Feeling urgh

Struggling at the moment with Man flu. Was supposed to go up my Mums who has been snowed in since the 17th but both me and the Daughter have been knocked for six. Obviously had to put in a Cricket metaphor with England retaining the Ashes down under.
Haven't done much this Xmas. Just the three of us on Xmas day although my Daughter does eat for Wales. Had a couple of mates over in the evening where we had a few beers and watched the Royle family. For those who haven't seen it then click the link below pronto. Best TV over Xmas by a mile. Without spoiling it I'll just give you one sample gag. Joe's wife Mary has died so he brings her urn over for Christmas dinner. Whilst they all reminisce about Mary someone brings up the time she won the fancy dress down the Feathers.

Jim: Yeah she made a great Arch Bishop Desmond Tutu.
Joe: Actually she went as Shaun Wright Phillips.


















You can watch the whole episode here
Enjoy.

Right, off to give my Daughter a kicking on Mario Kart. Later.

Merry Xmas

Hope you and yours have a great Christmas and a superb 2011. All the best and catch you all soon.
By the way, I'm on twitter now, rubbish2407, if you fancy an endless stream of crap.
Laters.

Bored

Dave's Missus is ill so I'm stuck in the house with not alot to do.
Done most of my Xmas shopping on Amazon but still need to sort out a few things. Trying to get myself a new mobile but no one can tell me when my contract runs out? O2 and Carphone Warehouse are real twats of the highest order.
I have been watching this today though and it really is worth watching episodes 61-65 if you like rooting for the underdog. It is a poker programme by the way so don't waste 200 minutes of your life if you can't stand poker.
Talking of poker I'm currently doing okay on the $6 SNG's on Full Tilt and made a few quid this last week or so. Not having to get up at 4.30am is helping. I'm pretty sure I was sub-consciously getting it in bad when playing late at night because I knew I had to get up early and therefore needed to get to bed. Not anymore though.
I'm also doing the last man standing challenge on Boylepoker where the winner gets a buy in to the Western Open in February. Not sure how I'm doing but I'm still in.
Also off to Bolton in Feb for the APAT team comp. Not going to play but will be railing the RTR fish.
Another trip next Year is to Blackpool for one of the monthly comps the Blackpool Circus Casino is running. I love Blackpool. I'm not sure if any of my American readers or worldwide readers for that matter are aware but Blackpool is an unique place. Blackpool on a Sunday morning is the only place on the planet where the Women have a higher sperm count than the Men. That's a fact that my Blackpool partner in crime, No Cash, will no doubt atest to.
My main trips next year though will be Rugby orientated. Off to Edinburgh, Rome and somewhere in France other than that shithole that is Paris for the Welsh games. Also off to Leuven for their Seven's tourney in May. Got the biggest fish in the pond coming down to Cardiff for the England match. I shouldn't really say that about him as he beat me 2-0 heads up the other night. Fucker. Unfortunately my trips fade into comparison when you look what this dirty fish is up to next year. Some people have all the luck but in his case it's all the skill to have made a living out of Poker.
Right, off to Carphone Warehouse to whinge like a good one until someone sorts me out a new phone.
Laters.

New favourite team

I've found a new footie team to support. Check out this blog. Awesome.
Off out to watch Wales get handed their arses by New Zealand. Could be the most embarrassing 80 minutes of Rugby ever. Luckily, I'll be so drunk by kick off I'll probably have no recollection of the game.
Later.

Just fan bloody tastic

Supposed to be going to Leurven in Belgium tonight/early hours of Saturday with a posse of Rugby mates for a 50th Birthday bash. All day Rugby tournament at Leurven Rugby Club and a free bar in the night. We're even sleeping in the Club so it's drink as much Stella as you can and then pass out. One snag. Guess where we're flying from? Fucking Birmingham airport where all flights have just been cancelled.
I hope the guys who crashed are okay but why today you fucking twats?

Bidibot

I had this comment from JT regarding my previous post plus one.

Hi there!

I'm honoured that you consider me the 2nd greatest poker player from Wales, I guess that means you didn't see me play the world open last night on channel 5!

Regarding my latest business, bidibot.com, I feel there are a few issues I ought to clear up. Firstly, users are able to place bidbots which places their bids for them whilst they are playing online, sleeping or just don't want to manually place the bids. They are able to select how many bids to use and at what price for it to be triggered.

The users involved in last nights crazy battle spend a lot on image building so they do not face much resistance in future auctions. The winner in the auction you talked about was user rje8686 and although he paid over the rrp for this prize his reputation as a fearless bidder has made him thousands of dollars of profit which he himself has posted his results on the twoplustwo forums.

We are currently awarding all new signups with 10 dollars worth of free bids to try the site. Give it a go ;)

Best of luck,

John Tabatabai

I know a lot of people have put links up for this site, I have gone one step further and registered. I can also confirm that I have succesfully bid for 3 x Tournament tickets for Poker Stars (1 x $22 and 2 x $11) and paid the princely sum of $1.01 for the three of them. Two have been transferred into my Stars account allready and the third should be there today. $1.01 is the least you can bid for any item.
Normally if something looks to good to be true there's a catch. This time there isn't. Click this link
and look who won the $11 Stars ticket at the bottom of the page and for how much.
Played at the local casino last night in a £15 freezeout (misheard my mate, thought he said £50) and came 7/103 for £70. It's play like that which will always leave JT trailing in my wake as Wales' No. 1 :)
Hope this clears everything up John and I await that $1k you and Pud promised me.
Laters.

Work life balance

I'm just about to finish two weeks of the most mind numbingly, repetitive, boring work I've ever done in my life and I've absolutely loved it. No deadlines. No people to manage. No bosses looking over your shoulder. No meetings to chair or attend. No customers to appease. It's been fucking great. If only the pay didn't reflect how shitty the job was I'd ask if I could do it full time.
Next week I'm working for Dave which should be a laugh. He's got about five properties on the go and they are all in various stages of not being anywhere near finished so that he can rent them out. I'm not sure what he thinks I'm going to be doing but I plan on doing a bit of painting and reading the papers all day. The best thing about working with Dave though is no Monday mornings or Friday afternoons. I sometimes wonder how the fucker makes any money at all.
My Sister in laws Fiftieth tomorrow which means I'm going to miss Wales v South Africa as we are going to some Rick Stein Restaurant for food. I will, of course, sit there scowling all day wishing I was sitting in the Millennium Stadium but the one good thing is her Son, my Nephew, has started playing Rugby so I'll probably sneak him into some bar to watch the game.
Going to the casino after work tonight for a £50 freezeout. Poker has been a bit up and down the last few weeks so I'm hoping for a decent placing.
Next week, my Missus and I have to take my Daughter and eight of her mates to see the Harry Potter film. I'm absolutely fucking estactic about it. Next Saturday though I'm off to Leurven in Belgium for a fiftieth birthday bash. Now why couldn't my Sister in law have her bash at the home of Stella?
Later.

Bots - who would have them and other shameless plugs.

I've just been on the Bidibot site which is something to do with John Tabatabai, the second greatest poker player from Wales after yours truly and it's all going horribly wrong for two guys. There's an $150 Betfair credit and two people, or more to the point, two bots have now bid over $500 on it. Yep, that's right, two bots have made bids of $250 each on an $150 credit. Bots, who would have them? I've had one winning bid and I'll let you know if I have any problems.
My Daughter was 12 today which means twelve years ago I was the drunkest man in Cardiff. Somethings never change. Seeing as I'm plugging Bidibot I might as well plug the best restaurant in Cardiff . There's actually a chain of them so there might be one near you. Pay them a visit, the food is superb.
Here's my favourite gamblers site . His footie tips are great and his basketball ones are better.
All the best folks and thanks for dropping by.

Sigh

Running bad
Fast forward to 19.30 and you'll see how good I'm running at the moment. The guy who goes all in has a $50 bounty on his head and for some reason my Avatar keeps on defaulting to a fucking chicken.
Started looking for a new job on Tuesday and got offered two on Friday. Took one which is a four week contract but as my old company are still paying me I'm on double money for a month.
Later.

Just fooking typical

Now I've got loads of free time I've decided to play loads of Poker and guess what, worst fooking run of my life. I must have had a 100 pocket pairs which haven't hit a set but all my opponents are hitting sets with alarming regularity. I've also bust out of more tourneys in the last two days with the best hand at the time of getting it all in, than I have over the course of the last year. Just fooking typical.
Spun £40 up to £720 over the weekend on a series of bets and put it all on Inter Milan on Sunday night. Rafa Benitez must be the worst manager in the history of the game. Just fooking typical.
Both my neighbours are relatively new and guess what, they've both got builders working on their houses whilst I'm at home all day trying to watch TV and play poker. Just fooking typical.
I've had to go into the City Centre a few times so I've been going on the bus. I fooking hate all this terrorist business. Years ago you could look at an unattended bag and think, I'm having that. Not now. Just fooking typical.
Anyway, I'm a bit worried about my Daughter. My Missus and I think she might be dyslexic. She asked if I could take her for a McDonalds today so I said I would if she could spell it. She said "fuck it I'll have a CKF instead".
Later.

