Pass by a pub in Lewes, East Sussex’s quaint county town, and you’ll likely hear the low, rhythmic of brass hitting lead. Pause for a moment – perhaps peer in a dusty window – and you might catch the glint of metal as heavy brass coins arc hopefully through the air to land, several feet away, on the soft, sloped surface of a small table. This is Toad in the Hole, or just toads, a pub game that’s a cross between darts and tiddly-winks. As sure as you’ll find Harvey’s on tap, you’ll see a toads table tucked away in most Lewes drinking establishments – as well as in those among its many surrounding villages.
Exactly where toads got started, it’s hard to say – a 1950 Pathé newsreel notes its Elizabethan roots, though the table played in that film (then located in Surrey) includes an ornamental toad sculpture on top seen in some European versions. It seems to be played a bit in Spain – where it is named “juego de la rana”, game of the frog – and also in South America – where it is “juego del sapo”, game of the toad. Here in England, however, its popularity as a pub game is very much Lewes-based.
But times are changing. In 2021, Brighton set up an entire league of its own, as a flurry of toads tables popped up post-lockdown in pubs across the city, sparking new interest in the game with a younger generation. It’s against this backdrop, and following an unprecedented two-year hiatus, that 2022 saw the return of the Toad in the Hole World Championships, the game’s annual elite tournament. For local Lewes players, the event stands, as ever, as a chance to compete at what is warmly described as “international” level. For their new Brightonian rivals, on the other hand, it’s a chance to flex their fingers and thumbs on the world stage for the very first time, challenging the locals to the crown on their home turf. And for me, subbed in at the last minute, it was a chance to see the experts in action.
As a beginner, simply landing your toads – weighty, warm-in-the-hand brass coins – on top of the table is a solid achievement. Thrown underhand from two metres away, each toad that lands on the table’s lead top is worth one point. But it must land square on top – if it slides off or hits the table’s wooden back then it is “dead” and worth nothing. Get your toad in the table’s hole and you earn two points – and you also get to go collect your toad from the small drawer in the table underneath. Opening this drawer is a little ritual whose novelty is still yet to wear off (and you always collect your own toads, wherever on the floor they’ve normally rolled off to).
Scoring works down from 31, the same as darts, with four toads thrown each round for a possible of eight points if – and it’s a big if – you were to get all four in the hole. (Throwing an eight is such a rare occurrence, Lewes players have a separate spreadsheet in their league for tracking the feat.) Overshoot 31 and you go bust, and your round is void. Beyond that, it’s all a matter of technique. Do you throw with the toad placed between thumb and forefinger, or rested on top? Do you try to arc it in, like a frisbee? Do you aim for the hole or just in front, anticipating the toad’s onward momentum?