket at the automatic tool booth on the M6 – and missed.

3, The region’s top women player made an appearance on page three of the Echo.

4, A part-time club barman and white-van driver took a quick snap of Mike Finn and before you can say ‘cheese’ he was photographing the women’s world champion for a national magazine.

5, A youngish barmaid was forced to stay in the club all day as police shot dead a bank robber yards from the front door.

6, A left-hander from Otterbourne travelled north on the M6 towards Prestatyn and stopped for dinner at Keele Services north of Birmingham – but on the southbound side.

7, A stalwart from north of the border replied on a forum to the chairman of Scottish Snooker: “A fat joke? Tut tut. The last bastion of the comprehensively defeated. If the roles were reversed, I would not stoop to commenting on any of your personality defects. However, I suppose a diet would be cheaper than therapy!”

8, A local romeo had the girls at Prestatyn falling at his feet with the immortal chat-up line: “My chalet’s 284.”

9, Two local players popped out for a quick curry and ended up 250 miles away watching a ten-year-old win a national title.

10, A nine-year-old lad from Marchwood scored a century break in a tournament in the Midlands.

Yes, of course, they are all true. It’s a funny old game.

SEEING the picture of the Sholing Reserves football team, and a rather dashing young goalkeeper, in Keith Hamilton’s Hampshire Heritage section in Wednesday’s Echo reminded me of the day many years ago that we discovered a football ground in the allotments.

As youngsters we played football near the allotments in Bitterne. One day a couple of mates said they had found a football ground complete with goals, nets, corner flags and a stand.

Now statements like this are usually taken with a pinch of salt. But we set off across the Bursledon Road and though the land of makeshift huts, runner beans and miserable old men telling us we shouldn’t be there until we did indeed reach an unbelievable sight.

Next to ripening tomatoes and piles of horse manure we found a chain-link fence, with a hole in it, and through it we could see a football ground complete with goals, nets, corner flags and a stand.

Wow. In we went and started kicking a ball about. Needless to say a rather excitable official soon emerged from the Sholing Sports clubhouse and we made a swift exit from the now redeveloped Birch Lawn ground.

ANY other player in any other team would have stormed out in disgust. But Steve Allen is not any other player and Totton Recreation Club A are not any other team.

As the double-winning snooker side walked across the dance floor at Sarisbury Social Club during last Saturday’s Southampton & District Social Clubs League’s annual presentation evening, did we detect an even larger grin than normal on the faces of captain Darren Pearce and cohort-in-chief Richie Martin?

The lads collected their trophies from the Eastleigh carnival queen and princesses (definitely no kissing, warned MC and league chairman Alan Donovan).

As the lads turned to head back to their table, Alan asked Steve to open his presentation box.

Unbeknown to Totton’s statistician, the league committee had agreed to the request to have Steve’s team nickname engraved on the trophy.

Sadly, we cannot repeat it here. But needless to say it refers to Steve’s perceived ability, or lack of ability, on a snooker table.

Buy Darren a Guinness and he’ll tell you the full story.

SEEING the green and white hooped shirts of Celtic fans near the Gosport Ferry as the buoys from Glasgow descended on the south for Claus Lundekvam’s testimonial, reminded me that sometimes us southerners are prone to the odd day out too.

Nearly 12 years ago three of us got up at 3.45am and drove to London. Hopping on a tube at Shepherds Bush, we arrived at Kings Cross to catch the 7am to Edinburgh Waverley.

As any true fan knows, pre-season friendlies are vitally important and a must for the die-hards. After meeting friends in a pub near the Tynecastle Park ground, we watched Heart of Midlothian, famously known as Hearts, scratch a 1-0 win.

We were forced to get a wriggle on to catch the train and arrived home after 1am.

One month after this defeat the Saints boss at the time, former Rangers manager Graeme Souness, invested in a little-known 23-year-old Norwegian defender whose name no one could ever spell properly let alone pronounce.

IT’S a little known fact that sales of McDonald’s Happy Meals increased dramatically while ITV’s Art Attack was on the air – or at least they did in one household.

Every week after presenter Neil Buchanan had finished yet another masterpiece, a young lad and his mum would be knee deep in coloured paper, glue and sparkly things.

In fact, poor old mum came to dread the programme.

One day the lad rushed into the kitchen and said: “We’ve got to make a volcano.”

Mum buried her head in her hands and asked what was needed.

“Well,” declared the excited youngster. “We need a shoebox…and…and.”

Enough was enough. And from that day forward, at precisely the same time on the same day every week, the lad was taken for a special treat to McDonald’s.