Monte Carlo Millions

Midnight strikes and i'm back in the game. No Betfair poker for nearly two weeks and as the clock hits 00:00 I load £10 into my Betfair account. Just a quick £1 tourney tonight to get back into the swing of things. First hand I get a pair of Threes in late position. Blinds are 7/15 and I get a bit over excited with the occasion and raise to 100 to go. Two callers and the flop hits 7 K 3. Nice. Second to act but just a sly 50 bet not to scare anyone off. Turn comes..... 3. Steady now, check. Someone bets 150 and I call. River is a J. 1st player goes all in with 700. I call - and he turns over KJ. He didn't see me coming. I love this game.

Twenty mins later and I have all my money in with KJ on a KJ flop. Two pair. Some b*stard hits a flush on the river. Out in sixth - gutted. The Betfair curse continues.....

One for Barry here - he says he never sees Phil Ivey win a hand. This is pure guts.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LEfLXr3eSxs

I Only Watch It For The Music

2 days til payday, and with the Vegas trip paid for not much cash in the bank. If you find yourself in the same situation and cannot afford your regular trip to the lapdancing club, check this out:-

http://www.wet-tshirt-worldcup.com/

Better than Pacman, I think you will agree.

Viva Las Vegas!

This Sunday evening was spent booking this years holiday to Las Vegas. I shall be departing these shores on 1st November, and returning on the 7th. Last year was my first trip to Vegas, and Karl and myself stayed at the Golden Nugget. The Nugget is in downtown Vegas, about 2 miles from the strip. This meant a bus journey of one hour to get back from the strip in an evening.

This year, I want to be able to experience the nightclubs of Las Vegas and have therefore booked on the strip. Sam has advised me that when he went to Vegas, he attempted a 'pub crawl' down the Las Vegas strip, having one drink in every casino. Apart from the amount of alcohol consumed, this weighs in at a 3 mile walk in the sweltering Vegas heat. You only live once though, so it has got to be attempted.

For our stay, a room has been booked on the Northern most end of the strip at the Circus Circus casino. This will not only be an ideal location to begin the crawl, it will also give us access to the low-limit poker hotbed theat is downtown Vegas in the afternoons. The casino featured in the book/film 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas', and Johnny Depp's character quoted of the casino:-

"This is what the whole world would be doing on a Saturday night if Nazi Germany won the war"

I am looking forward to my stay immensely. Hopefully I will not attempt to purchase a primate in the same manner as Hunter S Thompson, but at the end of the casino crawl who knows what will happen.

When Irish Eyes are Smiling

A special 'Lovely Day For A Guinness' mention today goes to Darren Clarke. Not only did he compete in the Ryder Cup 6 weeks after the death of his wife, he won all 3 of his matches AND secured legendary status by downing a pint of Guinness live on air amid the celebrations. Darren is therefore the inaugural member of the LDFAG Hall of Fame for services to hedonism. Well done Dazzler.

Unfortunately, Sergio crumbled on the final day and I only got paid out half my winnings, as he tied with Lee Westwood for top points scorer. I currently have £110 spread across all online accounts and am considering withdrawing the majority of this to keep me in the manner I am accustomed until pay day on Friday. It is a sad day when you have to withdraw money put aside for hardcore gambling to buy bread, milk etc. but these sacrifices sometimes have to be made.

Betfair Account RIP

So that's it for the Betfair account. Totally wiped out. The title of the post last week was the amount of cash left in the Betfair account after Man U's failings on Sunday. In order to ressurect the account, I decided to put the lot on Casey and Karlsson to win their fourball on the first day of the Ryder Cup. This was mainly based on the strength of Casey's amazing performance at last weeks matchplay. The bet was going to plan as the pairing raced to a 3 hole lead by the turn, however the fates conspired against me and the game finished all square. I didn't see any of the action, although after Casey's showing today, I blame that Swedish b*stard Karlsson.
Those that haven't seen me for the last two weeks will be oblivious to the fact I have been attempting to cultivate a goatee. Aiming for a Rino Gattusso-esqe beard, I have failed miserably and have ended up with a Gary Neville. Although not overly superstitious, the arrival of the beard has heralded a losing streak comparable only to Nick Leeson's. For this reason, I decided last night that the razor had to come out before the poker home game and Saturday's football punting.

Amazingly, the shave seems to have invigorated my punting, and I walked off with the £15 No Limit tourney at the home game before rattling in a couple of successful 1-0, 2-0, 3-0 bets on Liverpool and Arsenal. A nice profit was nearly turned into a big winning day as I had 3 or more goals in the Reading game, but for the second time in 7 days Man U lost me money. Oh well, the corner has been turned and as well as being £30 up for the weekend, I have no reason to believe Garcia will not finish top European scorer and net me another £25. And, unlike Gary, I don't have to sport that ridiculous growth any longer.

No night out planned for tonight, and the only booze left in the house is a bottle of £5 Tesco's Cava and the 11% Trappist dirt. Heads or tails....

