Funny how you can think that because you’re good at one thing, that you might be good at another, only to find that you’re crashingly hopeless. I’m a good pool player, for example, but my golf game is dire, despite me assuming that balls in holes is balls in holes. With golf I have the odd amazing shot, but generally I’m slicing balls into forests and throwing my clubs in the water. But with pool, I’ve actually been warned off a winner-stays-on pub marathon in Scotland. “Ye better no win the next one,” cautioned an auld fella. I hadn’t even realised there were disgruntled Scottish heavies lined up scowling at the English bird who was making them all look silly. Anyway, I digress, sort of.

I’m a crack shot at clays – genuinely, I hardly miss a single one – and I love shooting. So I just assumed I’d be really good at axe throwing. Yeah, I said axe throwing, and yeah, I was absolutely dreadful. I took the Silver team there for our summer do. Thankfully we had cocktails afterwards, not before. And some of us were terrible, and some were just brilliant. I would say I was just below ‘Astoundingly awful.’ (Don’t even think about it, Lezard. A “Team outing” here is half a shandy and a bag of cheese’n’onions at The Eddy).

Despite the best efforts of the lovely Viking (Ben from Newcastle, resplendent with red beard and long hair and huge muscles who was coaching us), I was, on the whole, really a bit rubbish at axe throwing. A bit like golf, actually, I got the odd one in. And it’s very satisfying when the blade THUNKS into the wood. But mostly I watched, helpless, as the axe went rogue, splintering things and smashing into everything except the target. I tried not to get annoyed.

Ellie the intern, who is as slim as an actual blade and frankly looks like a good gust of wind would take her out, was thudding the axes into the board every single time. And burying them deep, further supporting the assumption that it’s all in the wrist. I watched her, wondering what she was doing and trying to emulate her relaxed flick, but to no avail. 

The only moment of actual glory I had during the whole escapade was when I landed two axes at once in the same board (on purpose). There is video footage of me capering about and yelling in disbelief. But apart from that, axes were largely not doing what I wanted. It was, however, enormous fun and I would recommend it to anyone. Hatchet Harry’s is at the bottom of Dyke Road, and well worth a visit. 

Sam is founder and Editor-in-Chief of Silver Magazine – for the mature maverick.  www.silvermagazine.co.uk