On the way back from a wedding last night
6 of us in the taxi, one of the guys goes "let's have a bet on how old that place was, you get to chose a 20 year band and whoever's right wins.

Me: "what do they win?"
Him: "a duck"
Me: "a dead duck?"
Him: "no, a live one."
Me: "fucking sweet! I'm in"

We all joined in, even the taxi driver was invited in for a flutter. The clincher came when I stated that I'd always wanted a duck to call Duck Norris (and a goose called Goose Lee). We came to the conclusion that £4 each would probably cover it.

After choosing our years I got on the blower to my brother and his iphone to find out the answer.

My other half won, so I fully expect that sometime this week a live duck will be delivered to our house.

I'll keep you posted....
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Sun 10 May 2009, 19:51, 3 replies)

I once bet my mates I could get two packets of extra strong mints in my gob at once!
I managed it, but it took me nearly 30 minutes to scoff the bastards.
To cap it all off though, I only won 50p off them! How fuckin' dumb was that? I should have held out for a quid at least!
(The Yongy Bongy Bo brought to you in glorious monochrome, Sun 10 May 2009, 18:48, 2 replies)

I made a 14 line accumulator with 2 football results and 12 snooker results that netted me over a grand.
A low point would have to be betting on the colour of the queen's hat on ladies day at ascot.
( mike woz ere 7442200 & 7696970 getter, Sun 10 May 2009, 16:57, Reply)

I am death
I vowed to stop betting on horses 20 years ago.The horse I chose in an office grand national sweepsteak died.
Ten yearsish later,some workmates were talking about a horse winning everything in sight.It was called "roll a joint"
I bet on it.It died.
Renew vow.A few years later,Someone talks about a horse called "rust never sleeps".I like neil young too.I bet on the horse.It died.

When I was at college,A girl bet me 3 wispas I couldn't vault over the common room railing onto the floor below without hurting myself.It was a piece of piss,but I never collected the bet.She was killed in a car crash on the way to the first live aid concert a couple of weeks later.
(ruff secks R.I.P. uncle Jim :(, Sun 10 May 2009, 14:18, 11 replies)

Now - as some have said...
Casinos don't like you to win... fortunately for them luck is on their side, as we usually only enter such establishments in the early hours of the morning as they still serve alcohol - and the games can be fun.

Now to swing back a few years, I'd been kept waiting for a chap at New Street station for some couple of hours - I'd had a night out the night before and the 3 or beers had started to just top me up. I wasn't drunk but not sober - the meeting completed, I ventured to the boards to find I couldn't get a train for another 3 hours... ARSE.

So I went for a few more beers, it was pushing late when I started speaking to the South African/Finnish sounding posh lad - he was a charmer - I was swooning. So when the couple of lads went back to their hotel to get changed for going out that night, he suggested we go to the casino...

Alarm bells should have ringing, and I had another important meeting 400 miles away in Plymouth the next day, I really should have been going home.

So to the casino we trot - he tells me he's been kicked out of casinos in the past - for winning big, I am thinking this guy is crazy but oh so fun - Alarm bells number two should have started ringing when he said he'd play with my money - chip in a bit himself (he made a token payment of about fifty quid) to my £350... To the roulette! -
Oh no, a total game of chance my brain of logic said run, my mind of greed said play play play... I'd literally never played on it before - didnt understand the odds, didnt understand when to place your coiney things... did understand anything, I was being potentially robbed but I was loving it.

So we play.

A few spins and a few wins - wow - we'd made a few quid, we were up - I said lets cash out and let me go, but he was insistent. More tiles please vicar... so the bets started getting bigger... and we were actually winning, we'd easily doubled our money - I was being the annoying kid tugging on his arm - lets go, lets go, we had £200 chips in our pile...

This is when it got crazy - he was a strong and confident character, but I am bolshy, so when I noticed he pocketed a £100 chip I said my piece - he claimed it was a mistake, he put my mind at ease with his large blue eyes and sweeping blond tresses. And so the bet comes on... £1700 or so in one hit - my god, that's a small decent car on the table there - there's no way I am leaving that to waste - so I enforced the leg it cash out rule, we split the money in half (I don't know how he managed to convince me of that).

Back to the pub to meet his mates... A huge grin on my face, a belly full of beer and a small group of attractive young ladies that were swooning at our stuffed wallets, which we were showing off (great idea to do in Birmingham city center - I fully suggest it should be tried).

Beer, beer, club, champagne, girls, dancing oh and insatiable greed. We went to the other Casino - I gave him my winnings, I said I'd go to the bar - did I ever see him again, did I my arse... I'd kept a bit back for a taxi, so I could get home - and I did manage to get to Plymouth for my meeting...

Will I ever let the attention of foreign sounding casino hustling young men sway my judgment again - probably.
(feedingtimeatthezoo day 1 of his bikini diet started, Sun 10 May 2009, 13:47, Reply)

Jewels in the crown
Crown Casino in Melbourne is a horrid building. I am sure that the architect took the plans to Hitler’s bunker and made it ugly. The only thing of interest is the 40 foot gas flames that burst into life every couple of minutes out the front.