I Think We're Alone Now (and other 80's gems)

Now for Monday. When you wake up bollock naked, 25 miles from home, covered only by a towel to the strains of the Guns and Roses hit 'Sweet Child of Mine' you know you must have had an eventful night. This was up there in the top 10 classic nights out, but it nearly never happened. Here is the story.

I was meeting an old uni mate named Sam (who had recently moved to Leeds) with the intention of having a swift couple before getting the next train home and catching up on some much needed sleep. When I turned up to meet him, he explaned that he had been let down by other mates and it was only me and him on a night round Leeds. Great. Just what I need. I have had about 10 hours of sleep in the last 48 hours and now I am obliged to stay out as the guy has no mates in Leeds. After a couple of pints in the Hogshead however, we are back into the old routine, and I remember how much of a laugh this guy is.

The plan is to pop into Headingley for a couple of hours, grab some food and then make our way back into Leeds to a club. On the way back to Headingley, I am amazed at the amount of young, attractive women walking round in short skirts. I then notice an advert outside a bar:-

'LEEDS UNIVERSITY - FRESHERS WEEK OFFERS'

What a stroke of luck! All the university students are heading into Leeds today with two intentions - get blind drunk and socialise.

By 9.30PM I am sat in a church converted into a bar on the outskirts of Headingley in a near catatonic state of excitement. Stunning women are sipping drinks to the sound of 50 Cent's 'Outta Control'. A hottie an a white crop top and denim skirt is definitely giving me the eye, but Sam is not impressed. 'I hate this Rap stuff. I heard there is a great 80's night in town. 80p in.' Ignoring my protests to stay here all night, Sam drags me out of the bar insisting there will be better women in the centre of Leeds. Yeah right, Sam.

11.05PM and we arrive at 'Rehab', a club in the trendy Corn Exchange area of Leeds. But tonight is a no-frills 80's night. 80's music, 80p to get in and..... 80p a drink. 80 f*cking pence a drink. 80p. As we arrive after the 11PM cut off, we have to pay £1.20 extra to get in, but there is no anger in me today. We walk down a narrow corridor and then the expanse of the club hits us. A bar to the right, smoke machines, lights and an enormous disco ball revolving on the ceiling. No tension whatsoever in the air despite the four deep queue at the bar. And an unprecidented amount of sub-21 year old females in short skirts, low cut tops and boots.

Sam goes to the bar while I visit the kitch unisex toilets. By the time I get back, I can hear him asking the barman:-

'What is the limit on the amount of drinks you can buy at once?'

'There is no limit, sir'

'Gimmie ten bottles of Fosters then'

I turn to ask Sam:- 'Why Ten?!'

He responds 'Well, can you carry any f*ckin' more?!'

The time is now 1.30 AM. I have officially missed the last train back to York and I am due in work in 7 hours time. However, the only thing I can think of at the moment is the bizarreness of the current situation. Girls are gyrating round us to the sound of The Cure's 'The Lovecats', and every girl you speak to seems to be at pains to get to know you better. If you could choose this type of company everynight you would - maybe not to the same playlist and without the kitch unisex toilets with their ever extending queue, but the rest of the venue has an excellent vibe. And those drinks prices. 80 f*cking pence.

I woke up after 3 hours sleep at the residence of one of my 'friends' from the club, and after a quick soapless shower in a shower cubicle resembling the bathing facilities at Guantanamo Bay, left for work. Who knows if the atmosphere will be like that every week? Who knows if the staff at work clocked that I stank of smoke machine smoke? Who knows if my body would take another fatigue inducing weekend like that? But I intend to find out.

£7.02

Regular readers may have believed that my failure to post on Sunday was due to the fact that I had lost all my Saturday picks and chosen to throw myself under a double decker bus. This is not the case, although ironically I was nearly run over by a bus outside Ladbrokes in Leeds yesterday. It would have saved me a few quid in bets had the bus made contact.

The actual reason for my non-appearance is that Saturday, Sunday and Monday turned into heavy drinking nights, and I write this column after a heavy 4 hour sleep, which is one hour more than the amount of sleep I got last night. But turn the clock back to Saturday, and a big session. It started by meeting Karl at the Bootham Tavern for the Watford game. As a closet Hornet, I enjoyed the match, but was disappointed that Marlon didn't score as he had some cracking chances. Most of the first half was missed due to the fact that the working class granny who runs the pub switched channels after 30 mins, opting to show the Super League game to the general pleasure of the patrons. I enjoy the blockbuster games, but Wakefield V Castleford did not get my juices flowing and a hasty retreat was made.

After watching the second half at the White Swan, where Karl managed to annoy the barstaff by dropping his vodka and coke all over the floor, we went to Old Orleans for cocktails. In order to cheer me up after a losing week, Karl puchased shots of Oreo Cookie shooters, a combination of 5 spirits that genuinely tastes like the famous biscuit. These slpped down a treat, and at this point Karl announced that we should dismiss our idea to go to the upper class bars. Instead, we should just head to BPM (formally McMillans, York fans) for all drinks £1.50 before 10PM, get twatted and pull some slappers. Not wanting to argue with a crazy alcohol fueled maniac I agreed.

