The Empress public house, last night: Max Fayers regained the Fayers Fraternal Darts Championship trophy from his elder brother amidst an embarrassing defeat on the latter’s part. After facing a 20 to 14 defeat on a game of ‘Around the World’, Oliver squandered numerous opportunities to wrap up the 501 game by landing a double, in face of ample chances to do so. Following his loss, Oliver was seen trudging skulkily on his nine-step journey from the establishment to his own front door, grumbling incoherently to himself about the cruel treatment received from Fortuna whilst being in said pub.

For any of you who defy the odds and don’t switch off when I begin talking, you may have heard me mention something about my brother’s ability to deal out buttkickings on the Playstation 3 version of Fifa 08. There once was a time when Max couldn’t beat me at football computer games. That was a while ago now. I played him the other night and lost 2-0. I was incredibly pleased with myself even though he was making excuses for not giving me more of a pasting.

Why so pleased? Well, Max Fayers, or LordSuffolk to call him by his online name, happens to be one of the best players in the world. This is one of those rare occasions when ‘one of the best in the world’ can be taken on its literal meaning. By the online global ranking system, he’s third best, behind a couple of (good, I assume) Spaniards. 2-0, I thought, was a good result. Kind of like Ipswich under-7s losing by a couple of goals to Chelsea’s first team. Anyhow, his being so good meant he went to a regional qualifier for the Fifa Interactive World Cup UK the other week. This was set in the oh-so-glamourous surroundings of Coventry’s Ricoh Arena. He won this event, which meant qualifying for the national final at some nightclub in Manchester.

Now, this event is attended by the 16 best Fifa-players in the UK, and an idiot might assume that it’s a nerdy little event for people who haven’t been outside for at least four months and are unsure of what a shower is. Of course, that isn’t true, and every entrant is a brilliantly sociable and friendly person. EA, who make the game, know this, so they lay on quite an event. This time, Max asked me if I’d come. I didn’t really know the details to begin with. When I found them out, I was rather pleased. A free night’s stay in a five star hotel, and a champagne reception. And apparently Reggie Yates of Radio 1 fame would be doing the compering for the games, whilst Wayne Rooney might even turn up. So, in the days running up to Tuesday night I was rather looking forward to it.

So, as instructed, we check into the Malmaison in Manchester at 3pm. And it is very nice indeed. Like Max said, I don’t know why they didn’t just bundle us into a Holiday Inn, but we weren’t complaining. Posh décor and courteous receptionists made us feel very welcome. I got changed into a casual suit for later and went for a wander in the city centre whilst Max made his preparations. At half past five, we got a ride to the Ampersand nightclub where the event was being staged. Not in any old Hackney Carriage though! They got us a high-spec chauffeured Mercedes to take us there. Not too shabby. Upon arrival, I was offered a glass of champagne by one of the many attractive ladies in black dresses. I obliged. Once I finished that, they offered me another one. I thought it might be rude not to. Having emptied that, they returned. I declined this time, as I was meant to be the responsible adult and had actually embarrassed myself at two house parties in two months due to over-consumption of alcoholic beverages. Then the ladies brought out baguettes and nibbles. Again, I didn’t want to be so impolite as to shun their cooking. So I had one. And of course I needed a glass of champagne to wash it down.

So far, so good. By then, I was getting nervous, my brother was about to play. It turned out, however, that the games could not commence until Wayne Rooney had arrived and had a picture with everyone. He arrived, and did so. Obviously, me and the rest of the normaltons were preoccupied for a while with taking pictures of him. He seemed rather shy, and politely obliged whilst people badgered him for autographs and pictures. I’ve always thought he seems like a nice chap, and a good sport, and this little encounter consolidated that belief of mine. I was pleased that he seemed like such a charming individual. Unfortunately, by the time I was going to ask for a photo, his chaperones were becoming bullish about things and repeating ‘no more photos’ in a self-important tone. The chaperones annoyed me, but I felt for Wayne. It must actually be pretty tiring to get that degree of intense attention without break for a while. Like I said, he seemed shy, so I wasn’t too bothered about the lack of commemorative photo. When he had the odd free moment he had to record some PR stuff for EA, but then got to play a couple of games himself. Apparently he was playing some guy from Coronation Street, and was one-on-one with the virtual representation of himself on the attack, but stuck the ball in the stands. Cue laughter all round, even from Mr. Rooney himself. Told you, he’s a good sport. And remember, I hate Manchester United with a searing passion, so that compliment doesn’t come easily.

