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Broke the bank at Las Vegas, or won a packet of smokes for getting your tinkle out in class? Outrageous, heroic or plain stupid bets.
Suggested by SpankyHanky
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 7 May 2009, 13:04)
Pages: Popular, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1
This one time I knocked out Mr. T. then went to Vegas and won loads of money off of the Craps.
( Jam Master Geordie Hero of B3ta., Mon 11 May 2009, 14:43, 5 replies)
Tails you lose.
(Jugular, Mon 11 May 2009, 14:40, 3 replies)
Another boob-related bet
And I will admit to having done this, while very, very drunk:
say to your chosen victim of sexual assault: "I bet you a tenner I can guess the weight of your boobs". When she agrees, say something rdiculous like "100 pounds". When she attempts to part you from your tenner, say "hang on, I'll have to weigh them now" then grab them both and wobble them about while shouting "waaaaaaayyyyyyy!"
God's honest truth, I did this to a bird I met in a pub in London and ended up shagging her. She was absolutely minging, like, but a shag's a shag.
(ScousersPet, Mon 11 May 2009, 14:07, 5 replies)
pub work
Brings risks.
The three major ones being alcohol, fruit machine and pool addiction.
One and three are easily resolved by access to a) the cellar and b) the keys to the pool table.
Many a happy hour was spent drinking 'free' bottles of Holstein Pils while playing pool with the regulars for nothing (carefully avoiding having to use the cue that the fat lady stuffed up her chuff as per a previous QOTW answer) and, in the process, saving enough Holstein Bottle Tops to send off for two free Zippos lighters.
But the fruit machine was to be my undoing.
Now, I'm an old git, so some of you young 'uns may not remember the days when if a Fruit Machine paid out over a certain amount (I think it may have been as low as three quid) it paid you in useless tokens. Some pubs would swap these for cash at the bar. Some wouldn't.
I'd figured that if I refused, they would eventually all go back into the machine. So I turned into a cunt. I wouldn't change them, I wouldn't let people buy beer with them, I'd just watch as they eventually turned back and ploughed them unhappily back into Cops & Robbers. I'm not even sure if what I was doing was legal, but I guess it was individual pubs choice as to how they handled the tokens.
And when they'd done, I'd get a pound or so worth of tokens from the glass on the till and go and win them all back, then change them for cash for myself.
I did it for weeks, playing every hour or so and topping up my wages by anything up to sixty odd quid a shift.
It pissed off some punters, understandably, but what did I care, I wasn't going to be working there forever. I was pretty much biding my time until I was sacked to put a fire under my arse to go get a proper job.
Trouble is, I wasn't sacked.
Instead I was beaten up and mugged after closing time one night by a particularly irate customer.
I never went back.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Mon 11 May 2009, 13:57, 3 replies)
When the national lottery was launched, the very first week everyone I knew myself including thought they were going to win, in those dizzy moments before the balls were called out we all thought we would win. Thoughts raced through our minds "omg, this is it" "things will never be the same" Only to be meet by crushing disappointment. We all played again the next week but just couldn't live with that shit feeling on Saturday (I'm not talking about the John Barrowmen show) but the feeling that some other bastard that wasn't us, was jumping up and down at that moment as we sunk into our Casualty induced comas.
(Zealize Zealize, Mon 11 May 2009, 13:47, Reply)
How to win without betting...and how to risk losing it all again
It had been a long afternoon/evening getting sozzled in central London with three old school friends. Pints followed crips followed pints followed curry...and there was much rejoicing.
During the hours of rambling conversation, I accurately predicted the scorelines of the two footie matches that had been on. This did not go unnoticed, and it was pointed out that I'd been right about some other things (long forgotten) earlier in the week.
One of the guys decided to make the most of my good run of form, and pressed ten pounds into my hand - drunkenly insisting that I pick whatever numbers I wanted for the Euromillions rollover in the coming week.
I too must have been drunk as I tried to refuse the money, telling him the lottery was a waste of time and that I wouldn't do it even if he gave it to me. But it was to no avail and I came out of the night with an extra tenner in my wallet.
As with all great drunken plans, it was completely forgotten the next morning, and no one ever mentioned it again.
But I did recall it later. And did I buy the ticket? Not a chance! I've always thought the lottery was a mug's game and I've just made a tenner without betting!
...(This probably makes me a bad person)...
But having told this story, I should now say that two out of the three guys are b3ta readers. They know my username. We joyfully recall front page images when we're in the pub at the end of the day. They might well remember this...
