THE snooker’s on and some people claim it’s a complete waste of time, but they’re full of shit. Here’s five reasons why watching snooker is better for the soul than some fucking spa weekend surrounded by twats.
Snooker is good for your brain: All those complicated sums and angles will make you feel like a half-human, half-computer super-being of the future.
The hushed commentary is like an ASMR video. You are floating on a cushion of pure thought.
The referee’s white gloves and the attention he plays to cleaning the balls make Marie Condo look like Compo from Last of the Summer Wine.
The players’ nicknames are works of art. The Whirlwind, The Rocket, The Sheriff of Pottingham and the Toast of Tavistock. Poet warriors battling in a Crucible. It truly is a magical kingdom.
The opening titles are sexy. All those bad-ass rock notes, all that spurting paint. It’s enough to give you an erection.
