I used to work in the betting industry for 18 months. I got a lot of pleasure out of it, indeed it was a pleasure to get out of it!
So you see many characters, some good people, some waifs and strays, some downright objectionable people, which brings me on to today’s story.
I walked into the local betting shop to watch the last two races from Cheltenham. In walked a little bloke, what he lacked in stature, he certainly made up for with a big and foul mouth.
He apparently was one successful bet away from £1,000. The race was run, and then the conspiracy theories started. “It’s all crooked, it’s all a conspiracy, poor old punter loses again”. I wouldn’t have minded him complaining, but the complaint was repeated ad nauseum for the next twenty minutes, to anyone who cared to listen. It was like a scratched bloody record. Hard luck story? Don’t talk to me about hard luck stories. I’ve had a few myself. It weren’t his fault that he’s a lousy punter and he didn’t win, it was someone else’s!
Then to rub salt into a very deep wound, he continued to bet on anything that moved, losing more money and blaming everything else but himself. Tut tut. Then quiet old me at the back of the shop doubles his money from £15 to £30 as my horse won. He won nothing at all, which was just as well. He’s probably still complaining now. Stupid idiot.
It’s only a game of chance, just like life. If you don’t like it, don’t play it.