I was in Melbourne visiting a mate who had moved down there because he had fallen in love with a Melbournian girl, we shall call her Amy (FTWHN). She was great fun but, not the sort of girl most people would take home to meet mum. We had gone to the casino as my mate loves a bit of a gamble (read: would bet on two fly’s walking up a wall). The lower floor of Crown is like a concrete cave, dank, dark and filled with seedy looking desperate Asian men in old sneakers and stained jeans who truly reinforce the old adage that the only one winning is the casino.

We settled into a Blackjack table, minimum bet 5 bucks and was introduced a bloke he seemed to know, Harry, who had that look in his eye that suggested life had not only dealt him lemons but, shoved one up his arse with considerable force. So it began;

$5 down, card, card, hit, stay, win, $5 down, card, card, hit, stay, lose, $5 down, card, card, hit, stay, lose, $5 down, card, card, hit, stay, win, $5 down, card, card, hit, stay, lose, $5 down, card, card, hit, stay, win, $5 down, card, card, hit, stay, win, $5 down, card, card, hit, stay, lose, $5 down, card, card, hit, stay, lose, $5 down, card, card, hit, stay, lose, $5 down, card, card, hit, stay, win, $5 down, card, card, hit, stay, win, $5 down, card, card, hit, stay, lose, ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, for fuck sakes, does this every get exciting?

Amy had hovered in the back ground watching but, I could tell she was bored too (the fact she kept saying fuck this is boring sort of gave it away). I told my mate I was going to take a look around, to which he replied, “mmm”, and got up to leave, collecting my handfuls of $5 chips. The dealer asked me if I wanted to colour. Why would I want to colour, I am 28 years old? I haven’t carried crayons in months, but, apparently, that was casino speak for change lots of $5 chips into one $100 chip. So I set off for a look around the casino and Amy decided to come with me. We talked about the casino and betting and how dull it really was. Amy wanted to know what I though would be an interesting bet.

“Bet you $5 you wouldn’t show me your tits”

So she dragged me into fire escape and whipped out her norks, I understood my mate’s interest in this bird now.

“where’s me 5 bucks she said” and gratefully I paid. “well I bet you a fiver you won’t show me your knob” she laughed. So I got my 5 bucks back. This has potential though I, “$5 says you won’t show me your spage” oh so crafty. “I’m not taking that bet” she said and walked back onto the gaming floor. I tagged along in case she changed her mind and wanted to do some more gambling as she headed back to the Blackjack tables where nothing had changed.

“What did you see?” asked my mate.

“A couple of interesting things but, not as much as hoped for" I said

“mmmmm” he replied.
(bad_advice QOTW survivor from the first trollocost!, Sun 10 May 2009, 13:40, Reply)

A cautionary tale
Firstly, apologies for lack of funnies in this, and apologies for the length. It’s gonna be a biggun. It’s also fairly cathartic. And yes, it is related to gambling.

Wavy lines back in time.

January, 2008. Specifically the thirty first of January. The day I tried to kill myself for the second time. But I’m jumping ahead of the story here. Let’s go back before that. I come from a family of people with mental disorders. All three of my parents (I have a stepdad, and a biological dad and a mother) are all affected in one way or another by mental illness, or in the case of my stepdad, physical illness too as he’s diabetic amongst other things. My mother always hid hers very well from me and my younger brother until fairly recently. My biological dad, I inherited a lot from.

I had been an odd kid. I did well at school to start off with, but then found the jumping through hoops that school taught to be boring, so I got into drugs as did a lot of kids my age. I hid this from my parents, as you do, but my grades started slipping, and I started to fuck off from school. I was being bullied too, for being the smart kid and all that shit, because nobody knew much about me because I kept myself to myself. All they knew was, I was the smart kid, and therefore got picked on. So school started to slip. I lost weight, I lost self-esteem, I started to lose things I couldn’t afford to lose.

I tried to hang myself when I was 16 because it was the only way out that I could see to all my problems. My parents caught me just as I was looping my school tie around my neck after hanging it over the curtain rail. They told me to stop acting like a fool and to grow up. I was stood on a small chest of drawers in order to hang my tie over my curtain rail, and jumped off. The curtain rail snapped on my descent down. In retrospect, it was a really bad idea to try and hang myself off a really flimsy plastic curtain rail.

After that incident, I took up drinking. At the age of eighteen, I almost ODed on ecstasy and decided to stop doing drugs. So I began drinking even more to compensate. In the summer of 2006, I got my first serious girlfriend, B. She was pretty, a year older than me and absolutely filthy in bed. I later found out that because she had low self-esteem too, she slept with a lot of people at university, including one time asking a randomer in a pub if he had a condom on him, and when he replied in the affirmative, sat on his lap, spread her legs and hoiked her skirt up and got it on then and there with him.

I finished sixth form at the beginning of the summer of 2006. I scraped enough to get into university. I can remember about half of the first day of Freshers week, nothing more. I remember unpacking, waving my parents goodbye, and saying hi to the people who lived in the rooms next to mine in the halls of residence, and then I started drinking because someone offered free drinks.