Dublin

Just come back from a mad weekend in Dublin with a few RTR fishes where we drank copious amounts of Guinness and played a bit of poker.
The main reason for going was the Boyles sports IPO which is Europes largest poker event. 1200 plus people turned up to play over the Friday and Saturday with the final running on Sunday along with the Irish Poker awards.
I turned up on the Friday and after a few pints in the pub across the road from my hotel, wandered up to the Regency for the two O'clock start. Unfortunately, it started at twelve and I was being blinded away. When I took my seat I looked at my first hand which was KK. It gets folded arounded to me and before I can say anything the Italian guy to my left says raise. The dealer informs him I'm to play so I raise which means he now has to. The guy two seats further around goes all in and I call. The Italians mucks his cards and I turn over my KK to his AA. A King on the turn and I fluke a double up and some. I then played through until ten or eleven in the evening when the blinds finally caught up with me. I ended up with 16k with the blinds 800/1600 and look down at pocket snowmen. A guy goes all in who I have covered so I snap call. He flips AK and the flop comes QQ2, J, J. Counterfeited by the fooking Ace. I bomb out next hand.
Amatay, Jak and Greekstein had all pitched up so we had a few beers, although Greeky who doesn't drink, played cards like the degen he is til redic o'clock.
On Saturday all the rest of the RTR fish were playing. Snake who I was bunking with pitched up early doors and we made our way up to the Regency around midday with Jak. No cash and his babysitter, a lovely degenerate called Paul, were already in the bar. Cogs, who wasn't registered to play, turned up next. Greeky ambled along with his man bag draped over his shoulder and casually mentioned how he had spunked £2k away the previous evening. Amatay dragged himself out of his wanking chariot about Six in the evening.
After all the guys had found their tables Cogs and I settled down at the bar for the duration. 52 minutes later we were joined by Snakey. And so it carried on until we were all sat around a table having more Guinness.
Several side events were taking place alongside loads of cash tables and slowly but surely all the degenerates soon whittled away. I stuck to my guns and continued trying to drink my own body weight. At some point we headed into Dublin City centre allthough I was totally gone at that point. I didn't last too long and was soon on my way home. No cash managed to convince a couple of girls that he and Snake were millionaire poker players. I think No cash was passing himself off as Tom Dwan and Snakey was Doyle Brunson. This may be a photo of No cash hooking the bird that Snakey eventually got to grips with later on, alledgedly.

Anyhow, after telling all and sundry that I wasn't drinking on the Sunday, I found myself at the bar about middayish and the fun and games continued. The boys played in a few other side events and Cogs, Paul and Jak all cashed in a 100 Euro head hunter. I found myself sat at the bar with Padraig Parkinson who is an absolute legend in Irish Poker circles. A few other guys pitched up including Neil Channing who was a top guy. He hosted the Irish Poker awards which Padraig won best blog for. He walked up to the stage and calmly told everyone that "I feel such a fraud as Jesse May writes my blog".
On winning Irish Poker personality of the year award Padraig then got up on stage and asked, "who the fuck votes for these things? I'd like to thank Jesse for creating me such a great personality".
What a top bloke.
We ended up drinking until the early hours with Amatay and Paul giving me a Poker lesson.
All in all it was a fantastic weekend with loads of Guinness and great company. Can't wait for next year.
Unfortunately I went to work on Tuesday and found out I had been made redundant. Fuck my luck.

Lost my blogging mojo

Haven't really felt like blogging much this last month, not sure why. Wouldn't have today if it wasn't for the fact BBC2 are showing the most pointless programme in the history of mankind tonight. Here's a link in case you're not sure which programme it is but I can definately tell you the answer is, fuck no.
Later.

Been a while

Been back from holidays for what seems a lietime now and still haven't written about it. A few other things have happened since and I should write a post about those as well. Maybe next time.
I'm nice and tanned after my Hols so I decided to go to the local pool to show off the tan. I was asked to leave by this lifeguard due to the large bulge in my Speedos upsetting some of the other swimmers. I pointed out another guy in similar trunks and asked why he wasn't being asked to leave. "Because he hasn't shit himself" he replied.
On to other business.
Cardiff City are on a roll. They beat a Portsmouth team which, whilst struggling this season, was still full of Premiership players. They've made the biggest signing of the season by bagging Craig Bellamy and are now the team to beat. They've also signed two players in the close season equally as important as Bellers. Olinfanjana on loan from Hull and Drinkwater loaned from Man Utd have been bossing the midfield. People I know have said that Drinwater could eventually take over from Scholes at Man Utd. Oli wasn't due to play today but after loaning Gerrard to Hull both teams have agreed that both players can play. Better news for Cardiff than Hull. You can back Cardiff at 1.64 which I have for £100. Nothings guaranteed but I like this bet. I've also had a little dabble on Cardiff, QPR, Scunthorpe, Peterborough, Sheffield Wed, Torquay and Rotherham, £7 to win £580 and a lay accumulator on Colchester, Hartlepool, Rochdale, Gillingham, Hereford, Lincoln, Morecambe and Northampton.
May have another bet later and if I do I'll post on here. Good luck if you bet on anything today.
Later.
Cardiff didn't start with Bellamy, Chopra, Boothroyd and Drinkwater but Oli netted the first and then his replacement, Rae, scored the winner. Great result with those big guns mssing. Tonight I've had a treble on Barca, Arsenal and Man Utd, short odds but returns 1.71.

Footie

First bet of the year tonight, £50 on Atletico Madrid at 1.52. Posting a bit late as they are now 2-0 up. Sorry.
Will write a post up about the Hols soon. Had a cracking time, chilled out and ate and drank far too much. Lovely place and well worth a visit.
Laters.

Woohoo

I'm away on Hols so have a good one folks and see you soon.

Mo the farmer

Some of you may have noticed that the legend that is "Mo Mad dog Stoneskin" left a comment on my last post. Mo has been missing in action for the last couple of months because of his new job. I must admit I applaud him and his Wife for leaving the rat race along with a six figure salary behind and moving "Oop North" to become a farmer. I do however fear for their well being after every conversation I have with him. Take this one:
I get an e-mail from Mo the gist of which is;
Hi Rubbish, I've got two horses and I can never remember which one is which. Any ideas how I can tell them apart?
I suggest he cuts the tail off one and this works great until the other one got his tail caught in a bush. I then suggest he notches the ear of one of the horses and this works until the other horse caught his ear on some barbed wire. Finally I tell him to measure them and he rings me back all excited to let me know that the black horse is two inches bigger than the white one.
I popped up to see him the other day and his Wife told me he was in the barn. I walk in and there he is doing a sexy striptease in front of this big red piece of machinery.
"Fucking hell Mo, what are you doing"? I enquired.
"Oh hi Rubbish. Me and the Missus haven't been getting on too well so I went to see one of those therapists that told me to do something sexy to a tractor"!
I could go on but I wont.
Good to see you back Mo, hopefully there'll be a post or two from you soon.

Same old same old

I've written a few posts but haven't published them because I couldn't get my sample spreadsheets to line up properly. Basically, I'm starting a gambling campaign this season with a £1k starting bank which I'm hoping to turn into a sizeable amount by this time next year. If anyone can tell me how to post spreadsheets then leave a comment.
In other news I've been off work for a few days with my Daughter. We've spent two of them on Mario Kart where I absolutely stuffed her. I've taken all her pocket money teaching her PLO and now she's sulking and playing Super Mario on her own. Loser.
I've just joined Boyles Poker mainly because there's a few RTR guys going to the Dublin Poker Open in October. Played 2 MTT's coming 13th in one for peanuts. Was a bit gutting because I was chip leader and hadn't had one decent hand all the way through. Lost one big pot when my AJ spades on a A 10S 2S couldn't get home against A2. A King on the turn gave me outs with any K,Q,J,10 and a spade. FML.
I hope Aaron Ramsay makes a full recovery from his broken leg so that Cesc Fabregas can fuck off back to Spain. Rambo, even at 17, is better than Fabregas now and will be the best midfielder Arsenal have had since Liam Brady. You heard it here first.
We're off to Madeira in a couple of weeks. Don't know much about the place other than praying to God that your pilot has balls of steel.