The night gets hazy from here on in. We met Baz (my housemate) and Craig at BPM, and I did indeed pull. There was dispute as to the attractiveness of the girl in question, with Barry telling me the next morning that 'You would be crying if you just woke up next to her', wheras Craig described her as 'An absolute stunner'. A footnote here being that Barry was driving and consumed no units, while Craig is not famed for his eyesight. At the home game a month ago he threw away a winning flush as he was chasing a straight with the same hand, losing a £15 pot in the process.

On to Gallery, Yorks self acclaimed 'Premier' nightspot, in the same way that MS Windows could be described as the 'premier' operating system. (i.e. The competition is slim to none.) After nearly throwing Karl off the balcony for getting in for £2 with a membership card while I dropped £7, I saw the girl I had met in BPM. Unfortunately she turned out to be a completely different bird in the same colour dress, and her 6ft black boyfriend was less than impressed. My second hasty retreat of the evening was then made.

Sunday saw me lose a £25 double on Chelsea and Man United, but break even thanks to Double D's wonder strike in the first game. I had him first scorer at 11/2. My 33/1 Golden Boot bet on the Ivorian may still pay off, although I have a sneaking suspicion this will be AJ's year.

Trappist Troubles

This morning saw me wake up to an absoute belter of a hangover after relaxing after work last night with some 9.5% beer brewed by Trappist monks. I still have a bottle of 11.5% 'Trappist Roachfort' in the fridge, but I will be giving it a wide berth for some time to come.

The hangover has prevented me from attending the YCFC game today, but hopefully I should be fully functioning for a night on the town tonight. Plans are to hit the bars hard and enjoy a few beers in the 'sophisticated' area of town near the river. Out with the Aftershock and 18 year olds in short skirts, and in with the G & T's and erm.......gold diggers and girls heavily in debt on their credit cards.

To get back on track on the gambling side of things, i've gone for £25 on the Sheff Utd game to be a draw and 3 £5 bets on Everton to win 1-0, 2-0 or 3-0. And a first goalscorer bet on Marlon King in the evening game. Fingers crossed, report to follow tomorrow...

Poker Brat

This has been a pretty poor week all in all. Work is truly getting on top of me, and at times like this you have to indulge in your interests away from work to keep you sane.

Unfortunately, as my interests away from work are gambling, womanising and drinking, this can leave a big cause for concern. Since Sunday I have blown £100+ in sports betting, mostly backing football games to have 3 or more goals and have some overpaid playboy striker miss a sitter. Then I go out on the town last night to try and pull, only to have some idiot buy me shots of Aftershock and make me seriously ill, arriving back home before midnight. (This also meant I could not get any sick stories about Karl to publish on the website. This is only a reprieve Karlos. These will follow after Saturday.) The drinking has been going well apart from the Aftershock incident, but when your only solace is drinking you know you have a problem!

http://www.dooyoo.co.uk/drinks/aftershock-liqueur/297799/

Watching that Negreanu clip from a couple of days ago back over again makes you realise that even the best of us can take a beating sometime, but it is how you conduct yourself in the face of defeat that determines what type of man you are. And the following clip gives me hope for a weekend of improved fortunes. Whatever has happened this week, I have surely faced it all with better grace than this. (An added lesson for all poker fans - this is what happens when you play Ace - Junk!)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E8O8a_un_r8&mode=related&search=

Anyway, one day to go, an important project to complete at the office and then i'm free for two days. I can see a turnaround in fortunes already..... or is that just the drink speaking?

'That Was Pretty Sick'

I love Poker. Poker is a microcosm of life itself. As Anthony Holden wrote in his book 'Big Deal';

'Whether he likes it or not, a man's character is stripped bare at the poker table; if the other players read him better than he does, he has only himself to blame. Unless he is both able and prepared to see himself as others do, flaws and all, he will be a loser in cards, as well as life.'

If you have had a bad losing streak on the internet, if you have lost a couple of weeks running at your home game, hell - if you have had a bad day at the office - you need to watch this. I won't ruin the clip by telling you who wins the hand, but for the loser - one of the most experienced poker players of our generation - this is a BAD day at the office. This is the biggest ever televised cash pot. This is a secretary blows you out when you try and chat her up, manager calls you into his room, you get charged for sexual harassment day at the office:-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ojeRwWIdQBM

You get the picture. You're feeling better already, right? And no, I have never been charged for sexual harassment....

De Niro Walks

In my opinion, Blogs are the scourge of the internet and are maintained by saddos who don't have anything better to do than boast to the world about their mundane existence. However, you can't knock anything until you give it a go, so let's kick things off with a photo of my good self (above).

This photo was snapped whilst I was in a Scottish hotel room a couple of months ago. Although the expression on my face may lead you to believe I am jacking off to internet porn, this is not the case. I am in fact listening to The Infidels at 4AM in a state of terminal inebriation whilst taking pictures of myself in the mirror, which initially caused the same level of amazement as when man first discovered fire (below right).

In the next couple of days, I will hopefully lay the foundations of what will become a blog of critical acclaim for years to come. If not that, then hopefully I will be able to deliver a few laughs along the way.

Ciao,

James