So you have a moral choice, good b3ta folk. Your clicks could lose me ten quid. I am in your hands.
(annexed, Mon 11 May 2009, 13:40, 1 reply)
Gamble?
As I am a bit of a tightwad when it comes to losing money I cannot really relate any tales of losing my months wage on a fruit machine, card table etc etc. I have, however, taken a few gambles with my own life on various occasions and thought I would regale you with the tale of the one of those instead.
I am a bit of a nerd and during my spare time I would spend it on line under my alias, pissing about with likeminded people and attempting the odd bit of hacking here and there (I am a Computer programmer by day so this thing is pretty easy for me).
Anywhoo, one day I was playing an online game when it all went wrong. I was dragged into an office and interrogated for acts of terrorism and forced to wear a electronic tracking device- all thanks to me dicking about on the internet (I am making light of the situation but believe me it was pretty creepy at the time).
To make the situation worse I later met up with the so called terrorist organisation (who were looking for me too) and found out a few home truths about the government and the so called officials that I had been interrogated by. This is where I took the first real gamble in my life and took the red pill to go to reality.
I don't know what was worse living in bliss in the fake computer controlled world or living in the real world underground wearing rags, and knowing that I have spawned two sequel films that were dire.
(mon bison powered by magnets, Mon 11 May 2009, 13:40, Reply)
I like a gamble...
... which is why I never wear condoms when porking ladies of the night in third world countries.
(rampants, Mon 11 May 2009, 12:50, 6 replies)
The words to "O Little Town of Bethelehem" fit perfectly to the tune of "The House of the Rising Sun"? Try it next time at Midnight Mass-it's hilarious!
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Mon 11 May 2009, 12:29, 3 replies)
There is a house
In new Orleans...
(Sing along if you know the words!)
( MatJ LOOK, Mon 11 May 2009, 11:46, 4 replies)
High stakes gambling
Some people like to push their luck a little too far
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Mon 11 May 2009, 11:28, 9 replies)
Gambling for my love
Many years ago during my Nimbin phase, I won a small amount of money in the Brisbane casino*, which I used to travel to Nimbin. Nimbin, for those who don't know is a small town in Northern New South Wales, Australia, famed for its hippy population and rather lax attitude to marijuana.
On the day I arrived in Nimbin, I fell in serious lust with a beautiful hippy bird. 22, smoking hot, free spirited and wicked personality.
Nothing was too much for this girl, and on the day I met her we finished up doing it in the park mid afternoon (it was my Nimbin phase).
She invited me to stay at her commune up the in hills. I couldn't believe my luck, the object of my desire, had practically asked me to move in!!
We arrived at the commune, which was actually a bunch of old tarpaulins slung between the trees with a smoky fire in the middle and an aroma that still reminds me of fried BO mixed with rotting chicken giblets. I got to meet the other commune residents, mostly dirty hairy blokes of ages ranging from 18 to 50. The ratio of guys to girls was 32 to 3, and the other two sheilas where not exactly hot stuff.
So we sat around the fire and did the Nimbin thing, and as the sun disappeared over the horizon, the chief hippy bloke (who liked to be called Star Shine but, I think his name was Malcolm) insisted we pray to Hughie, the chosen God of the commune for rain. Apparently rain would cause the mushrooms to grow, and you can't have enough mushrooms man.
It was at this point I cursed my mum for not telling me about free love. The cute 22 year old hippy I was making plans to rescue from this hill side hell hole snuggled up to Star Shine and gave him a public blow job as we sat around the fire. The other resident's didn't bat an eye lid and one of the younger blokes reminded her repeatedly that she had promised to sleep with him that night.
I was heartbroken, this future Mrs bad advice I had known for almost 7 hours was not looking for anything exclusive. One of the other female residents offered to sooth me but, as she smelt like she had shit and pissed her dacks about a week prior I politely declined.
I stayed the night, with the sounds of Miss Free Love and her suitor rutting under a tarp about 5 feet away. I slept for about an hour before the heavens opened and the rain came down (farken Hughie) and at 3am drenched and much wiser to the ways of commune living dragged my sorry arse back down the hill to town (2 hour walk) and about 7.30am thumbed a ride to Mullwilimbah vowing never to waste my casino* winnings on visting Nimbin again.
*this is a complete lie but, allows me to post on topic for a subject I don't have much to contribute too
(bad_advice QOTW survivor from the first trollocost!, Mon 11 May 2009, 11:21, 2 replies)
EuroMillions take two
Our 27-person syndicate didn't win a penny on Friday night (surprise, surprise), however given the size of the prize fund I started speculating that it might be worth, hypothetically of course, buying every single ticket.