Anyone been there? Does the landing look as bad as the photo? Is there anything to do there?
Got massive tooth ache at the moment and just realised that I haven't been to a dentist for 30 years!
On series 5 of the Sopranos which I kind of remember watching. Have series 6 to finish with which I definitely haven't watched. After that I'm all out of box sets to watch. Anyone got anything they can recommend?
Later.

The Big G

My mate Big G got married recently after going out with his Missus for sixteen years. Why? Fuck knows.
For his stag weekend we went here. Before you click on the link though carry on reading and see if you can guess what we did.
To be honest I didn’t want to do it. If I wanted to be scared shitless I would have looked at Mrs Rubbish naked. But it was G’s day so I went along like a brave little soldier. Twenty of us turned up with about eighteen of us wanting to go straight to a bar. G’s Brother didn’t help after telling everyone that the last time he had been here two people had been rushed to Hospital, one with a broken leg and the other with a fractured skull.
We split into four groups of five and our instructor made a great job of making matters worse. I was with G, Dave, G’s brother and his mate who was an enforcer for some drug baron in North Wales. The first thing our instructor says is “be prepared for all your worst fears to come true. I’m not going to lie to you, you’re all going in and it’s going to get messy. You need to listen to what I’m going to tell you because it may save you or your mate’s lives”.
He then gave us our instructions for the next two hours. When he barked them out we needed to follow them to the word or face the worst. To make matters worse we weren’t alone. The British Olympic hopefuls were there and everything was ramped up fully for their benefit.
The next two hours flew by. It was one of the best mornings I’ve ever had. We all went in several times but luckily no one got hurt. The Olympic crew were awesome to watch. At one point our instructor rammed one of them who was in severe difficulty to flip them over the right way. The course has jets which go from one to sixteen, we were on fourteen. It was frightening but exhilarating. If you ever get a chance then go, it’s a blast.
Did you guess where we went and what we did?
Yeah right.
White water rafting costs £40 for two hours and it’s the best £40 I’ve spent, except that one time in Prague but that’s another story. If you’re ever in Cardiff for a stag weekend or down for the Rugby and have a few hours to kill then I highly recommend giving this a whirl. The Olympians by the way were the canoeing hopefuls and the one that we flipped over by ramming him was under water for about thirty seconds. It’s that tough in places, even for guys who do this at Olympic standard.
The rest of a day was a real blast. A few guys who I haven’t seen for several years turned up and we did a bit of damage around Cardiff Bay. We finally ended up in our local where we drank until it was light and the Landlord cooked us breakfast. Happy days.
In the wedding G’s brother made a speech which was pretty cool and he told everyone about his Mums worst day with them all.
G has two elder brothers, both top blokes. The story revolved around G when he was still in school. He was sixteen at the time but was one of the best Rugby players around and there were maybe five or six boys of his age who all the top teams were looking at. Dave was actually one of the others. Anyway, G’s eldest brother who was a playing first class had just been layed up with a serious knee injury. There was talk that he might not play again and certainly no chance of playing first class or for Wales. Luckily this proved to be complete crap and he played thirty odd times for Wales but at the time it was really serious. G’s middle brother was playing the next tier down and due to a successful TV career, didn’t want to go any further.
The coach of the club he played for had watched G and wanted to get him before the big clubs landed him so he pitched up at G’s house and started sweet talking G’s Mum. She was dead against G playing at such a high standard at his age but his eldest Brother had played under this coach and put a word in. The fact that the middle Brother was also playing for the team swung it and G made his debut, much against his Mum’s better judgement, versus Bridgend.
Bridgend were rammed with International players and G’s opposite number was the open side flanker for Wales at that time. The game was quite nasty and mid way through the first half this guy took G out from behind, breaking his jaw in two places. G’s brother saw what happened and went for the guy. A huge fight broke out and G’s brother got knocked out in the melee.
G’s Mum was sat at home with the eldest Brother when the phone rang. A barely audible and murmuring G spoke first.
“Now don’t worry Mam but I’m at the hospital and my jaws broken”.
“I knew it; I knew I shouldn’t have let you play. You’re far too young to be playing at the level. Never again. I’m coming down there now”.
“No don’t come down Mam, I’m okay and Marks here”.
“Okay put Mark on the phone”.
“I can’t, he’s having a brain scan”.
“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat”.
Kids, who would have them?

Anyhow, Snake, DoV, No Cash, Mr O, any chance you lazy fuckers are going to update your blogs any time soon?
Later.

More World Cup

I had a close call on Wednesday when my Wife came home early from work and nearly caught me watching the English match. Luckily I managed to get some porn on and whip my cock out in time to save any embarassment.
Other news and the English squad went to an African orphanage this morning. "It's good to put a smile on the faces of those with no hope, constantly struggling and facing the impossible" said Solomon Umboto aged 6.
Not sure about the impossible as Germany haven't looked that great. Neither have England mind so every chance of penalties.
Have a great weekend.

R.I.P. Football and Cricket

When I first moved to Cardiff my boss at the time introduced me to his best mate from University. After a quick chat it turned out that his brother in law had managed a football team I had played for, he had lived in the next village across from mine and we had gone to the same Grammar School, albeit several years later in my case. We became firm friends.
One day we were having a few beers and this long haired idiot walks over and starts chatting to my mate. It turned out they were cousins and this kid tells him that he had just quit his job with the Council to spend some time touring with his band. My mate advised him against this and I’ll always remember him, bearing in mind he was probably in his early thirties at the time, imploring this kid to “think of your pension”.
I tell you all this now because that kid was Stuart Cable of the Stereophonics who was buried yesterday and remembering the conversation seems almost surreal.
When I was in my late teens there was a pub called the Globe which we used to frequent every bank holiday. The Stereophonics or, as they were called then, the Tragic Love Company, used to play there. Even though they were probably thirteen or fourteen at the time you could tell they had class and would go all the way.
I met Stuart a few times after that and he always used to take the piss out of my mate about the Council and pensions. He was a lovely guy and my condolences go to his family and friends. R.I.P. mate.
Onto other business. I’ve always hated the French and their attitude in the World Cup proves what I’ve always thought about them. Absolute wankers. I couldn’t believe it when they all walked behind the goals in the Mexico match. For some of them it’s their last shot at a World Cup and they behave like spoilt brats. If I’d been Thierry Henry I would have been begging Domenech to let me on the field and try to turn things around. Good riddance to the French wankers. England hasn’t been much better and Rooneys rant to the cameras just about sums up Professional Footballers. Fuck you all, I’m bigger and better than the lot of you and you shouldn’t ever forget it. Wanker should have been born across the channel.
My Daughter entered a sweepstake in School and picked out Chile which I’ve had a tenner on at 80/1. One time please.
Talking of the light of my life, she was picked to play in the School Cricket team in a competition at Sophia Gardens recently. I went down to watch and it was a great day out. She had managed to get into the first team even though she cannot catch a ball and bats as if she’s playing Baseball. They won their first two games quite convincingly and she even managed to take the most wickets in the second match when her underarm lobs enticed a series of batsmen to give her team catching practice. The third game was a disaster.
Under 11 Cricket is played by teams of Eight and each team starts with 200. For every wicket you lose five points comes off this score. Obviously, whatever you score is added on. Every person bowls one over and every person bats for at least one over no matter how many times they are out.
There were four groups of four and the last game was a winner takes all berth into the Semi Finals. These kids turned up, all in whites, and the first thing I noticed was seven of them had County badges on their Jerseys. Watching them bowl it was obvious that they had all been coached by their action and when it came for my Daughter to bat I feared the worst. This kid started launching balls down the wicket like Curtley Ambrose and it took all my will power to not walk on the pitch and give him a slap. In fairness to my Daughter she got her bat on the ball a few times and didn’t get bowled. I was well chuffed. The team scored 203 and the game was all over bar the shouting. The two kids who were batting when my Daughter bowled had a field day although, to be fair, all of them scored runs and they won by about fifty. Unsurprisingly they went on to win the whole Competition. My Daughter enjoyed it which is the main thing; if only she’d pick up the Golf Clubs I bought her, little witch.
Loads of other things I should really be blogging about but I’ll save them for another time.
One last thing, Jessica, should you read this I cannot post comments on your blog and can’t even read it half the time because of some “forbidden 503 error message”. Any ideas?
Later.