I cannot remember my Freshers week. I cannot remember much of my first, first year of university because I spent it in an alcoholic haze. Because I had no parents around to criticise me, I was free to do whatever I wanted. I hit the bottle big time. The girlfriend, B, wasn’t a restraint as she used to try and match me in drinking. There were times when I was sober, and I do remember some of those times. I remember spending more money than I could afford on shiny things for B, and alcohol for me. I was a fan of vodka, and used to get the massive bottles and work my way through them. I became a loner at my university, and because nobody really saw me, I could get away with drinking lots. I toned it down when I was over in North Wales at B’s university.

I fail my first year of university. My grades are too low to let me pass, all because I spent most of the year pissed out of my skull and rarely turned up for lectures. I used to teach myself online whenever I could remember to. I had talent at writing, which is always useful when you’re doing a journalism degree, but I let myself down with everything else. The uni agree to let me resit the entire first year. Essentially, I have spent a gap year drinking.

Summer 2007, and we celebrate our one year anniversary. This is important for both of us, because in my case, I’ve never had a proper relationship, and she’s gone through men like a monkey goes through bananas. By now, the cracks were visible. Our arguments were now becoming weekly, and because I was drunk a lot of the time, I wouldn’t keep quiet. B, when she was at university, lived in a four storey house at the top. People used to say they could hear me shouting when I was at the top and they were on ground level.

I go back to uni at the end of the summer, moving in with two girls I knew and talked to the most when we were all in halls. I tried to tone down my drinking, but then decided it would be easier if I just kept drinking but turned up to lectures. So I do so. I make a couple of new friends at university, not many though. But I fall back into my old habits, and by Christmas, have stopped turning up to lectures once again.

Christmas 2007 comes and passes quietly. By now, mine and B’s relationship is really strained, and I am becoming more and more depressed. She comes over in the middle of January, and for once, I remain sober whilst she is over. I can remember the last time we had sex, even though it didn’t seem that it was going to be the last. She was violent, and because I was sober, I felt it more and ended up losing it halfway through. You might say the Meltyman struck. We argue again, and things are coming undone spectacularly. She tells me she needs some time to herself and that I shouldn’t contact her.

I spend the next two weeks in bed when she leaves. I hit the bottle again. I can remember waking up on the 31st of January 2007 and thinking to myself “I’m going to go jump in the canal today.” I text B some depressing song lyrics and tell her to forget about me. She correctly assumes that something is majorly wrong, and comes over with a mutual friend. We argue, and she tells me we’re splitting up. I didn’t see this coming because I was stupidly naïve like that, and try to drown myself. I get dragged to the doctor by B and her friend, who says that my suicidal tendencies aren’t good and that I’m being referred to the local hospital to see someone there.

So I go to the hospital and see someone there, who incorrectly assumes that I’m in a bad way because of splitting up with B that morning. I try to tell him that these thoughts and feelings were there before, but he ignores them. I’m told to go home and then to go see my GP in a few days so they can sort me out with some anti-depressants. B leaves, and our friend stays with me for a few days to make sure I don’t do anything stupid again.

I go to the GP. We have a chat. They refer me to the primary mental health care team. I go see them, and we have a chat. They diagnose me as being bipolar type two. They also try me out on various anti-depressants to see which ones I respond well to. I lie about my drinking habits, and carry on drinking extremely heavily. Even with my medication.

The third time I almost end up dead, is on the 24th of February 2008. I overdose on alcohol and sleeping pills and fluoxetine. I remember panicking, and ringing up the emergency services to get an ambulance before passing out in the doorway of my house. Since nobody else is home, because my two housemates have buggered off for a week in Ireland, I almost died from choking on my vomit and from hitting my head on the tiled surface of my hallway. I woke up in hospital, and swore never to drink again. I’ve been clean since then.

I found out a while after that, that I inherited my alcoholism from my biological dad, and my bipolarity from my mother, because whilst she doesn’t have the full thing, she does have a partial effect of it.

So here’s the gambling part. It’s gambling Jim, but not as we know it, but it’s the link here. Ever since I was a teenager, I have been gambling my life with a lot of major decisions. I could have died because I gambled incorrectly. I’m 21 now, and whilst I may not be dead, because of my gambling with drink and drugs, I am forever changed. I cannot form new memories very well, and I have a lot of trouble articulating my thoughts into speech. It often comes out incoherently or so badly phrased that I need to explain it to people. I have essentially gambled those away because I’ve been a fucking idiot and almost gotten myself killed repeatedly.

I don’t want people’s pity here, by the way. I brought it all on myself, and I’m a damn sight lucky to be sat here typing this as a warning to people, so save your pity for something else.

If you have problems, of any kind, don’t gamble with them and hope you get lucky. You may get lucky sometimes, like the first time I tried to kill myself by hanging myself, but at others, you won’t end up so lucky. I kept gambling my life, and now I’ve lost parts of me that I cannot replace. I am still young, and I have fucked myself over and cannot fix it. If you yourself have problems of any kind, whether its mental problems like mine, physical or whatever, or if you know anyone with problems, don’t gamble and expect to win all the time. Seek help, either for yourself or for your friend. The effects of your gambling may not be known until it’s far too late to fix.