Most people thought this was a crazy idea, but now that the draw's happened I've done all the maths to see what would have happened:
Had I bought every ticket I would have spent -£114,413,040
I would have won:
5 balls + 2 lucky stars: 1 x £74,921,032.10 (as would the other jackpot winner)
5 balls + 1 lucky star: 14 x £407,095.63 = £5,699,338.78
5 balls: 21 x £77,855.24 = £1,634,960.14
4 balls + 2 lucky stars: 225 x£6,164.10 = £1,386,922.17
4 balls + 1 lucky star: 3,150 x £270.14 = £850,944.38
4 balls: 4,725 x £122.94 = £580,907.57
3 balls + 2 lucky stars: 9,900 x £93.96 = £930,167.26
3 balls + 1 lucky star: 138,600 x £30.68 = £4,252,207.16
2 balls + 2 lucky stars: 141,900 x £28.49 = £4,042,337.05
3 balls: 207,900 x £18.18 = £3,780,412.09
1 ball + 2 lucky stars: 744,975 x £12.29 = £9,155,057.10
2 balls + 1 lucky star: 1,986,600 x £9.83 = £19,527,321.77
Total winnings: £126,761,607.58
Profit: £12,348,567.58
Then again, it would have taken approximately 14.5 man years to manually buy every ticket, so the maths doesn't really tell the whole story.
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Mon 11 May 2009, 11:04, 16 replies)
MJ Perry's story reminds me of a good one...
Go up to a girl and say
"I bet you 50p I can make your boobs move without touching them"
When she agrees, grab her boobs, give them a squeeze, and give her 50p. Well worth it, methinks!
(The Kwyjibo A big, dumb, balding North American ape., Mon 11 May 2009, 10:33, 3 replies)
A chap
in my brother's year at school ate a handful of muddy worms for £5.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Mon 11 May 2009, 9:52, 1 reply)
I work...
.... as an inspector in a Casino. I've seen some pretty dumb bets made by a lot of dumb pretty people. Doubling down on a Blackjack score of twenty, for example. Betting on odd 'because my favourite number is 30'. I could go on.
But the biggest and quickest waste of money i've ever seen came a few years ago. A chinaman walks up to my roulette table, throws me £3000 to change into cash chips, and plasters the layout, covering virtually every single number except one.
Twenty seconds later, that number comes in. I clear the chips and keep my head down, avoiding eye contact and bracing myself for a barrage of abuse and death threats that never materialise.
Looking up, i see the chinese fella giggle a few times, then walk off with a smile on his face.
All good fun, eh?
(searlichek, Mon 11 May 2009, 9:43, Reply)
Lotto Blues.
One of the guys I work with always put the same numbers on every saturday. A few small wins, nothing life changing. Then comes the start of the Wednesday draw. He decided against it. Yup, his numbers came up the first wednesday. He stopped doing the lotto and has never gambled since. He reckons he missed all his luck in one go.
(porkylips looks better as the sun goes down., Mon 11 May 2009, 9:41, Reply)
Many Moons Ago
I wrote this about 2 days after it happened....10 years ago.
I apologise for the bad spelling, terrible grammar and the fact that I haven't bothered to re-read it before posting.
~~~~~~~~~~~~Obligitory Wavy Lines~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I got to Kuala Lumpur for the second time after my day trip to Malacca. I was doing what backpackers do and just walking about taking in the sights of the area around Chinatown when a middle-aged Malaysian woman approached me and asked if I knew where a particular road was. With my trusty Lonely Planet to hand I was able to help. Anyway she seemed harmless enough and she started asking about London and explained that her sister was going to London in a few weeks time and could I spare some time to talk to her about it.
At the time I was rushing off to make a phone call home and had to refuse her offer of a drink but agreed to meet her the following day at 1pm at the nearby McDonalds.
Okay...immediately my mind goes bonkers...what does she want ? ..my body, my money (more likely) or something else ? So I decided to meet her and if it got too hairy I could always overpower her (they're only little) and run away before any damage could be done to my body or wallet.
So, as the big hand approached the twelve and the little hand was on the one I was standing outside the designated spot. She wasn't. But from behind me I heard my name being called out (very weird in a foreign country)and she had been waiting inside.