World Cup so far

So the greatest show is back and I'm not talking about Big Brother. Been watching the World Cup religiously and I have to say that the relentless droning on in the backround is really winding me up. Why dont Mark Lawrenson and Mick McCarthy just fuck off?
I was watching the Cameroon v Japan game this afternoon and Lawrenson said "This game is really dull". I was sat there thinking "the only thing dull about this game is you, you boring twat". He then starts ripping Japan to shreds about their negative tactics when Cameroon were playing Samuel Etoo on the right side of midfield. Hello, are you watching this you stupid fuckwit?
That said the BBC coverage is killing ITV at the moment. Quick question, can anyone understand a word Emanuel Adebayor says? Quite disappointed with his ring tone as well.
I guess my first memory of the World Cup is 1974 and Johann Cruyff. Holland were awesome but West Germany had Der Bomber and Der Kaiser in their ranks. Gerd Muller poached ten goals and Germany won on home soil. I think my favourite team of all was the Brazil team of 82 with Socrates, Falcao, Zico, Junior, Serginho and Eder. Eder scored a couple of incredible goals including an outrageous chip against Scotland I believe. My favourite though was a volley against Russia. You can see them on this link
Anyhow, poker going good, work going shite, betting going diabolical. Don't think I've had a winning bet yet. Could be worse though, my name could be Robert Green.

Day three - Sunday - Newastle - Players, pints, boxes and fuck knows what else

Sunday was supposed to be the big drinking day and midday saw us waiting patiently outside the pub for the doors to open. “Us” had shrunk from the Saturday with such lightweights (sic) as Mik and Pud disappearing along with Mair and Stan.
The first pint courtesy of Pud’s £360 chop went down like cold sick but things warmed up when the girls from the previous night turned up. No cash tried his hardest to blend into a potted plant as the girls he had endeared himself to the night before shot furious glances in his general direction. DoV was in full talk mode, questioning them all on their previous nights escapades like a demented Dad. Snake, Dd and Mr O chatted poker whilst I concentrated on not puking.
After a while we headed into the City centre for a few beers. On the way we nearly killed Keyser Soze when this gimp geezer limped directly behind our bus as the driver was reversing. We all screamed to stop and he missed this guy by inches who then broke into a sprint that Usain Bolt would have struggled to match. Weird.
We ended up in a bar called Players which had the cutest bar maids. DoV, Mr O and No Cash, all Liverpool fans so they reckon, then spent the next ninety minutes cheering for Chelsea against their team so that Man Utd wouldn’t win the League. Snake and I blanked the gay boys and talked Rugby. Dd went to the bog for a wank.
After a couple of hours and several Guinness we headed for some food. Opposite was a bookies so we had a couple of bets whilst waiting for a taxi. We were standing outside chatting with five of us looking down the road and No Cash facing us holding court when this girl walked past. Just as she drew level with the five of us who were facing the other way, No Cash looked at her and said “Jeez love, you’ve got the biggest box I’ve ever seen”. We all instantly turned around to see this girl carrying a Tupperware container which must have been 4 foot by 2 foot. Needless to say, in our pissed up state, it was the funniest thing ever. I guess you had to be there to appreciate it.
We headed back to the Casino and entered a £10 plus £10 bounty tournament which was just starting. The plan was to go mental at the start to get a load of chips and then set about trying to win it. No Cash took this to heart and went all in with Q 2 only for DoV to call him with AK. Flop KQ2, Q, X. DoV and No Cash hit the city centre first closely followed by Snake and Mr O. Chris, who had sat in the casino on his own all day, went next before Dd bust leaving me on my tod.
The tournament had been self dealt and unbeknownst to me our dealer had been Stumpy from the NPF. I only found this out as he got up and walked off after being eliminated and I noticed his name on the back of his shirt. For some unknown reason I then ended up dealing. This did have one advantage though, free Guinness. A few hours later I found myself on the final table. There was one man who I had been speaking to most of the weekend, Brian, who was a top guy, sitting next but one to me. Other than that, I knew no one.
I made a few nice plays, folded Jacks face up for some tight guy to flip over Aces. Eventually I ended up 4 of 4 with 3 times the big blinds. I shoved with A 9 to get insta called by JJ. Thank you and goodnight. Got sixty quid for fourth plus a further twenty quid in bounties.
By now it was one in the morning and I couldn’t be arsed to hit town. I spun twenty quid up to hundred on black jack before spotting Mike and Lou Saban. I chatted/bored them for a while and also chatted to the Kracked King guys for ages. About three O’clock DoV and Mr O walked in and things turned stupid for a while. Fuck knows what we were drinking but I can remember one round costing fifty quid.
Finally I dragged my sorry arse off to bed at six in the morning, another eighteen hour session to add to the two other mega ones I’d had this weekend.
The next day/five hours later, was purgatory. Mr O drove me, No Cash and DoV back to Blackpool. I had a quick cuppa with No Cash and Mrs No Cash who is far too good for that lunatic, before heading back to Gods Country. Eight and a half hours after leaving Newcastle I walked through the front door and collapsed into bed.
I honestly cannot wait for the next one!
Thanks to Big Mik for inviting me, hope I haven’t pissed on my chips for next year. A real pleasure to meet Pud, Snake, Mair, Stan and Chris for the first time. Hopefully you won’t run off like pussys next time? Also a pleasure to meet Mike and Lou along with the Kracked King guys and Stumpy and Brian from the NPF. Catch you next year folks. Always a pleasure having a beer with DoV, Mr O and Dd. When we hitting London you Northen Monkeys?
Finally, big heads up to No Cash for looking after me on the Friday night. Hasta la vista baby.
Later.

Day two - Saturday - Newcastle - 21 hours of bad beats, bad karma, Bud and Bulmers.

Dave woke me up early from my slumbers in the arm chair and made a cup of coffee for us both.
“Fuck me Rubbish, you were pissed last night. You sat down there and were out cold within seconds. I tried to wake you to go to the spare room but you were dead to the World”.
I didn’t doubt him for one second.
Twenty minutes later we were out of his house to meet Mr O and DoV for our lift to Newcastle. Dave informed me that he was taking the poker serious and wasn’t having a drink until 8.00pm that evening. DoV pitched up first, dropped off by his lovely missus. Dave and I looked at each other and shrugged. Sometimes there’s no justice in this World. Five minutes later Mr O turned up and we were off.
DoV had thoughtfully brought a case of Bud with him. What he hadn’t brought was his wallet so we had a detour to go back to his gaffe. Not sure why a battalion of the Welsh regiment was waiting outside his house when we got there?
And then we were off. The time was 8.30am and we were on our first beer of the day, 12 hours earlier than Dave had planned.
Mr O put on some horrendous music and punched Newcastle in the Sat Nav or the Cogs as I like to call it. Ten minutes up the M55 and DoV blurted out that he knew a shortcut. I inwardly groaned. Mr O punched in the new details and we said goodbye to motorway traffic for the remainder of the journey. By now Dave, DoV and I were on our second bottle.
The shortcut was eventful to say the least. After driving through country lanes, following tractors for miles, turning up someone’s drive and nearly mowing down twenty people walking around a village fete we started to climb through some mountain range. I’ve subsequently looked on a map and I haven’t a clue which one it is.
The gradient of the road got steeper and the mountain side turned into a massive pine forest. The trees were huge, sixty or seventy feet high and as the road narrowed so did the daylight. The first thunderclap passed overhead like a sonic boom. It was so loud we all actually ducked. The rain started, a light drizzle which soon turned into a torrential downpour. By now we were driving in pitch darkness and even with the headlights on visibility was only a couple of yards. An electrical storm passed so close overhead that it knocked the stereo and Cogs out. A lightning bolt crashed into the forest illuminating the tree line and that’s when I saw them first. Seven maybe eight feet high, moving quickly, much quicker than we were currently driving. Dave saw them as well.
Another thunder clap burst overhead reverberating through the car. One of the beasts was now by the side of us. It must have been doing twenty five mph. Blood red eyes and fangs were the only visible parts of its body. You could smell death on its breath. Mr O crunched down a gear. We were losing momentum as the roads gradient increased. Through the back window I spotted four more of them, lit up by a huge bolt of lightning. They were gaining and would be on us in seconds. The one to our left hand side swung a huge claw/paw at the side of the car. We momentarily went up on two wheels. DoV screamed.
What am I on about? It wasn’t that exciting a journey. We got lost several times and then, three hours later, we were there. Fuck knows how?
Actually we went to the wrong Hotel first off which was a bit gutting because there was a three foot midget, painted entirely blue and dressed in a smurf outfit. The amount of fun we could have had with that guy. I would have paid him fifty to have been our mascot for a couple of hours, running around the casino bollock naked, screaming “Raise the River” over and over. As it was Dd had to do that himself.
When we got to our proper Hotel we had had four buds each and Dave and I had topped up nicely. We met Mik, Pud, Snake and Dd and after a super quick shower headed for the Grosvenor. Once there we met up with Stan and Tripz and our team was complete.
I haven’t played in many live tournaments so I’m not sure if the atmosphere was lively or subdued. I’m guessing it was electric. We all had to walk on as a team and I tried to get the Madness, One step beyond, song. Unfortunately the music had been predetermined but how cool would it have been for us to have done the Madness walk into the arena.
I know quite a few of the RTR boys have played live and Mik, Snake, DoV and No Cash knew quite a few of the people in the other teams. I sort of knew one other person there which was Stan’s Wife, Mair. Spookily I ended up sitting next to her. We had a bit of a giggle chatting away but poker wise; one hour started blurring into another. I do know due to texting Dave though that at 17.30 I had $18k in chips from a starting stack of $7.5k.
Quite a few of the guys exited early and after a while only DoV, Mr O and myself were left. I’m not saying I would have lasted into the second day had there been quite a few of us left but my heart wasn’t in it towards the end. I went out with Q9 on a flop of KQ9. I couldn’t tell you if I limped into the hand out of position or raised in the big blind. All I know is I ended up all in for a huge pot and the other guy turned J10. No miracle Q or 9 on the turn or River and that was that. DoV bombed soon after and we converged at the bar.
At some stage in the evening Gazza walked in with an entourage. He was immediately surrounded by three floor managers and within one minute they were all leaving again. Very wierd.
A couple of the boys were playing in the side event so six or seven of us headed back to the Hotel for a change of gear before carrying on. There was a hen night in the reception who had finished for the evening so I guess it was past 2.00am at this point. One of the girls was sitting on the floor with someone, who shall remain nameless, standing next to her. Why he said it I do not know. Maybe he was thinking of the "is that your feet I can smell" joke? Maybe he was hallucinating? Maybe he was reeally drunk but without warning he asked her if the smell in reception was because she hadn’t washed her c***. Several punches were thrown at this point and he was so surprised by this I honestly think he didn’t realise he was speaking out loud.
We ended up going lap dancing, I think because most clubs had closed. It was shit. That said, some of the boys seemed to enjoy it. Finally we left and went back to the casino. A few more ciders whilst railing Snake who was crushing everyone in the side event which he ended up chopping for £370 before heading off at 5.30am. A nice little 21 hour session for Dave, DoV and myself which absolutely killed me.
Day three to follow.

