John Parris: ‘I learned to make snooker cues by making mistakes’

T ucked 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