We sat down for a bit, she bought me a coke and we chatted...she said that it would be easy if I could spare half an hour or so right there and then to talk to her sister, but could we go shopping first. (Why is it I always end up with girls/women who want to wander around shopping malls ?) So I got in a cab with her and off we went. Just before this happened I bumped into the bi-sexual jewish woman I met a few days ago and told her where I was going and with whom, just to be safe.
So a couple of cab rides later and I'm in someone's home. Some Malaysian guy called Tom Ton. He introduces himself and explains that he is a croupier at the local big casino and that he too is going off to London in a few weeks to visit the Ritz casino and to go to a seminar on crouping.
Anyway, this is the bit that gets interesting.....
He begins to tell me about the VIP rooms in the casino where there are no cameras, only supervisors and the players play against themselves not the house who only take a percentage of the winnings.
He then starts his "proposal" as he kept putting it. He said there was a way that we could make a lot of money, 100,000 ringgit (nearly 15,000 quid) split three ways between myself, him and the supervisor.
He then takes me up to a room where there is a small table, some cards and a few large tiddlywinks. He then proceeds to show me how the scam works. Okay...I'm already feeling edgy but I'm keeping calm, so he shows me the hand signals, the circumstances, how to play the cards, how to bet against it and we practice for a bit. This was easy. It could work, I kept thinking.
All the time he's talking about a game that occurred last night between a couple of tycoons, one from Brunei and one from Singapore. The Brunei guy won and was coming over to take his "lucky dealer" to lunch.
So there we are practicing away, the woman who I originally met comes in and sits next to me while this goes on. Suddenly...Mr Brunei comes in, Tom Ton explains that I was playing blackjack against a Chinese guy last night and lost 10,000 ringgit, Mr Brunei commiserates me. Tom Ton then introduces the woman as my girlfriend, dammit...I'd like to think I have better taste than that.
It's at this point I started to make hints that I wanted to leave but the woman just kept kicking my leg as if saying don't go anywhere. So I stayed.
Tom Tun then suggests a 'fun game' between myself and Mr Brunei. Tom Tun produces 150 ringgit (30 quid) saying that as I had lost so much last night he would give me back his tip so I could play. Mr Brunei pulls out a bound wad worth 2000 ringgit (290 quid) and we begin to play.
Now as you can guess within about 2-3 hands I was sitting on 1000 ringgit due to the interesting addition to the game that we had been practicing... but I still couldn't help but think all was little to good. Then came a funny hand...I ended up with 21 with 3 cards. Mr Brunei had an ace showing and the dealer told me he had a 9 hidden. This was then simple, I bet almost everything..then the git raised me, by 500 ringgit, 200 of which I didn't have. Tom Tun then offers me credit for the 200 and was clearly saying to me do it. I got confused and a little concerned about this credit thing and visions of me trying to leave the house with 3000 in credit to this guy suddenly danced elaborately around my mind. So I threw it in. Didn't cover and lost the hand, much to the amazement of the 3 other people in the room. This obviously bothered me a little, why was Mr Brunei so sure that I should be carrying on...it's almost like he knew.
I managed to get out of the room with my 'girlfriend' under some pretence of making an important phone call. Tom Ton's attitude changed a little after that and the woman was a little confused.
I apologised to the guy (?) and explained that I had lost trust in him due to the unknown addition of this real game without warning and explained that I felt threatened and the woman got me out of the house and back to near where I was staying. I explained more clearly to her about what had happened. I think she understood and was going to try and convey this to Tom Ton who had been banging on about losing 150 ringgit.
I almost became part of a half decent scam and nearly made 5 grand in an evening...but then again I could have lost a rather lot of money or a leg or something. Overall it's an experience I am happy to have lived through and come out unscathed.
I lied...I have re-read it and I still can't believe it happened. I was very careful about where I went and who I went with for the whole of my travels and I am still very dubious about any kind of gambling scenario.
My brain must have briefly short-circuited and I went with the flow.
All that stuff that the mental cat Charlie taught me when I was a kid went straight out of the window.
( bacon and egg roll is going to be big downunder, Mon 11 May 2009, 7:22, 4 replies)
I went into the butchers today. as it was not busy I said to him "I bet you a fiver you cant reach the meat on the top shelf without your footstool?"
He said "no way the steaks are to high"
Sorry its late
(BobbyLove, Mon 11 May 2009, 2:02, 2 replies)
This guy down at the snooker hall looks like Gollum. All he does is talk shit thinks he is the best on the baize but I've never seen him win oh and if you had a black cat he would pipe up "mine is blacker than that"
Anyway because he dont work (bad back) he spends all his time down at the snooker hall cleaning a few tables for a few drinks. When dole day comes round he gets his money and any family tax and pumps it into the fruity. Its one of the big payout ones I think the jackpot is a grand.
