£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.
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.
posted by JamesC at 11:27 pm
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