Day one - Friday - Blackpool - the legendary Tower lounge and the legend that is "Dave no cash"

Travelling from Cardiff to Newcastle was starting to become a real problem. Flights from Cardiff would see me arrive a day early and leave a day after everyone else. Trains would take six hours and cost a small fortune. I also wasn’t sure of the start time of the tournament so guessed that I would have to leave Cardiff at six in the morning. Driving would logistically pose the same problems.
Eventually I posted an SOS on the RTR forum to meet up with someone on the Friday for a few pints and hopefully share a lift with on the Saturday. Luckily for me Dave “no cash” answered my call.
I had only met Dave once before but that was enough to convince me to jump in my car on Friday morning and head for Blackpool. Dave is one of these rare beasts that can drink his own body weight and he doesn’t care what is put in front of him. I’ve seen him start on Stella, move onto Guinness, have a swift couple of beers before ending with a few ciders. Add in all the Jamieson Whiskey he puts away as well and he’s a handful to go out boozing with. My kind of guy.
I got to Blackpool about two thirty in the afternoon and had a wander around whilst waiting for Dave to finish work. The one thing I can be 100% certain on is that at quarter past three I was in a pub called the Castle drinking my first Guinness.
I met with Dave shortly after that and we had a couple of swiftys in some Irish bars before heading for something to eat with another drink, of course. By this time I think we were on Cider but am not certain.
Next up was the legendary Tower Lounge. Legendary is their description not mine but it was interesting. It reminded me of the night club in the second Bourne film where the Russian assassin is drinking vodka surrounded by a load of gorgeous Women. The club is bouncing and the music is blaring out. He gets a call and walks out and it’s daylight. The Tower Lounge was exactly the same. There were stag nights, hen nights, drunks, idiots, the whole spectrum. We were drinking our third cider in there and I happened to glance at the main entrance. It was a glorious sunny day, six in the evening when you would expect it to be about midnight.
By eight o’clock we must have had ten plus pints. Everything was starting to get a bit messy.
I know we watched a Rugby match on the TV in a Weatherspoons pub and we got chatting to some girls on a hen night in another bar. At some point in the evening Dave suggested we head to the Grosvenor Casino to play some cash.
When the taxi pulled up outside the front door of the Casino I fell out. And when I say fell out I mean fell out. I crawled on my hands and knees to the bouncer who was stood shaking his head and used his suit jacket and tie to pull myself up. He wasn’t impressed and immediately told us we were too drunk to come in. I say “we” but he meant “me”. Dave tried to argue our case pointing out that we were so bladdered we were bound to do a few hundred at the tables. The bouncer was having none of it though so we headed back to the bars. It is at this point that I officially can remember nothing.
Where we ended up is unknown but I was sat at the bar speaking to some random people and Dave started playing pool. At some point Dave beat some guy and gave him a mouthful before doing a little winners dance in front of him. The guy took exception and swung the pool cue at him. Dave punched him and the guys mates who were stood behind Dave jumped in. Dave can remember curling up into a ball as these guys pummelled him and then being rolled out of the door by the bouncers. About half an hour later I walked out and asked him where he had been. Some wing man I am.
Dave thinks we called it a night at this point and headed back to his house. The time was unknown. From the little bits I can remember I guess we averaged two pints an hour up until midnight. Not the best way for the two of us to start the weekend off with a serious game of poker coming up and the reputation of RTR to uphold.
Day two tomorrow.

NPF Team poker tournament - an outline

I'm sure you all know I was heading to Newcastle last weekend for the above tournament. Well, it was a mad weekend. To write it up in one blog post would take about ten thousand words and the patience of a Saint to read in one sitting. I'm therefore going to split it into a three parter.
Before I start I might as well point out that there is only two things I'm certain of:
1. I texted Dave "No Cash" at 15.15pm on Friday from a pub in Blackpool whilst I was having my first pint of Guinness;
2. In the 63 hours that followed I was drinking for 50 of them.
Twenty years ago when I was young, dumb and full of drugs that wouldn't have been a problem. In fact it was probably happening quite regularly. These days though, I'm too old to keep up with the young bucks and by God I'm paying for it now.
But now is now and last weekend is a blurred memory of Guinness, cider, poker and laughs. I wish I had taken notes every hour and then I could have done a chronological write up which might have resembled fact. As it is I'm going from brief memories and recollections which kind of happens when you drink solidly for 50 hours.
One thing I do remember though is the amount of effort the Newcastle Poker Forum went into making the event a great one. I'd also like to thank Mik from Raise the River for inviting me.
The tournament was an outstanding financial success for me as I'm now in a position to lease my name to the other nine members of the RTR team who managed, along with myself, to score the massive sum of zero points. Quite a few people there reckoned we were fortunate to have got zero. One thing is for certain, I'm there next year if invited.
Anyhow, I'll be posting what I can recall over the next few days. I met quite a lot of people and was pleasantly surprised to find that a few of them read this shit regularly and actually seem to enjoy it. The reports will take in twelve hours in Blackpool that I can't remember, a twenty one hour drinking session spoilt only by a game of poker and a further seventeen and a half hour session in which I won and lost some money. Interspersed in all this frantic drinking is a poker tournament, a three foot midget painted from head to toe in blue and dressed up as smurf, Paul Gascoigne, lap dancers, fights, seventeen Premier Inns, Snake cashing, getting hopelessly lost in Scotland (DoV), rimming, one liners, last longer bets which I may or may not be able to talk about (Mike, Lou?), dildos, personal hygiene issues, a Woman with the biggest box ever, bouncers with no sense of humour and a whole lot more. Strangely there were no guns involved.
Stay tuned.

Name change

When I started this blog I didn't think for one second I would have to meet people who read it. The first time I did I discovered very quickly why "Rubbish@poker" was such a shite title.
"Hi, I'm rubbish, who are you?"
This weekend I'm on the RTR team bash in Newcastle and will be meeting people for the first time. With that in mind you will notice my Blog has changed title.
I had a few names in mind including:
Hi, I shagged Cheryl Cole up the arse
Hi, I'm Jeremy Clarkson's love child
Hi, I've got a 14 inch dick
Hi, I'm one for one on RTR do's
I've gone with "pleased to meet you" just to piss people off.
Random bloke - "Who are you mate?"
Me - "I'm pleased to meet you, now fuck off".
Later.

Newcastle nights out that I sort of remember.