Now for something more cheerful. I recently won a black fedora in a competition. Any ideas of what I should do with it? And what do black fedoras go well with?

Whew, that was a long fucker. Apologies again for length and lack of funnies. I just hope people take notice of it and don’t ignore it just because it's massive.
(Ghost Atreides enjoying incontestable health benefits on, Sun 10 May 2009, 13:26, 16 replies)

The Commodore 64-thousand dollar question
Way back in nineteen-eighty-whenever-it-was, when I was very young, my father would, on occasion, borrow a C64 from work. I have no idea why a ceramic chemistry lab would lend out such machines, but there you go. (He'd also bring home an ambulance from time to time, which - what with the lights, sirens and easy-going parents - was great fun, but another story entirely.)

I was always excited by this - even more excited than when my mother'd borrow the video from her employer (and almost as excited as when the ambulance turned up). This was a COMPUTER. It was probably from the FUTURE, and it had a couple of games you could play, too. There was the snake-eating-stuff game... and there was the dice game.

The dice game involved two simulated dice - well, two randomly-generated numbers between 1 and 6 in square frames. I can't remember what else happened: I think it just generated dice throws. Dad explained, though, that it had something to do with betting - and I was fascinated. Every time he brought the machine home, I'd plead with him... "Dad! Can we play gambling? Pleeeeeeeease?"

I don't think that that set me up for a lifetime of betting. I'm pretty sure of it.

A tenner says it didn't.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Sun 10 May 2009, 13:00, Reply)

Adieu, la belle France
So here I was, on the rear deck of a full cross channel ferry at 6pm on a February evening about to perform a degrading act that would at the very least earn me disgusted looks from the passing public, and at the worst, would leave me transferred to the kind and loving care of the Gendarmerie upon our docking in la belle Calais.

