"If you'd like to sit here and fume about Dempster or whatever else it is that's eating at you," I said, warming to my theme, "feel free to go right ahead. I'll just head off home and spend the evening watching the snooker championships." "It's not snooker season, actually," offered Colin, in a conciliatory way. "Fine. Darts, then." "Envisioning them thrown at my head?" he asked ruefully. Despite myself, I smiled back. "We were getting there."