Next weekend I'm off to Blackpool and Newcastle on a Poker jolly with the RTR crew. I've only ever been to Blackpool once and I think I may have blogged about it before. I've been to Newcastle three times but can only remember two of them. How bizzare is that?
The first time in Newcastle was probably the best. Seven of us had decided to drive to Edinburgh for the Rugby. We set off on the Thursday but the snow was so bad we had to take refuge in Newcastle for the night. We stopped off in a place called Whitley Bay and found a cheap B & B for the night.
The guy who ran it was a good laugh and we had a couple of beers with him before heading off to a pub. The snow was coming down in a blizzard and we were just about to leave when he stopped us.
"Don't bother wearing coats boys, you'll get in the first pub, end up taking them off and someone will nick them".
We took his advice allthough walking to the pub in a foot of snow, shivering like fuck, I seriously doubted whether I would be taking a coat off.
I can't remember the name of the pub but as we walked in the heat hit us like a punch in the face and the first thing we saw was the barmaid dancing on the bar in a bikini. What a town.
The next morning we got up, seriously hung over. Dave and I had both decided that Edinburgh could go fuck itself and we were staying for the weekend. Big G agreed and that was that. We asked the guy if we could stay for a couple more days and he laughed.
"I've already reserved the rooms for you boys because I knew you wouldn't be going anywhere after a night out here".
On the Friday night we met a gang of Scots boys who were on a stag weekend and ended up having a laugh with them. After arranging to meet them to watch the match on the Saturday we ended up in some bar where Big G was chatting to this girl. In fairness G does allright with the Ladies but this girl was not having any of it and finally told him to fuck off as she was a Lesbian.
The next day we met the Scots in this pub and they dragged us off to another one because there were strippers there. The first two girls came on and did a lesbian show and you've guessed it, there was the girl who Big G had been chatting up. At least he knew that she wasn't lying and was a Lesbian.
Later that evening we fell foul of the local crime lord/drug dealer. G, who had the piss taken out of him all day, was dancing with this girl when some guy walks over and whispers something to her. Off she trots and G sits down with us whingeing like a good one. This girl starts arguing with some guy so G wanders over to see if sh's okay. This guy tells G to fuck off and a couple of big fuckers stand either side of G in a menacing manner. We are all clocking this and Dave nudges me and says "get ready".
One of the guys puts his hand on G's shoulder and he immediately elbows him in the face breaking his nose. The other guy gets a straight hand in the throat and he goes down gasping for breath. The crime lord stands up and pulls a gun on G and the whole place just stops. Unfortunately for this guy, he manages to pull a gun on the one person who had just spent a year in Rio and Sao Paulo, having guns pulled on him on a daily basis. G leans forward so that the gun is inches away from his forehead and questions whethe the guy has the bollocks to do it. Three hundred people are now watching this spectacle and we all stand next to G in a show of solidarity. This stand off only lasted a few seconds but it seemed like fucking hours. Eventually this guy laughs, puts the gun away and buys us all a beer. G pulls the girl and everyone lives to fight another day.
The second time I went to Newcastle is the one that I can't remember. I know it was a stag weekend and I know Dave and G were there. I also know that I had to travel up on my own because I had to work on the Friday on a concert. The only other thing I can recall is going to the Tuxedo Princess.
For those that don't know the Tuxedo Princess is a ship moored on the Tyne that has been turned into a giant Club. Three floors all playing dfferent music and these revolving dance floors that absolutely creased me, not once but three times. And always when I was holding about three pints. Other than that I can't remember fuck all about that weekend.
The last time I went was on another stag weekend. We went to Newcastle Rugby Club on the Saturday to watch Newcastle v Bath and and when we got to the ground there was a massive banner which read "MY DOG IS BETTER THAN MIKE CATT". Class.
Later.

Monday's

A typical Monday.
Get up and hit the gym. Weights and then half hour on the running machine before a nice hot shower. My neighbour popped round earlier with a bottle of home brew, super strong, which I'll have this afternoon whilst watching a couple of DVD's. I've got a few spliffs already rolled for the Xbox tourney with the lads later on. After that I'll troll the gambling sites for an hour or so before watching some porn.


I fucking love prison!

Had that texted to me today and it would be funny if it wasn't so fucking true.
In the papers this morning is a story regarding Jon Venables. For anyone reading in the US of A who might not be aware, this guy perpetrated one of the worst crimes in living memory.
Along with his accomplice, Robert Thompson, they kidnapped and murdered a three year old boy. They were just ten years old at the time.
Now twenty seven, Jon Venables is back behind bars for downloading kiddie porn allthough I'm not sure you can call it prison. His cell is equipped with a flat screen HD TV, Nintendo game cube, gym equipment, music system, guitar, board games and a power shower.
What a fucking joke.
I could go on but I think I'll probably blow a gasket just thinking about the absurdity of it all.

Who decides these things?

Watched a remake of V the other night which was okay. I suppose if you are going to remake an entire series then, in this day and age, a Sci Fi series would be the one you'd go for. But surely there are better programmes that have been made which could be revamped?
I never really watched Blakes Seven but I remember reading reviews where they slated the programme because the sets were so wooden along with the acting. And what about Buck Rogers in the 25th Century? Or Logans run or the Twilight Zone? My favourite though for a remake would be the Man from UNCLE.
And what about films? I would love to see an updated version of Jack the Giant Killer. Don't know if you have ever seen it but it always used to be shown on New Years Day for some reason. I think the Sinbad movies would also look good if they were made now.
When I was a kid I used to read the 2000AD comic (sad I know). There was one series about how humans had killed all animals so used time travel to go back to prehistoric age to kill Dinosaurs and transport them back to present time for food. Now, that would be a good TV programme. Who decides these things?

Arsenal lost to Spuds yesterday, kinda thought they would. The worst thing about this though is Would Be and Joppa have shut down their blogs. Real shame this as I'm guessing there was a lot of banter amongst those two on MSN yesterday and today.
I've noticed quite a few people have shut their blogs down recently. Tennyson has disappeared. So has Madame Nikki. Shame as I really liked their blogs. There was also one called happily after ever by a South African girl which ended abruptly. I always fear the worse when something like that happens especially when they live somewhere as violent as South Africa. Hope she's okay.

Anyhow, got any good ideas for remake TV programmes or films?

I'm still alive honest.

Been missing in action for awhile now so just a quick post to promise to be on here a lot more in the coming weeks.
Work has been rediculously busy and I've just been so knackered I haven't bothered coming on here at all.
Poker has been non existant and I haven't played in two or three months. Of course this level of activty has been great practice for the RTR meet up in Newcastle next month.
Gambling was going great until two weeks ago when I lost £700 in three days. I then managed to claw most of ths back until I layed Tiger for a top five finish in the Masters and then suffered watching him luck out over four days to finish fourth and lose me another £500. I did have the winner of the National though for a few quid.
Apart from Newcastle I've got a stag weekend in May to somewhere as yet not decided or London if Cardiff City making the play off final.
I've also got two weddings and a Christening on the horizon. Basically, nice and quiet then for the next month.
It was my Mums birthday last week and whilst out shopping with my nipper she talked me into buying the Outnumbered series 1 DVD for her. Absolutely awesome if you've never watched it. Also been gettng super competitive on Mario Kart with her and we spent nine hours one Saturday racng each other much to my Wifes disgust.
Anyhow, got to get up in five hours so need to get some sleep. Hope everyone is okay and will be trawling your blogs over the next few days. Catch you all later.

Dublin 2010

Another weekend in Dublin, another hangover from hell. Actually that's not true as I couldn't afford to get that drunk. Since Ireland have joined the Euro the prices have gone through the roof. Almost £8 a pint in most places which came as a shock.
Croke Park was pretty cool though even if Wales threw away another game. Lee Byrne was lucky not to get red carded and we conceded another two trys whilst down to 14 men.
Not sure when I'll go back to Dublin again. I used to go maybe three or four times a year but with the prices now I don't think I'll be going anytime soon.
I can remember when I first went and there were 40,000 Welsh fans there. That's pretty impressive when you take into account that there's only 3,000,000 people in Wales. Over 1% of the population going on the piss for a weekend to watch a Rugby match. Just to put that in perspective that would be the equivalent of England taking 750,000 people to Paris to watch a Footie match or America taking 4,500,000 people to Canada to watch the Ice Hockey. I'm guessing there wasn't even 10,000 Welsh out in Ireland this year.
Not much else been happening recently. Work is stupidly busy. Dave's missus had a baby girl last week so we've had a few beers to wet her head. Haven't done much else. Still sleeping like an hamster and still off the fags. Four weeks and counting.
Will catch up with everyone this week.
Later.

It takes all sorts.

