Patrick Chaplin - Darts Historian

House of Fun - Double One

Some years ago I received an enquiry from a darts enthusiast from Germany about the derivation of the darts phrase 'Up in Annie's Room' meaning Double One. This set me rummaging through my files and I soon found that there were several other obscure words and phrases for that demon double.

'Up in Annie’s Room’ as readers are probably aware , is still used to describe Double One. But what does it mean? Who ‘Annie’ was and how double one was ever credited to her has been the subject of some speculation for many years and, regrettably, I have been unable to identify the ‘lady’.

However, according to a reference work on dialects first published in 1916, the phase has its roots in The Great War here it was “…an answer to questions as to the whereabouts of someone who cannot be found.” From there it came into general usage to indicate any lost cause. It then found its way into the phraseology of darts describing the situation where a dart player was totally lost, i.e. he had reached double one and could do no more.

Somewhat puzzling is a reference in a 1986 issue of the Daily Mirror where a reader simply referred to as ‘J.R.’ of South Bank, Cleveland recalled that, in his game of darts many years ago if you were trying for Double Top and hit Double One you were referred to as being ‘In Annie’s Room’. Perhaps ‘Annie’ was an early female darter who was for ever finding herself up in Double One that it made onlookers feel that she actually lived there!

John Moore in his novel ‘Brensham Village’ (William Collins 1946) asked: “…over what bar did she dwell, and hear the darts thudding on the wall beneath, and what happened up in Annie’s room which made the young men chuckle when their darts flew high?” What indeed!

In this day and age I will probably be accused of being sexist if I mention that the very same Mirror correspondent stated that Double One was always known to him as the ‘Ladies Double’. This is obviously a reference to the fact that, certainly up until the post-war period, women rarely played darts except perhaps the occasional game at home or in the pub.

Until after the 1936-45 war the public house remained, more or less the domain of the working man and when their wives or girlfriends came out with them on a Saturday night it was inevitable that the ladies game was going to be tame compared to the accumulated skills of the menfolk. This more often than not meant most of their games resulted in a tortuous struggle to plant a dart in Double One.

Probably the most popular expression for Double One is ‘Madhouse’, a word which describes succinctly the position a player finds himself or herself in. It is SO frustrating to find yourself there, even more so for those who know, and should play, a lot better. It is fitting don’t you think, that Martin Fitzmaurice includes the word in the title of his splendid Darts World column. He vents his frustrations and opinions yet, just like a darter stuck on Double One, rarely, if ever, loses his sense of humour. Far from it!

Rupert Croft-Cooke, author of the first book on our game, cunningly entitled ‘Darts’ (Geoffrey Bles, December 1936) states in Chapter 6 ‘The Idiom’: “MADHOUSE –The double 1". ‘In the Madhouse!’ You are advised when you have split the double 2, and to that unpleasant region you repair.”

Croft-Cooke also recorded ‘Kelly’s Eye’ as meaning the Double One and indeed looked up the ‘Dictionary of National Biography’ in search of the right Kelly. He found Edward ‘Ned’ Kelly, the famous Australian bushranger hanged in 1880 and Patrick Kelly (1756-1842), an astronomer. Croft-Cooke offered no real answers but leant more towards the keen eye of the astronomer than some outlandish theory linking a murderer in a tin mask to the most difficult double on the dartboard.

By far my favourite theory, put to me by Peter Etwood of Fleet Hargate in Lincolnshire, refers to a man named Kelly who was an extremely unpopular instructor at the Army School of Musketry in Kent. The rings on the musketry targets were numbered outwards from one and it became the ambition of those who had suffered at Kelly’s hand, or received a tongue-lashing, to put a bullet through ‘Kelly’s Eye’, the number 1.

In America, the most popular term for Double One is ‘Madhouse’ but in at least one state it is known as the ‘Box’. In the game itself our friends across the pond sometime use American shorthand to indicate Double One. An ‘X’ chalked up on the score board indicates that the player has Double One remaining. (In Britain of course if one player has Double One left, this is often indicated by wiping the appropriate side of the board clean. However, if both players are in the Madhouse then the whole of the scoreboard is wiped clean and the chalker goes and sits down with his beer and copy of Darts World while the match continues ad nauseam.)

Cockney rhyming slang, of course, brings forth ‘Two Nuns’, and ‘Two Buns’, and, I am certain, many other examples. There are one or two words and phrases that mean Double One which defy definition. ‘Harry’s Eye’ is one of them. A misprint perhaps for ‘Kelly’? Hardly. Perhaps Kelly’s full name was Harry Kelly? And what of ‘Waggon and Horses’? How could this form of transport, or possibly a pub name, result in it being used to describe that demon double?

There are also many hundreds of additional words and phrases vented every day by players who find themselves in the Madhouse, most of which are not printable and certainly of no historical interest!

Given that Double One is without doubt the most obnoxious double on the dartsboard I end this offering with a contribution taken from Sheila Handley’s Essex county report in the December 1993 issue of Darts World. Sheila had collected the phrase ‘House of Fun’ for Double One!

Some think that the problems experienced with Double One are simply psychological. Others say the difficulties can be overcome by luck. Truly it is down to practice or as Bob Anderson once put it: “The more I practice, the luckier I get.”

‘House of Fun’ indeed!