One day after losing all the money into the fruit I said "so what you going to do now" his reply..... "dont matter the wife has 3 cleaning jobs so she can sort out me and the kids"
Fucking twat.
That was about two years ago and every week is the same he never wins.
That has always stayed with me.
But everytime I find myself at the devils end of roulette or poker with my last few quid I never find myself thinking of him I just play on sobbing at half four in the morning.
(BobbyLove, Mon 11 May 2009, 1:52, Reply)
I once lost £100 in one week.
When I was 8.
At butlins.
Stupid 2p machines.
( Rev. Cleo still alive, Mon 11 May 2009, 1:09, Reply)
My mate Martin came up with a fantastic gambling-related chat-up line:
"I bet you a fiver you can't fit my cock in your mouth."
Win-win, methinks.
(MJPerry was crude but clickable at, Mon 11 May 2009, 1:07, 2 replies)
napoleons casino in hull / winning the sandwitch lottery.
I had a housemate in my second year of uni, who loved a bit of a flutter.
a good night for him was to stay till dawn on the card tables on free buffet night with our mutual Geordie friend.
One morning I was mulling how best to spend the day while sipping at my breakfast Heineken when the back door burst open. "howay! Its fookin Christmas the dee, pet!" Housemate and Geordie had returned each holding two bulging bin bags.
Free bread! After stopping off for a breakfast subway, had talked the guy behind the counter into giving them four sacks full of subways finest baguettes.
stuffing ourselves with free food, a thought occurred to me. "why did you shell out for a subway when they have free food at the casino?"
-"I was feeling flushed, I won sixty quid tonight"
I offered my heartfelt congratulations at my friend coming into a weeks worth of drinking coupons. Knowing that he often came home empty handed I asked how much he had gone out with.
One hundred and fifty quid, he beamed. "so.. you lost ninety pounds last night?" I questioned. Nah mate I put my last five on the roulette and won sixty notes. Foolishly I tried to reason with him. "but surely if you came out with 150 and came back with sixty then overall your 90 down". I was shot with a look that seemed to imply that I was crazy, "but I won sixty quid on the table". "after spending over twice that amount?"
This went on for a bit, before my housemate snapped "for gods sake willenium, I won sixty quid on the roulette, now shut up and eat your free Italian herb and cheese bread".
I gave up trying to explain after that, but six weeks later when he dropped out of his economics course i felt that I had won the argument ina roundabout sort of way.
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Sun 10 May 2009, 23:47, 1 reply)
A true story....
On a warm summers evenin on a train bound for nowhere,
I met up with the gambler; we were both too tired to sleep.
So we took turns a starin out the window at the darkness
til boredom overtook us, and he began to speak.
He said, son, Ive made a life out of readin peoples faces,
And knowin what their cards were by the way they held their eyes.
So if you dont mind my sayin, I can see youre out of aces.
For a taste of your whiskey Ill give you some advice.
So I handed him my bottle and he drank down my last swallow.
Then he bummed a cigarette and asked me for a light.
And the night got deathly quiet, and his face lost all expression.
Said, if youre gonna play the game, boy, ya gotta learn to play it right.
You got to know when to hold em, know when to fold em,
Know when to walk away and know when to run.
You never count your money when youre sittin at the table.
There'll be time enough for countin when the dealins done.
Now evry gambler knows that the secret to survivin
Is knowin what to throw away and knowing what to keep.
cause evry hands a winner and evry hands a loser,
And the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep.
So when hed finished speakin, he turned back towards the window,
Crushed out his cigarette and faded off to sleep.
And somewhere in the darkness the gambler, he broke even.
But in his final words I found an ace that I could keep.
You never count your money when you're sittin at the table.
(Code of Post lives at the moment in time that is..., Sun 10 May 2009, 23:39, 1 reply)
I used to work the lottery machine when I worked in a supermarket.
It was kind of fun by supermarket standards, as it was attached to the little tobacconists kiosk where you could chat to people and move about. Not exactly a thrill ride but it beats sitting down for up to four hours on your own at a regular checkout.
One evening I was having a good time idly constructing a house out of packets of Marlborough lights for a proud race of tic tac people under the counter when I was rudely interrupted by someone wanting to buy something (the nerve!).
"thirty quids worth of scratchcards mate" said a bespectacled middle aged man.