Dave rang me the other night for a cheeky pint after work so we met up in a bar we don’t normally frequent. We’re halfway through our first pint when a guy who we both vaguely know walks in. He gets a beer and walks over to where we are standing to say hello.
Although we both don’t know the guy really well we both know his girlfriend. She had been mates with one of Dave’s exes and was a real cutey.
Anyhow, we’re chatting away about nothing in particular and Dave asks how Jen is. This guy says that they’ve split up and he hasn’t seen her for a while. We offer our apologies and carry on making small talk about nothing in particular. I can’t remember how the conversation veered onto the truly bizarre but this guy managed to drop “yeah, Jen used to shit on my chest, the best bit was when she smeared it in” into it.
Dave and I stood there open mouthed whilst this guy then tells us that his current girlfriend refused to do it point blank and won’t even discuss it. With that, he finishes his pint and announces he’s off to pick up a Chinese and he’ll see us around.
We probably stood there in silence for about five minutes before Dave asked whether he had heard him correctly. I concurred and we drank our pints in an eerie silence before heading home.
A little later I started to think about this revelation and married Women in general. I’ve decided that Women fall into three categories. And I’ve got some high profile evidence to back my theories up.
The 90% Woman – these are your normal Married Women who you have to coax for weeks to get a Birthday blowjob. I’m looking at Tiger’s Wife and thinking no chance of a blowjob for him until Hell freezes over. His thirteen minute grovelling apology to his sponsors was probably the most cringe worthy piece of TV this year although it only held this record for a few hours until Eastenders live 25th anniversary show later that evening.
The 9.99% Woman – even after a few years of marriage these Women can surprise you by blowing you at a drop of a hat. Sometimes I look at Cheryl Cole and I can imagine her sidling up to you on the couch as you watch the Footie on a Thursday night. Twenty minutes later you’re sat there with a stupid grin on your face and a further half hour later you realise you’re watching the vicar of Dibley and the cheeky minx has flipped the channels over when you were concentrating on your money shot. The fact that Cashley deemed it necessary to cheat on Cheryl suggests the slimy, money grabbing piece of scum might be looking for that rarest of Women, the 0.01%er. Well, as luck would have it Cashley, you don’t have to look too far.
The 0.01% Woman – here’s a Woman who will shit on your chest and smear it in as well if you ask her nicely. When John Terry cheated on his Wife Toni for the umpteenth time she did what any self respecting Woman would do, packed her bags and headed to Dubai. But this wasn’t just some bimbo JT had bedded, it was an ex team mates girlfriend and friend of his Wife. And he hadn’t just bedded her but got her pregnant, paid for the abortion and given her an £80k sweetener as well. And this was all played out in the media just to add to the embarrassment of the long suffering Toni. But wait, three days after jetting to Dubai she tells the Worlds press that she has forgiven JT. She loves him more than ever and they are going to make another go of it. If Cashley wants’ someone to shit on his chest, I think we have a prime candidate.

Quick update

Big thanks to everyone who has posted me best wishes or sent an e-mail, glad to say all is well. I’ve had the all clear from the Doctor in a roundabout sort of way. All my blood tests came back showing that everything was functioning as it should. My chest X-ray wasn’t so good which is no surprise seeing as I’ve smoked since I was a kid. I’ve got the first stage of COPD which sounds bad but I’ve lucked out by having it diagnosed so early. Bottom line is give up smoking and live to a ripe old age, carry on smoking and I’ll be fucked by the time I reach my mid fifties.
So, gave up smoking last Thursday and apart from having to leave the pub at half time in the Wales v Scotland game on Saturday for a fag or risk throwing my pint glass through the TV screen, I’ve done quite well. Stupidly though, I feel like shit at the moment. Stinking cold, migraine, chesty cough. If I carry on like this I might have to start back.
Also received more good news last week when my Daughter got accepted into our preferred choice of Secondary Schools. Chuffed to bits with that and I’ve promised to take her shopping on the weekend for whatever she wants. I’m hoping she goes for a greyhound but I guess it will be a game for the Wii or Ds. Might have to make sure we go shopping at Crayford.
Twickenham was a good laugh the weekend before last. Thirteen of us had a stretch Limo from Cardiff and managed to go all of ten yards before the driver crashed. Some girl cut him up in this Mini and when he jumped out her boyfriend who was in the passenger seat followed suit and started squaring up to him. Thirteen ex Rugby players then got out and squared up to this gobby little shit who very quickly shut up and sat back in the car with his tail between his legs.
Had a monster session on the Saturday, starting off in London Welsh and ending up in our favourite Irish bar in Brentford. Sixteen hours of Guinness and Strongbow just about finished me off. Glad I didn’t have the blood tests on the day after that.
Not done much this week but will be starting back training soon so that I don’t become a fat bastard now I’ve quit smoking. Will also be looking in on all my favourite bloggers and Mo.
Later.

Another tour

I've been to the Doctors and Hospital for a barrage of tests and I get the results next week. Fingers crossed that it's nothing serious and I'm just a lazy twat. Still sleeping for stupidly long periods but that's about to come to an abrupt end. Off to London for the England v Wales Six Nations match in a few hours time.
I've been going to Twickenham since I was a kid and I've never seen Wales win there in all that time. The last trip two years ago I didn't bother going to the match and Wales won. Wont be going to the match this time so the omens are good.
There's a dozen of us making the trip which means as soon as we cross the the Severn bridge the average IQ of England will shoot up by 30%.
Apart from the Rugby we were supposed to be celebratng one of the boys 40th but his Wife is due with their first child anytime now and he's pulled out. Some would say he should have done that nine months ago! Personally I think he's a fucking lightweight. Dave is coming which is always value and there's a few boys who we used to play Rugby with making the trip as well so it should be a cracker.
There's nothing like a Rugby tour to get the adrenaline pumping. We normally have a bottle of Welsh Tequila which means it has to be drunk before you leave Wales. There's all the normal fines for being late, not having the proper attire (this weekends is Hawaiin shirt, red scarf and odd socks which just so happens to be my normal dress code) and of course the buzz circle.
Our game of choice is "Commander says" which is a little bit too difficult to explain here but you can take it as read that there will be a few pissed up idiots strolling through Richmond tomorrow afternoon.
My favourite England v Wales trip was when Wales were actually the home team playing at Wembley. I was working that game but met up with Dave and a few others straight after and we headed for the bright lights. About four in the morning we were in a bar in Kensington which was done out like a cave. By now there was only myself, Dave and big G left. The barman, called Mustapha, was chatting to us and Big G was working his charm on the barmaid who was Brazilian. Having lived there he spoke quite good Portuguese so they were getting on well. There was no one else there when this gang of skinheads walk in. Mustapha refuses to serve them and with that they start to kick off hurling a few choice racist comments his way. There was about eight of them and a hammering was on the cards but there was no way we were going to stand for that so the three of us got up and Big G got in the face of the ringleader. Before anything could happen this bouncer who none of us had seen before stepped out of the shadows and stood in front of the three of us. These skinheads all looked up at him and had second thoughts. This guy was huge, Black and looked fucking nasty. They turned and walked leaving us to breath a sense of relief. Mustapha was stunned that we had stood up for him and we ended up drinking there for free until eight in the morning.
The bouncer it transpired had sparred with Frank Bruno and was an established heavyweight in his own right although I don't remember his name. What I do remember is standing in front of him, poking him in his chest and calling him a big soft fucking bear. His laugh resonated off the walls so loudly I thought the place was going to collapse.
Finally, the Brazillian girl took us back to her place for breakfast and to meet her mates. Happy days.
Have a good weekend folks and catch you all next week hopefully.
Cymru am byth.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Not sure what's wrong with me at the moment. Got home at four on Friday afternoon and went to bed for an hour. Woke up at eight on Saturday morning! Fell asleep in the afternoon for a few hours before going to bed early. Woke up a few times mainly because DoV was texting me about the RTR trip to Manchester. Slept for thirteen hours on Saturday night and then had a couple of more hours on Sunday afternoon. Went to bed last night about eleven to get up at five this morning. Out of sixty hours from when I left work on Friday to getting up on Monday morning I've slept for forty of them!!
I'm going to the Doctors tomorrow for a check up.
Stupidly, I don't feel ill, just listless. I'm not stressed at work. In fact it's one of the easiest jobs I've ever had and the pay isn't bad either. I'm not depressed, life's great. The family are all healthy so no worries there.
Really do not know what's wrong with me. Hopefully my Doctor will.
The WCBOOP kicks off tonight. I think most of the tournaments start at 10pm UK time which is a real pain especially since I could fall asleep on a chickens lip. There's a prize for best blog reports so I'm going to have a go for that as I haven't a chance of actually winning one of the tournaments the way my luck is going.
I've noticed a few other people are struggling on the virtual felt. I know what they're going through even though I only play for fun.
Will catch up with everyones blogs tomorrow if I'm awake long enough.
Later.

First break and I'm on $1400 chips with a 1000 still left. Had AK on a A9x flop. Got it all in against a guy with A7. Turn 9, leaving him one out. Yep, final Ace on the river for us to split the pot. Aaaaaaaaaargh.