This is how it all happened...

~~~~~~wavy lines~~~~~~

It's 6th form at school. Young Mr Carrot is studying A-level German and is with several of his colleagues on his way to a town called Gelsenkirchen in Southeast Germany. As a result, we are shoved on a bus, sent down the country and over the sea. We'd started at 8am, and were due to arrive the same time the following morning.

There was a small issue with the ferry. It was called....a bar. Now as any of you who have previously sailed with the Pacific and Orient Ferry Company will know, the beer on their floating shitholes is basically overpriced piss that most camels will throw up. However, a supply of freshly minted Marks (which were accepted at the bar) were burning a hole in our pockets, so myself and a few friends bought some pints and sat up on deck. Why on deck? Well 2 reasons: 1, it was the only place we could smoke and 2, there was no fucking chance any of our teachers would come up here to check as it was blisteringly cold, and if we were disovered drinking we would be killed. To death.

So, the scene is set, the cold salty tang of the wind, the lukewarm Fosters, the sea spuming away beneath like a bathfull of jism...we were kings of the world (/Titanic.)

Unfortunately, and this is very unfortunate, we decided to play cards. The game of choice was Texas Hold 'em, so we settled down to play. We decided not to play with money, but with dares (for example, I'll see your "ask Mrs Smith if her breasts are real" and raise you a "waving my cock at a passing lorry on the Autoroute.") We had also agreed a specific dare - an "all in" if you will. This bet was only to be used in direst of circumstances, as it would see the game finished.

So I'm holding an ace of hearts and 7 of hearts in my hole cards and we all knock. Careful here Carrot, careful. The flop turns over an 8 of hearts, a 10 of hearts and an ace of spades. Ah. A pair. Right. I bet a stealing glasses off the school nerd. Graeme folds. Chris stays in. Dave stays in too.

The turn card is revealed. A nine of hearts. Aha! Well that's changed things a bit. Now Carrot, you could be onto something here, so be careful. I raise a mediocre flick of snot at the driver. Chris looks at me, and folds like a cheap whore. So it's me and Dave.

He sees me, and the river card goes down. Oh sweet juddering fuck. It's a six of hearts. A fucking six, and it means....oh yeah. I've got a straight flush.

OK Carrot, let's play this cool. Dave bluffs. You KNOW he bluffs. The best he can have is a flush and there's no WAY that can beat this. Let's be careful here.

"I'm going to put in a grope of Sandra Davies' breasts" (a low bet - she was teh slut).

Dave eyes me up "I see your grope and raise you a dirty sanchez administered by the winner."

Oh good God. This was serious. He couldn't win. He just fucking couldn't!

"I'm going all in. I bet...the unpleasantness."

"I see you" says Dave. Oh well, got to admire his guts...

I throw down my triumphant seven of hearts and get up to party, as well as prepare myself for the obscenity that Dave is about to have to perform.

And Dave turns over a Jack and Queen.








Ah.
( Undercovercarrot got done for gross misconduct on..., Sun 10 May 2009, 12:41, 3 replies)

Hello hello.
The closest I get to gambling is Food Roulette. Take the lables off of all of the tins in your cupboard, mix them up a bit, then pick one, cook it, and eat it. You can't beat the feeling of hoping for beans to go on your toast and discovering organic lentils.
Actually, the closest I get to gambling is every time I go for a beer, when I spunk my drinking money up the wall on a fruity and walk home feeling like King Twat of Twat Hall. I just figured Food Roulette was a bit more interesting than "...and I lost all my money! Casinos always win!" or "...in the end I was £70,000 up and a Russian supermodel fellated me before washing my dishes and tidying my flat. Which was nice."

Prizes* for anyone who plays Food Roulette next time their gran visits. Pics or it didn't happen.

*Prizes may be nonmaterial
(Paolo Nutini's Bikini Better than Frederick Fleet's optometrist, Sun 10 May 2009, 12:33, 4 replies)

Oral sex and Formula 1
I really fancied a girl who worked at the same place I did. We both turned out to be quite into F1 racing, and each had a preferred driver. I backed Coulthard and she backed Trulli. (this was a good few years ago before championship wins etc)
We placed a bet on whos driver would finish in highest position...but couldnt agree on what to stake. A tenner seemed a bit rich on our meagre salaries, and couldnt agree on a smaller amount.
We kind of dropped the matter till I wound her up a bit, so she stated that if Coulthard finished higher than Trulli, she would give me a blowjob in the staff toilet.
"yeah, right" I thought, and went back to work.
A few hours later, the miserable scotsman actually finished a few places higher, so I went to her desk to let her know. To my suprise, she took me to the bogs, sucked like a champion, swalllowed the lot and licked it clean.
I almost feinted.
This became a regular thing to spice up our weekends at work, with the looser having to perform oral sex on the winner. What with Coulthard being a bit useless actually and breaking his car very often, I spent more time giving than receiving, but I wasnt complaining too much.


Since then, betting seems a bit shit really.
(dave likes cheese, Sun 10 May 2009, 11:56, 5 replies)

and also
I didn't realise that the cocktail waitresses in Las Vegas will bring you free suff - but you are supposed to tip them, they're not your servants.

So I was on a 1 cent fruit machine and a waitress came over, wearing an odd kind of hooker/black tie combination.

"Good evening Sir! Can I get you anything from the bar?"
"Um yes, I'll have a beer please"

She came back with a beer and stood smiling at me while I drunk it, before looking confused and walking away.

A few minutes later she came past again. I said "Excuse me. EXCUSE ME. Another beer please".

She brought one over and dumped it on the fruit machine.

The third time she walked past I said "Hi, yes - 3 beers, 2 pina coladas, 20 marlboroughs, a cigar and a box of matches. And another beer please"

She replied "Sir why don't you go the fuck to the bar and buy them yourself".

rude.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Sun 10 May 2009, 10:34, Reply)

Public Transport Roulette
Every time I use a bus I play this.
Pick a seat.
Hope that the previous occupant didn't piss themselves. Odds get particularly unfavourable on Friday nights.
(Big D, Sun 10 May 2009, 3:08, 1 reply)

a thorougly gripping tale
Anyway, to cut a long story short, I threw a five and a four,
which beat his three and a two.

Another double six, followed by a double four and a double five.