I had never seen anyone buy this many in one go before and I assumed I had misheard until he slapped some notes on the counter. Wordlessly he scratched them off in front of me with a key.
"here this ones won a fiver"
I went to the till thinking what a waste of 25 pounds.
"never mind the cash, just give me another scratch card, one of the big ones*"
he scratched that one off, and lost. He shrugged and simply said "well that's this weeks dole gone then" and walked out like it was the most normal thing in the world.
I quit my job soon after but I still remember this night very clearly. I never gamble for money, each time my mates ask me if I want in on a hand of poker I cant help think of this guy.
I'm not some puritan who thinks that gambling is a sin, Its your money and I'm not here to judge. But that incident gave me a clear picture of those who are terminally bad at maths.
*this was when you could get those five pound scratch cards that were twice the size of regular ones.
My mate once ate pigeon shit for a bet.
Probably not for the advenure he was really skint and needed the cash for his round, we just exploited his weakness.
Although he did go to GA shortly after, he said it was due to fruit machines taking over his life, I cant really imagine him saying in the group he ate bird shit for £30 to buy a round.
(wobbler, Sun 10 May 2009, 21:15, 1 reply)
Suicide Lottery
Best game ever, and it's free.
Wait for the national lottery program to come on, and then you and each of your compatriots get a piece of paper each, and write down 6 numbers.
Here's the important bit - at no point must you have bought a ticket.
So to put it simply: you've got your lottery numbers, but no ticket.
Then watch the results. Hoping and praying your numbers don't come up.
It's brilliant. Got the first three numbers once, and I thought my heart was going to explode.
(inflateable, Sun 10 May 2009, 21:07, 7 replies)
A sure thing
My mate and the landlord of the local decided to club together to buy a share in a race horse. I think they spent about £5k between them in a syndicate. There reasoning was that they really would love to be in the owner's enclosure and have a good day out every few months. Well a few years passed and their lame mare hadn't been out of the livery. The syndicate term was up and they decided just for a crack and to say they had with conviction entered her into a race, just for the day out.
Turns out this deceptively slow horse hated training but loved a race, competitive spirit or a need to get back to the stable quicker who knows but it won by a few lengths. Anyway he won a hat full, so on return to the pub he let slip that this horse was a rocket on four legs and as the 1st outing was a great success they had all renewed their stake in the horse and it will be running in a race in two weeks.
Rumour mill circulated my small town, the "its got a good chance have an e/w bet" (33/1 by the way it was a 16 horse charge) turned into a "it can't lose, steak as much money as you can on it". Well the bookies cut the odds to 16-1 by the off, with over 100 people lumping on the nose for this horse to win. Bets of over £1000 were being placed and my mate was not looking forward to that night back at the pub as the odds of 33-1 were probably right and it didn't really stand a chance.
The race was at 3.30pm and the two Pub football teams in the town were playing next to each other on opposite pitches. With some guy on the radio listening to the race between the two pitches.
Ever seen a goal celebration with out a goal being scored, on two pitches, at the same time. Well it won, as did the entire town. The local Ladbrokes wouldn't pay up on the day as they couldn't cover the payout.
Furnished my flat 
Length about 16 hands
(wobbler, Sun 10 May 2009, 21:00, Reply)
Things go a little differently in the countryside.
A friend of mine is involved in a charitable organization that contributes health care to adopted kids from other countries, and they had their fund raiser last night at a cattle ranch in northern Virginia. Loads of barbecue, kegs of beer, cases of wine, live music and a silent auction- all the things you'd expect, really. As I had contributed a piece of stained glass for the auction I was brought along and partook.
Since this was a family friendly event they also had activities for the small kids, but as it was a fund raiser they had various opportunities for bets, such as a 50/50 raffle. (Meaning that if you won, you got half the pot and the organization got the other half.) One of the events was a sheep race- they herded a bunch of sheep into a pasture, color coded each one, herded them to the far end of the field, and on the signal were sent scampering for the barn as fast as possible through a gate open only wide enough for one sheep. You can imagine the scene as these city folk all watched the border collie running at warp speed, snapping at heels as the panicked little buggers ran for their woolly little lives.
Then came the piece de resistance: cow bingo.
You set up a grid in a pasture, one axis letters and the other numbered, then put bets on various squares. A cow is then led into the grid, and whatever square she poos in wins. If it lands on a line, it's scraped off and another cow is brought in.
I will forever treasure the memory of a load of rich city folk standing around a pasture, tickets in hand, anxiously waiting for a cow to shit.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Sun 10 May 2009, 20:41, 1 reply)