Tucked away on a quiet backstreet in south-east London is a small shop with a big reputation. The modest green frontage of Parris Cues, a stone’s throw from the train station in suburban Forest Hill, barely hints at what lies within.
A glance at the photos dotted along the walls inside – Ronnie O’Sullivan, Steve Davis, Alex Higgins, Jimmy White – makes it clear this is serious business; a mere handful of the players to have placed their trust in the master cue maker John Parris.
Behind the shop stretches a large, noisy workshop, a hive of activity and buzzing machinery where joiners, engineers and french polishers are busy. Stretching back decades into the past, too, is a dynasty of world champions who reached the pinnacle of snooker with a cue made here.
The shop opened in 1984 but it is far from a relic of the game’s halcyon days in that decade: in his own estimation about 20 of 32 players at the world championship will be using a Parris cue when it begins next weekend.
A customer visiting from Australia is leaving as I arrive, neatly illustrating the shop’s worldwide appeal. Later a man knocks on the door: “I’m here for Jimmy’s cue,” he declares. “Whirlwind” is the single word embroidered on the black leather case swiftly produced from the back room. “There’s not many we haven’t worked with,” Parris says. “We’ve normally got at least 50% [of professionals]. It goes up and down between 50% and 75%. It’s not bad going.”
It is difficult to imagine the ferocity of pressure experienced by tour snooker players. For them, holding a cue they trust – that feels right – is paramount. Spend time talking to Parris and it becomes obvious that for his clients, blaming the cue is not an option. “I tend to overdo hobbies,” Parris says, having built a thriving business with 14 staff including his wife, Christine, “the brains behind it”.
Parris was an amateur player in Bromley in the 70s. “I started fiddling around with my cue”, he says. “A few people asked me to do theirs, and it progressed. I had a workshop at home but we quickly outgrew it.”
There is a photo of Parris with a youthful “Hurricane” Higgins, in which the legendary Northern Irishman is literally leaning on his trusted cue maker. “Alex was the first professional we worked with,” Parris says of the 1972 and 1982 world champion. “I’d arrange exhibitions for him. I’d pick him up from Euston and while he was down, we’d go to a snooker club and spend the afternoon trying different things.”
Where the Hurricane is concerned there is, naturally, a story beyond the baize. “We did have one falling out,” Parris says. “We’d do an exhibition, then we’d always be trying to catch up with Jimmy in different nightclubs. But Jimmy always seemed to be one club in front of us.
“We were in the car and Alex said: ‘I think you should make an Alex Higgins cue.’ ‘No,’ I said. ‘I make John Parris cues. I could go to Argos and get an Alex Higgins cue.’ We ended up outside the car, nose-to-nose on Shaftesbury Avenue. ‘That’s your lot,’ I said. ‘You’re banned.’
“A couple of days later his driver turned up: ‘I’ve got Alex outside, can he come in?’ Then Alex appears: ‘Please let me come back, babe.’ He was quite charismatic but he could be a pain in the arse if things didn’t go his way.”
Davis is his “best mate” in snooker. “We didn’t discuss money at first but he insisted on paying me,” Parris recalls of the first cue he made for Davis, whose dominance brought six world titles during the 80s. He never cashed the £200 cheque, dated 22 September 1986: “It’s paid for itself many times over.”
Parris also tells the tale of sawing Davis’s cue in half at the request of his client. Barry Hearn, former head of World Snooker, once introduced Parris as follows: “He’s got both testicles and both kneecaps, and he cut Steve Davis’s cue in half!” “Typical Barry,” Parris says, smiling.
“Ronnie was 11 when he first came in,” he says of the seven-times world champion, O’Sullivan. “We’ve always had a really good relationship. It’s funny, when he wins something and I post on Twitter he’s done it with a Parris cue, people say: ‘He could have won that with a broomstick or a chair leg.’ And maybe he could. But if they knew how particular he is on his equipment – he’s so tuned into his cue, it’s got to feel and look just right.”
With equal impulsiveness and generosity O’Sullivan once gave his cue to a fan after a defeat. “I had a couple [of cues for O’Sullivan] on the go,” Parris says. “But I didn’t realise there was going to be any rush. When I saw him on TV handing his cue to someone in the audience, I went into a state of panic.”
Like any other sport, snooker has its problems. There are opinions on how tournament formats, venues or the number of events might be improved and changed. O’Sullivan has often been a vocal critic but Parris endeavours to remain neutral. “I try to stay out of the politics,” he says. “Ronnie does feel he is carrying the weight of snooker on his back at the moment. As was Steve in his heyday, Jimmy, Alex … There’s a huge amount of pressure on him.”
Squabbles over style are not for Parris either. Mark Selby is another multiple world champion with a Parris cue, often criticised for his attritional approach. “It’s just Mark’s style,” says Parris. “I don’t think he does it as gamesmanship. Some players can handle that, others can’t.”
Ian Wright, Chris Evans, “Prince” Naseem Hamed and Ronnie Wood are among the smiling celebrities and satisfied customers displayed on the website. “We’re doing a cue for James Maddison,” he says. “I was meant to present it to him up at Leicester last month, but the night before he was called up by England.”
From taking “an armful of cues” to Wood’s opulent games room overlooking Richmond Park (the Rolling Stones guitarist bought them all), to being flown first-class to Brunei at the behest of the crown prince, Parris has accumulated some stories. Unaware of why his presence was required in Brunei, he travelled with “a few bits and pieces. One of his cues was making a noise, and needed a new tip. That’s the furthest I’ve ever been to put a tip on.” On another occasion the crown prince arrived at the shop in a convoy of limousines: “It was like Coming to America.”
From sourcing wood to finished cue, turnaround time is a minimum of six months and up to a year and more. “I learned through mistakes,” Parris says. “In that sense the way we make them is, perhaps, unique. But also the feedback from the world’s top players over the years, you take that on board.
“Wood is a nice material to work with but it’s a headache finding the right pieces,” Parris says. “At least once a week, I’ll go out to a wood yard and spend the day looking at mountains of it.” In London? “No, no, there’s nothing in London. You have to travel.” But you don’t want to say where? “No,” he says, laughing. “There wouldn’t be any wood there when I go back.”
As always, Parris plans to spend a few days in Sheffield for the first week of the world championship. “I like to go early, before people start getting knocked out,” he says. Whoever proves to be last man standing at the Crucible, there is a strong chance the decisive ball will be potted with a Parris cue.