After he'd thrown a three and a two, I threw a six and a three.

I eventually got into Irkutsk.
( nightbuffalo needs more duct tape, Sun 10 May 2009, 1:22, 4 replies)

I have just looked out of my open window and may get my head kicked in
Or my window
Because I heard some slightly drunken folk arguing outside.
Outside my house is a pile of bricks and gravel ( been waiting months for a wall and patio area to be finished)
Its seems to be a popular stopping point, the bricks are the right height to sit on when your legs get wobbly on the walk back from the pub across the road, done it myself a few times.
So there is a group of 4 lads leaning on the wall and it seems someone has bet another that they cant jump over the pile of bricks.
And they are right, he cant.
I just watched a lad run at it, launch himself and fail in spectacular fashion.
He was face down in the gravel, his legs still over the bricks.
And Im laughing like a loon.
and they are looking up at me asking whats the fuck i'm laughing at.
Makes a tactical withdrawal, close window and waits till they go.
They havnt yet.
If I dont appear here again, suggestions for my headstone greatly appreciated ;)
(insomniac-surfer oh go on then, just this once, Sun 10 May 2009, 0:06, 4 replies)

$1000 on Roulette
I was in Vegas, the Bellagio to be exact, and doing quite well - I was probably about 10 grand up for the night, which was pretty much a lifetime record.

Anyway, many drinks later I'm standing next to the roulette table watching some friends play, and not really paying much attention to the game. My girlfriend, who I hadn't seen for a couple of hours suddenly bounds up to me and excitedly asks me how I was doing (and how we were going to find next month's rent).

Leaning backwards on the roulette table, I nonchalantly pulled a yellow $1000 chip from my pocket, turned around, and pretended to place it on the number nearest to me, number 34.

As the chip touched the felt I suddenly heard a voice. "Hey!". Looking up I saw a large LED-lit 34, and the entire table angrily staring at me, my fingers still clutching the chip. I had literally put my bet down the second the number had come up.

I apologised for my drunkeness and swiftly left, before they took me into the back room to break my hands with a hammer.
(borovan, Sat 9 May 2009, 23:43, Reply)

The more I read about 'em
The less I want to go to a casino. They're misery pits that kick out anyone that makes cash of 'em instead of the other way around. The house *always* wins, even if it means beating the shit out of you in the carpark and taking your winnings back.

Buggrit, not my cup of tea (thick, tar-like brew, dash of milk, no sugar).
(Scritty Bakerman., Sat 9 May 2009, 22:33, Reply)

Gamboling
I have never really gambled that much I must say, although I did bet my friend £10 that he couldn’t go down a very long cobbled street in a trolley one drunken evening.

Not only did he achieve it, he used the £10 he won from me to partially go towards paying the £1700 dental bill that he incurred by smashing his front teeth into a curb head first when the trolley hit it. He does have lovely porcelain teeth now.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Sat 9 May 2009, 22:13, Reply)

I hope to never win the lottery
^This is something my mum has always said. I was always sceptical, to be honest. Not so much now.

I don't really gamble, but when I was around 12 I used to pick up lottery scratch cards from the pavement on my way home from school. The friend I walked with was obviously a bit embarrassed about this and didn't want to be seen with me as I bent down to pick them up.

Until, that was, I found one that had won £200. I was so happy. Seriously, it was one of the best moments of my life in terms of unbridled exitement. I ran straight to the local newsagents (where the staff knew me from my constant purchasing of penny sweets) and asked them to double check. It was real alright, but I couldn't claim as I was under 16. So I went home and hid it in the back of my stereo speakers until my parents came home. I was buzzing like a capitalist version of charlie and the chocolate factory.

When my mum came in, I showed her and we went to Sainsbury's to claim it. I told the woman what happened and she was really happpy for me. I felt like a star for the day - everyone geniunely so happy for me. And then I learned an important lesson about money...it makes things complicated.

The embarrassed friend was suddenly pissed off the next day. Just the normal jealousy of a kid, but it shat all over my excitement. Then my brother was grumpy when he saw me counting out the £20 notes on the front room floor (c'mon I felt like a millionaire...I had to relish it!). So, in the end I begrudgingly gave £20 to the friend as a good will gesture and rather more happily gave my brother £60 to cheer up. Almost half of the money was spent on making the people around me as happy as before I'd got it. Ffs.

In the end I bought a watch, some cds, and computer games. I didn't last long, but that was the point really - to buy things I wouldn't normally. But I learned one thing about the lottery...If you were to ever win the jackpot, things would get very complicated and you'd probably have to chuck cash at people to stop them from hating you. I don't really want to turn friendship into a process of monetary appeasement so I don't play.

Or, on the other hand, I could always just get rid of my poor mates and buy some new rich ones. But rich people all seem like pricks. :(
( thiswasmyclone, Sat 9 May 2009, 20:45, 5 replies)

Poker with friends
£5 buy in game at a friends house, I was in pretty good shape, second in the game behind the hosts girlfriend who'd managed to luck into a HUGE win earlier in the game.

I'd hit a flush off the flop and started to push the betting up, on the turn card there was the possibility of a straight but seemed unlikely - they'd have to have the other 2 in their hand. Bet higher.

River card comes up to make it 1 card needed to make the straight, she goes all, I for some reason match. I show my flush and she smiles and goes "Straight!".

I almost let her take the chips and then realised she'd managed 4 consecutive cards and had hit them off the flop. We actually had to find a rule book to prove that a straight was 5 sequential cards, not 4!
(UranusHertz is interested in astronomy and electronics, Sat 9 May 2009, 20:32, 2 replies)

Brown Sugar
No, sadly this post has nothing to do with the Rolling Stones. It started at College, where most of my embarrassing stories start.

There was a College cafe in which the assorted student detritus would assemble when we didn't have lectures (and sometimes when we did, because we were 'rebels without a cause' at that age.) I used to while the time away, mainly because I lived 40 miles away from campus and couldn't just pop home for lunch like most.