Anyway, my brother was quickly whisked away after the photo to commence gaming. After an easy victory, and then a slightly harder one, he had already become a semi-finalist. During his matches, I watched nervously whilst a TV crew (who had been interviewing him earlier) asked me to stage a cheer for the camera. I didn’t oblige, but they’d already asked me questions and poked a camera around near me for a while. This meant I had to sign some release forms, which was a first. Sure enough, Reggie Yates was half-commentating on the games and talking to people in between. Around me, people were commenting on the strength of my bruv’s game. It was nice to hear how well he’s doing. Once Max was through, other people had to play games and he could chill out, whilst he lamented the fact that he could not indulge in the free bar which was bestowing beer to all.

I was at a slight loose end. There were lots of hostessy hospitality people. They seemed nice enough, but I had the strange sense I was being used for some PR gig of theirs. That was pretty much their job I suppose. Wayne Rooney had been joined by other people who were ‘celebrities’. Apparently, there were people from Coronation Street there, and some guy from Waterloo Road. I didn’t recognise these chellovecks. More of interest was when I turned round and saw Max and OB of Hollyoaks fame. This, I thought, might be worth being cheeky enough to ask for a photo. I did this, and they were nice enough to let me have a photo with them. It reminded me of the time I got a photo with a weary-and-reluctant-looking Russell Brand.They were later joined by the people who play Darren and Hannah. That was the extent of the celebrity attendance. I went back to swanning around at a loose end whilst Max practised his game with some of the gamers he’d got to know on the circuit.

Cue the semi-finals, and Max’s game was up first. I took a decent vantage point on the stage he was playing on. Reggie Yates was next to me, mic in hand, performing the commentary. The bruv was doing well for a while, taking a 1-0 lead and looking commanding. However, his opponent, Adam, had a combination of skill and luck which saw my fraternal blood relative concede six goals in fairly quick succession. It was looking brutal. Max got a couple back to make the game end with a dignified 6-3 loss for our hero. He wasn’t unduly bothered by losing to a worthy opponent who had been (in Max’s eyes) unfairly booted off the online rankings, so didn’t need much commiseration. He reckoned that a Fifa man had confirmed his progress online to the world cup final next month anyway. This meant the competition win wasn’t necessary to get him there. I remained sceptical about the accuracy of this leak, merely out of concern for my bro being let down at some point.

A real highlight of the evening happened next for me and Max. Reggie, who had genuinely seemed like a decent guy, came over to chat whilst we were in conversation, and it was not this in itself which was so pleasing. It was the genuine nature of Reggie himself. He came and asked Max sincerely if he was ok about the loss, and checked that he was enjoying himself anyway. As he was off to the bar, I thought I might as well tell him I enjoyed his Radio One request show which he hosts with Fearne Cotton. I don’t listen to radio one much because it’s so damn repetitive and boring, but their show is kinda refreshing and easy to listen to. Always good to let someone know I supposed. Happily, he was a really down-to-earth guy. He thanked me and said it was nice to have feedback, and showed absolutely no signs of an ego enhanced by media exposure. This put me in a good mood. We then chatted for ten minutes, amongst other things, about how he disliked the cult of ‘celebrity’ and valued people that were genuine in his business. I was remarkably pleased to have met and spoken with him, and you’ll have to take my word for it when I tell you that he’s an absolutely safe and awesome guy.

So, the winner qualified for the world final in Berlin next month. Interestingly, he’s an ex-world champion who was actually in my year at Sixth Form College three years ago. I wished him good luck and we had a brief chat about people we knew in common. Too bad for Max about his defeat. Well, maybe not. His qualification through the online competition was confirmed when we checked online in a Wetherspoons the next morning; he’s off to Berlin as well. As expected, it’s all expenses paid. If he wins, however, he’ll score another $20,000. Alright for some. He’s made a few friends along the way, and is continuing to be modest (except in interview when he does a Mourinho-esque display of self-confidence), and he’s in with a shout. He’s got all the luck I can wish him.

See the photos from the event here.