2nd break and I'm on £3k, 343 left. Doubled up when my KK hit. Landed on Dales table and was chatting to him at the time on his live feed. Limped with AK and hit an ace on the flop. He said good luck and bet $500, I went all in and he folded before calling me all the twats going.

And out in 305th when my KQ on a KQx flop runs into KK.

Off to bed for another 5 hours kip.

Later.

Betting on the Scousers

Not sure why I didn't bet on the Football at the latter end of 2009 but I've come back with a bang this year. As the title suggests, most of my bets have had a Liverpool connection.
Watched the Liverpool v Reading cup tie last Wednesday and couldn't see Liverpool holding on to their one goal lead and layed them at 1.1 going into injury time. Reading duly obliged with a 93rd minute equaliser and a further lay on Liverpool to qualify saw me clear £100 on that match.
Saturday and a sense of deja vu has Liverpool again threw away a one nil lead in the 90th minute, this time I was on at 1.12. Actually quite unluck as I layed the draw straight away at 1.07 and Kuyt missed a sitter.
Keeping up with the Scouse connection I also had Rooney to score anytime (and Lampard) and then lumped on Everton to beat Man City after having watched them stuff Arsenal the week before only to end up with a draw (another last minute equaliser).
My Liverpool betting sequence had started off a week previously with a massive bet on Ferrari to win the Formula one championship.
Okay, I can hear you all saying Ferrari, surely the quintessential Italian car manufacturer and fuck all to do with Liverpool. Well you're wrong.
Buried in the sporting press a week ago was this story which as soon as I read it prompted me to lump on.

Scousers join Ferrari.
“The Ferrari F1 team fired their entire pit crew yesterday."
This announcement followed Ferrari's decision to take advantage of the British government's 'Work for your Dole' scheme and employ some Liverpudlian youngsters. The decision to hire them was brought about by a recent documentary on how unemployed youths from Toxteth were able to remove a set of wheels in less than 6 seconds without proper equipment, whereas Ferrari's existing crew could only do it in 8 seconds with millions of pounds worth of high tech equipment.
It was thought to be an excellent, bold move by the Ferrari management team as most races are won and lost in the pits, giving Ferrari an advantage over every other team.
However, Ferrari got more than they bargained for! At the crew's first practice session, not only was the scouse pit crew able to change all four wheels in under 6 seconds but, within 12 seconds, they had re-sprayed, re-badged and sold the car to the Mclaren team for 8 cases of Stella, a bag of weed and some photos of Hamilton's bird in the shower.

It seemed a good bet at the time but with hindsight I may have blown that one.
Been really busy at work again and haven't been visiting that many blogs but promise to make a concerted effort to look in on everyone this week. I've also acquired a couple more followers and am now up to 51 so thanks to everyone who has signed up. This blog has been going for a year now so I've managed to gain a follower a week which I'm quite chuffed about.
On another note I signed up for the humour blogs listings a couple of weeks ago. I got an e-mail back saying my blog didn't meet the right criteria? Now, I wouldn't mind that except have you seen some of the blogs on that site? I guess they're saying that this shite isn't funny. Fair enough but neither are 90% of the other shit blogs you already have as members. Fucking wankers are having a laugh which I suppose is quite humourous.
All the best.
Later.

Poker and understanding Female speak

Poker has been quite shite recently. Won a couple of hundred playing cash, broke even on STT’s and down about a ton on MTT’s. I’ve gone deep in a couple of tourneys but haven’t made a final table so far in 2010. Must try harder.
Had one ridiculous beat last week when my Ac Qc Jd 9d failed to get home on a Kc 10d 8c flop and some plum who had re raised me all in won with a pair of tens.
Saw a classic earlier on the same table when I folded Jx 10x 9x 8x on a Kx Kx Ax flop and two players got it all in only for an Ace to come on the river giving one quad kings and the other quad aces, Totally sick.
You’ve probably noticed these plastered all over everyone’s blogs so here is mine.

The WBCOOP is a free online Poker tournament open to all Bloggers, so register on WBCOOP to play.

Also, Full Tilt have their FTOP’s running in Feb. Buy ins are too big for me but I’m going to try and satellite into a couple of them over the next few weeks.
One good thing to happen recently is my Wii fit age has reduced drastically. I’m now a year younger than I actually am which is bugging my Wife and Daughter no end. The three of us have been playing on it most evenings and it’s starting to get quite competitive. Last week My Daughter was off school due to the snow so my Missus took a couple of days off. Got home one evening and the pair of them had top scored on every game. I’ve managed to claw back top spot on the obstacle course and a few of the balance games but the witches are on it as soon as my back is turned.
I guess I shouldn’t be so competitive especially with my Daughter but I’ve never been known for being an ideal Dad. I remember the first time I had to bathe her. My Missus came in half way through and caught me swishing her around the bath with a big stick.
“You don’t bathe a baby with a stick” she screamed at me.
“You do when the water is this fucking hot” I argued.
“Argued” isn’t really the correct word though as I learnt a long time ago that arguing with my Missus is futile. Here’s what I have learnt in thirteen years of Marriage.
“Fine” – this is a word my Wife uses to end an argument when she is right and I need to shut up.
“Five minutes” – If she is getting dressed this means one hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if I have been given five more minutes to watch the game before cooking dinner.
“Nothing” – This is the calm before the storm. “Nothing” definitely means something and I need to be on my toes. Arguments that begin with “nothing” usually end in “fine”.
“Go ahead” – This is a dare not permission. I try not to accept but when I do the last word I hear before leaving the house is “Fine”.
“Loud sigh” – This is actually a word and is a non verbal statement often misunderstood by me. A “loud sigh” means she thinks I’m an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with me about “nothing”.
“That’s okay” – This is one of the most dangerous statements my Wife will make. “That’s okay” means she wants to think long and hard before deciding on how and when I will pay for my mistake.
“Whatever” – This is Her way of saying “fuck you”.
“Thanks” – My Wife is actually thanking me. I never question her or faint, I just say “you’re welcome”. “Thanks a lot” is totally different. “Thanks a lot” is pure sarcasm and she is not thanking me at all. I never, ever answer “Thanks a lot” with “you’re welcome” as this results in a “Whatever”.
“Don’t worry, I’ll do it” – Another one of the most dangerous statements my Missus can utter. This is used when she has told me to do something several times but is now doing it herself. This usually results in me asking “What’s wrong?”. For my Wife’s response re-read “Nothing”.
Hope this helps someone.
Later.

New Years Eve, Wii fit and copious amounts of Port.

Had a total blast on New Years Eve and only now am I beginning to recover.
Went out in the afternoon for a couple with some mates who were grounded in the night and one other who flew to Egypt early this morning. We had a good laugh and I knew at least one of them would be out later in the evening.
Grabbed a Chinese on the way home, she wasn't happy, before watching Doctor Who.
Dave, his Missus and their little boy came over about half seven and we set the Wii fit up. If you haven't got one then I can only recommend you get your arse out to the shops tommorow and buy one. They're fucking awesome.
When you first set it up for someone to play on they have to enter their age and height. It then does a series of tests where you have to balance and keep these lines matched up on the screen. It's basically a coordination test. After this is complete it works out your Wii Fit age.
I'm seven years older than I should be and three stone overweight which is a load of bollocks. My eleven year old was the perfect weight but for some reason was thirty three? My Wife. to her horror and mine, is sixty. Daves Missus who is a fitness instructor and six monthe pregnant was exactly the right weight for her age which mortified her no end. Dave was thirteen years older than he is and obese. It was at this point that I pissed myself.
We then mucked about for a few hours whilst Dave and I downed two bottles of port and a few cans. There's one game on there where you have to run through a series of obstacles, a bit like Sonic or Mario, but you're the one doing all the running. I've been on this constantly and haven't got past six hundred metres yet but when you add up all the attempts I've had I've run about 7k which is 7k more than I would have this Xmas.
My Daughter and Wife have started petitioning for Hula Hoops to become an Olympic sport, they've been doing it so much. Dave's Missus was pretty awesome on most of the games. Dave was fucking shite which amused me no end.
Seriously, if you haven't got a Wii Fit then get one.
About tennish Daves Missus went home with the boy and my Missus who doesn't drink decided she wasn't going to bother coming out. Result.
Dave and I headed to our local for a few more. It was bouncing in there and a couple of the boys had managed to get passes for the evening. We grabbed a table and proceeded to drink Guinness and port chasers for the next few hours. I'm not sure what time I got home but I do remember having to knock my next door neighbours house, they were up, and get one of them to open my front door as I couldn't get the key in the lock. Totally wasted.
Oh well, another one over thank fuck.
Later.
Edit......
winner, winner, chicken dinner.

Blwyddyn Newydd Dda

Happy New Year folks.