My friends and I were bored. We had brought in a toaster the previous week, and it had been confiscated. Some idiot had bought £10 worth of jukebox credit and used it to inflict the Crazy Frog song on the whole establishment, resulting in the cafe staff disconnecting the machine. Nobody had a laptop or even a pack of cards and nobody could be bothered to traipse down to the shops.

Bored and possible high from eating the free packets of sugar supplied for coffees, an idea suddenly hit me. Not a good one, mind.

"Who bets I can snort this pack of sugar?" I piped up, waving one of the packets around.

"50p says you can't," said my mate Tom. Everyone else shrugged; they had run out of worthy cash. This was a pretty shite amount. Suddenly I realised I could probably get a cookie for 40p. "You're on!"

Now people started to get interested. Where they had one thought I was a nutter, they now had incontestible proof. I laid down a dog-eared copy of the NME (the place was littered with them), ripped the top off of the sachet and poured it in a straight line across the paper. I closed my nostril. I leant over...Someone laughed feebly.

I did it, to be fair, and it was a big mistake. In hindsight, I wish I'd had the sense to use white sugar. Brown sugar has big granules. It also goes a bit syrupy. I had a double English Lang lecture straight after this, and I had to sit through it with some kind of horrid syrupy, scratchy residue in the back of my nose and throat. I was coughing up little brown lumps, sneezing so hard my eyes were running, cutting my throat whenever I swallowed...it was agony. Plus Tom didn't give me my 50p.

Luckily, it turned out that my sinuses were generally saved from lasting damage when I woke up the next morning to find the sugary gunk had dissapated. And Tom turned out to be a very close friend of my boyfriend, who made him give me to 50p. Result.

Length? An A4 mag page's worth.
(theneet began to cut her hair and long for balls, Sat 9 May 2009, 20:01, 1 reply)

Think
of a number between one and ten. Double it. Times it by eight.

I bet I can guess what the number is. If I guess right I'll have to do anything you want me to do - including going to bed with you.

Did I guess right?
(jellyfish wish, Sat 9 May 2009, 19:24, 4 replies)

Matched Betting - Kinda pearoasting from the "Get Rich Quick" QOTW
N.B. I've updated these notes from the original post to what was my end position. I've stopped doing this now, mainly due to work time pressures, but the money that I made was very welcome help in paying off my mortgage at the start of this year. Figured it was appropriate for here too...

Over 6 months during 2008, I made £4,268 by betting with online bookies, and had I continued, I could have carried on making at least a couple of hundred a month - depending on the time I was willing to invest.

At the time of the get rich quick question, I was pondering whether to post this, mainly in case I scrambled my own golden egg (if you'll pardon the mixed metaphors). But I finally came to the conclusion that the information is out there if you look for it, so I might as well. When I've described it to other people, I've always said that it's not a get rich quick scheme. You can see my numbers above, so I'll let you decide how quick it is!

This is an entirely legitimate, low risk, way to make some extra money, and I'm quite happy to tell anyone who's interested all about it. You do need a some money up front - around about £150 or so is good - but this is purely for working capital requirements (you're not buying something up front or selling things on).

Purely for the sake of berevity, I don't want to go into all the details here (see the linky below). However, the idea is to take advantage of the introductory free-bet offers made by on-line bookmakers. Sounds risky? It isn't - because it uses a concept called matched betting to eliminate the risk while making sure you are able to extract the value of the free bet. It can be slightly complicated though - you need to be comfortable with spreadsheets, and you will need to understand how betting exchanges like Betfair work!

I want to make one point very clear. While it's dealing with bookmakers and betting exchanges - so long as you do it properly and follow the guidelines, this is not gambling (or at least not as it's normally defined).

Apologies if this sounds a bit too much like a sales pitch. There's nothing directly in it for me (although there are ways you can help me out if you decide to do this). I'm certainly not asking you for any money, e.g. you don't have to buy a "system". You just need to have half a brain, some spare time, and some patience while you're learning how to do it! It worked out well for me...

If you're interested, I've put my notes online:

Here's the Linky.
(Last Post was a while ago, and some of the specific offers will be out of date, but the site'll give you an idea of the concepts)

If you've got any questions, then gaz me (although I'm not around as much as I used to be, so might take a while to respond!)
( Fireflier La la la la, not listening on, Sat 9 May 2009, 17:56, 4 replies)

It's not gambling when it's free
I was never much of a liker of gambling, but it turns out it's a lot more fun when there's no risk involved, and it makes you a fair amount of cash (for a student anyway). Here's the story, some of you may have heard of the internet cashback site Quidco - it works by paying commision to users who buy products through their site (Basically an affiliate scheme, but you get the money). It's good for getting a few quid from online shopping but you can make some serious (again, student) money by taking up offers with betting sites (mostly bingo) who will give you say £30 cashback for signing up and betting £10 - A £20 profit none-the-less.

Now this strategy is good and can make you a good couple of hundred pounds, but the real luck came from 2 incredibly lucky incidents at the roulette tables - The first time I was sitting in my room at 2AM betting through my £20 of money on roulette (the usual, red one go, black the next), it got me up a bit but started to tank dramatically, with my last £4 my friend suggested I bet on a single number, of odds 36-1, I thought nothing of it and as the wheel span edged to close the window, before i realised i had won - £144 (ish), enough to keep me in booze and curry for at least a week, result! Cash my money, never go back.

To people dismay I played this again on a different site, although this time it was only a £2 bet, and won £72. Result++. My friends don't like me so much anymore...

