On the Place du Commandant-Desmeulles, in Alençon (Orne), the midnight blue front of the bar Le Toucan lights up under the effects of the last rays of sunlight of the day. Inside, watched by several figurines of the large-beaked bird perched on the wall, Nicolas, smiling under his graying beard, is busy behind the bar to serve the first beers.
The real kick-off is heard around 6 p.m. at the back of the tiled room plunged into darkness. Three sounds of impact crack the air. Dry, short, effective. Darts have just found “the bubble”, the heart of a target. Like the three shots of the brigadier at the theater, they announce the start of a wild evening.
