LOST FOR words; A writer versus a weightlifter in a game of Scrabble? No contest, surely - unless Mr Muscles happens to be the game's British champion.

Byline: JANE FRYER

THIS is not my idea of fun. I am in Ely, Cambridgeshire, being humiliated by a 57-year-old ex-weightlifter with a brain like Roget's Thesaurus, a twinkle in his eye and a killer instinct for word games.

'Ooh, that's really not bad,' trills Jake Jacobs, smoothing his moustache with long fingers. '"He" and "emu" on a double word score- so that's, er, 12.

Well done you.' Still beaming, he spins the chequered board to face him, snaps down 'tead', 'aha' and 'good' (45 points), twirls it back my way with a flourish and delves in the red velvet letter bag.

'You should be good at this, given your line of work. You must have a huge vocabulary,' he says encouragingly.

We are playing Scrabble, but not as I know it. Or to be more precise, the reigning British Scrabble Champion is playing Scrabble, while I stare hotnecked at a sea of plastic letters (tiles, in Scrabble speak) as the minutes trickle away and Barbara Brown, Jake's partner of eight years and a fellow Scrabbler, chatters on. And on- 'Ooh, be warned, Jake, she's got a lovely rack. There's plenty you can do with that little lot,' she chirps, eyeing my selection beadily. 'Ooh, and you've got one of those, too. Very nice.' What with all her cheery chat and his terrifyingly quick play, it's hard to concentrate. But it's no wonder they're both chirpy.

Earlier this month, Jake - a rank outsider at just 36 in the ratings - stunned the Scrabbling world and his 32-year-old opponent, former civil servant Christian Brown, by winning the 35th National Championships and a [pounds sterling]500 cheque in London.

Ever since, he's been feted as a Scrabbling hero.

The victory was all the more poignant because the tournament - played at London's Cavendish Conference Centre before an audience of 100 and watched live by a record 50,000 online - was his first competitive match since he suffered a massive heart attack in 2002.

ADD to that his age (57 is practically moribund in elite Scrabble circles) and his previous life as the weightlifter who trained strongman Geoff Capes for the 1970s TV show Superstars, and he makes an unlikely word whiz.

'I did everything I could to prepare - ate a hearty breakfast and wore my lucky Cactus Jake,' says Jake. 'I didn't think I'd ever play competitively again, so I was cock-a-hoop.' It turns out there's rather more to Scrabble than a cosy glass of wine and an argument. In fact, there's myriad clubs, internet forums, a raft of Scrabble-mad celebrities including Madonna and Robbie Williams, and even Scrabble holidays.

No wonder that, for the 1,000-plus elite players like Jake, it's a very serious business indeed.

Every competitive Scrabbler worth his salt knows all the sneaky two and three-letter words - more than 200 and 1,000 respectively - off pat.

Plus a good smattering of 'bonus' words - the seven and eight-letter words that earn an extra 50 points and gasps of awe in your sitting room.

'If you want to be the best, you have to be dedicated,' beams Jake. 'I like to get three bonus words in every game and tend to spend about four hours a day studying the bible.' The 'bible' is not, of course, the Holy one, but a three-inch thick doorstop called OSWIE (Official Scrabble Words International Edition) which contains all the words from Chambers, Funk & Wagnalls and Webster's Dictionary in the U.S. and is the official adjudicator for competitive matches.

You don't need to know the meaning of words - indeed, the last world champion was an 18-year- old Thai student who barely spoke English.

But what you do need is a strategy. For some, it's all about 'blocking' (stopping your opponent putting bonus words), or 'tile tracking' (keeping a note of when each of the tiles is played). Jake's strength, however, is his vocabulary.

'I'm known for my weird and wonderfuls - really peculiar words - because I like shocking my opponent,' he says. 'My brain's like a computer. I need only look at the letters and it starts going, working through all the combinations of words I can play.' We both gaze down as, finally, after ten torturous minutes, I put down 'stead' and 'sir'. He quickly slaps down 'dzo' - a male hybrid of a yak and a domesticated cow - and gives me some tips as I try to concentrate.

'You're not bad at all,' he says, kindly and nearly 100 points ahead. 'You have the makings of a very good competitor. You just need to stay calm. And concentrate more.' While it's very sweet of him, I know I have some way to go.

Jake not only averages about 500 points per game (most normal players target 200), but also boasts a personal best of 719 - scored at the Cambridge Scrabble club where he is chairman.

Scrabble rapidly became more than just a hobby for Jake - indeed, it changed his life.

'I was addicted from the off,' he says. 'I just didn't know there were clubs full of people like me all over the country.' Or that it would lead to Barbara, 59.

'I'd never married and I'd been looking after my sick mother for years and, when she died in 1996, I needed a hobby to get out and meet people.' His local club was run by Barbara - who had branched out on her own when her previous club banned smoking.

'There was an instant spark,' she chips in, jangling the letter bag.

Today, they play all the time.

While Jake is the official champ, Barbara regularly beats him and even outscored him the night before the final.

'It wasn't fair,' he protests.

'My brain was all a-jumble full of letters and I'd barely had two hours' sleep.' Jake slaps down 'hep' and 'blip'. '"Hep" - is that a word?' I challenge.

'Yes, you know, someone who's trendy.' Isn't that 'hip'?

'Maybe. I dunno what "hep" is but, look, it's in the bible.' All this wrangling over letters must seem light years from his weightlifting days - at his peak, he weighed nearly 18st and could lift more than 600lb - and his dealings with Geoff Capes, who is now retired and an avid budgerigar breeder.

'Geoff was a nice guy,' says Jake, 'if a bit grumpy at times.

He was always losing his rag with me, but I put that down to his testosterone levels.

'He'd do these huge bench presses and whenever he'd start to struggle, I'd shout at him: "Come on you weakling, you can lift that piddly weight!" ' SO DOES Scrabble ever become similarly heated? 'Oh God, yes. I try not to lose my temper, but a while ago I was beating one former British champion by over 300 points and he was so distraught he was slamming the clock and the tiles were flying all over the place.' What is the worst letter, then?

'Oh God, undoubtedly-' whispers Barbara. 'Definitely..

there's no question, is there?' adds Jake. 'It's the dreaded Q!' they chorus. 'You want rid of it as soon as possible.' And the best?

'A blank,' they say, visibly brightening. 'It'll add at least 100 points to your score.' 'Followed by the S, which, as everyone knows, should never be played for less than 35 points,' Jake says, eyeing my 'guns' and 'woofs' (21 points).

So what comes next?

'The world championships next year,' Jake grins. 'I'm hoping to do rather well.'