Combined with About £50 in bingo wins I'm up about £500 with no risk, and had a hell of a time playing it - You should try it too :)
(benbread, Sat 9 May 2009, 16:23, 4 replies)

seagull roulette
I farmed on an island for several years and in my spare time I worked as a stern-hand on a lobster boat. My job was to band the caught lobsters and re-bait the pockets that go into the traps. I spent a lot of time emptying old, disgusting herring from bait pockets and stuffing them with new, disgusting herring. But it was fun.

The captain of the boat hated gulls. I loved them. I used to dump some of the old bait pockets on the stern table to attract the ring-billed, herring, and black-backed gulls, much to his consternation. A few of the birds would let me get pretty close to them.

One day I bet the captain of the boat $50 that I could get a gull to take a herring from my hand. I have quite a bit of experience in wildlife rehabilitation and I'm familiar with the audacity of the black-backed gulls. He went in for the bet. The first immature greater black-backed gull that landed on the stern table took not one, but two, herring right from my hand. Needless to say, I was $50 richer and feeling pretty smug.
(insectra, Sat 9 May 2009, 16:03, 1 reply)

One man's father had had a great number of problems with gambling
this lead the men to develop quite the disliking of the habit. Now, it was his turn to be a father, and so he thought he'd try and pass on some of what he learnt to his son.

Sitting watching a typical Sunday cowboy flick he turns to his young son, "I bet you 5 pound the Indians win this."
His son pounced on the chance, come on, it's a cowboy and indians film, the cowboys always win!

It was Custer's Last Stand.

The plan probably backfired, though, more than learn to distrust gambling he probably instead learned to distrust his dad.
(Frozen_Banana Shaved against the grain; thoroughly unrewarding., Sat 9 May 2009, 15:45, Reply)

The Lottery
To set the record straight, the lottery is a game of probability and your risk-tolerance, not a "tax on the stupid".

The chance of all 6 of your numbers being drawn is 1-in-13,983,816 - [(49*48*47*46*45*44)/(1*2*3*4*5*6)].

If the prize is £13,983,816 then spending £1 on a 6-ball ticket is a risk-neutral event [ignoring that 2 tickets can share a prize, but that there's a prize on 3/4/5 balls generally negates that].

Even so, if someone bets £1 on a prize less than £13,983,816, it doesn't make them stupid - just makes them risk-loving. That is, the 1-in-13,983,316 chance of winning say, £10 million, is worth £1 to the risk-lover, rather than the £0.7151 that a risk-neutral agent would pay.

So stupidity? No.

A game of probability played by agents with differing risk-profiles? Yes.
(TheJacksonSixth, Sat 9 May 2009, 15:06, 9 replies)

Casinos
I worked in a casino for about three months while I was between other jobs. This involved six weeks of training, in the morning and afternoon before it got busy - in roulette (90% of the training), brag, and hold-em - then six weeks of working.

The training was quite fun, as there were about a dozen of us with one trainer and we got fairly friendly; also, one of us took turns dealing roulette while the others would play. So a bit of a laugh really.

However to work in a casino you have to have a license, and several of us hadn't got them by the end of the six weeks, so there were about four of us handing out sandwiches, coffees and fetching drinks, from 6pm or 8pm to 6am. I wasn't overly bothered though as I was leaving for China in the near future, and really only working there to save the airfare.

But it quickly became apparent what social inadequates the regular gamplers were - sitting steadfast and solitary in front of the fruit machines for hour after hour, or spunking away chips in a desperate search for some meaning in their life, or the old women who'd moved on from being bingo junkies to the casino crack whom we kept alive on cheap sandwiches and instant coffee as they wiped out their pensions.

Oddly enough the real hard-core regulars were primarily Chinese; they'd sit there until 6am every time, sipping scalding-hot water and being miserable or aggressively-voiced. Which inspired a workmate and I to compose a racist ditty in their honour, of which I can only remember a few choice couplets:

The slanty-eyed fucks
Are down in their luck...

Can't handle their drink
And fucking well stink...

The whole thing was just a piss-take, not even remotely serious. However my stupid fucking workmate left the fucking thing pinned up in the kitchen, and we got fired. Desrvedly for stupidity but we are not in the slightest bit racist.

I was shitting myself. I needed the job for the airfare, which of course I hadn't fully saved up. I walked down the road after the firing and met a mate of mine. We got drunk in typical fashion then went to a casino, not my one but one close by which I'd never been to - it was my first time in as a customer. I was amazed to see all the regulars there - that was where they went when they didn't go the casino I'd worked in!!

I'd figured out from endless hours playing roulette (five weeks out of the six) that the best way to play is on the dozens (1-12, 13-24, 25-36) or the columns (1, 4, 7 etc; 3, 6, 9 etc). The odds are 2-1 so stick a 5-quid chip on two of them and you've got a 66% chance of a 50% increase in your money, e.g. of going from 10 to 15. Which is pretty decent odds in my book. (Don't however play both the columns and the dozens because it goes from 66% to 4-9)

I came out the place 200 quid richer and paid for my flights the next day.
(McChinaman banned, Sat 9 May 2009, 14:02, 1 reply)

Christmas at my girlfriend’s parents’.
Playing poker.

There are just three of us left in:
– My girlfriend’s “Monday night is cards night” cousin,
– Me - maybe not quite such a card sharp, but I did once play poker every lunchtime for a year, and I reckon that my knowledge of probabilities will help me,
– My girlfriend’s mum who appears to have never played any card game before in her life. When she deals, there’s an even chance that we won’t all have the same number of cards, or someone will be trying to get a pair for the Rules of Bridge card. Her attempt at a riffle shuffle nearly blinds half the table. She is either very, very bad at cards or very, very good at bluffing.

The three of us have been locked into the final rounds for over an hour, and my girlfriend's mum has just asked if she gets anything for all her cards being the same colour. Other choice lines from her this evening have been “What’s a flush again?” (more rounds than not) and “Two pairs? Oh, well done. I only had three nines.”

Do you really need me to tell you who won?
(salvadorevincent, Sat 9 May 2009, 13:33, 1 reply)