Last Wednesday night I simply couldn’t pass up Germany at 8/11 to beat England in Dortmund. The Three Lions were without Harry Kane, Wayne Rooney, Daniel Sturridge and Theo Walcott so in my little cartoon head I had ze Germans as stick ons.
Rather than watch the match at home I went to my local and watched it with a male called Fatty Sherry. The Sherry Bomb was disgusted after discovering that I had backed Germany and launched into an ugly diatribe alleging that I was a ‘traitor’ and a ‘sh**house’ for backing against Gareth Southgate’s men.
I wasn’t having it. If he was griefing me I felt it only right and proper to sling a few bombs back about his weight. After all this is a bloke who my cousin once shared a house with and who commented that he was so fat when he walked past the TV my cousin missed two full episodes of Robot Wars.
Traitor? I’ll s**t em…
* * * * * * * * * *
So the clocks went forward on Sunday. No more dark nights, thank f**k. I’ve always thought people who prefer dark nights to light to be dodgy. You know, like closet necrophiliacs dodgy.
Sunday was a glorious day in the north east of England but having vowed to have a weekend off the demon drink I resisted all overtures to go boozing and spent the day at home shooting the odd covetous glance at Snapchat. Spring had definitely sprung and it was a wonderful feeling to know that summer was around the corner. Obviously the deal is with the clock situation we lose an hours worth of precious sleep. But that was nothing compared to the two hours I lost on the same day watching Scotland v Slovenia.
Gordon Strachan had described the match as “must win” for the Jocks, but having seen a fair bit of them in recent times I was convinced they were very iffy favourites at Hampden Park. So, faster than you could say ‘See you Jimmy’ I had smashed Slovenia to the tune of £200 at 1/2 in the ‘Double Chance’ market meaning I’d touch if they won or drew.
Just as I fancied the match was a veritable stinker and with less than five minutes to go and the score still 0-0 I was mentally counting my winnings. Step forward Chris Martin, who in the 89th minute scored an unlikely winner for the Tartan Army to send a half full Hampden into raptures and leave me contemplating a week of eating Space Raiders with a fork.
* * * * * * * * * *
I woke up on Tuesday feeling as fit as two fiddles. The plan was to go the the gym early doors and not eat any sh**e that day. The plan certainly wasn’t having a £160 early morning treble consisting of Australia, South Korea and Japan.
The Aussies were 4/11 shots to beat UAE at home and duly did the business 2-0. I backed Japan minus a goal on the handicaps and they duly rolled Thailand 4-0. I was therefore waiting on South Korea, who faced a crunch World Cup qualifier at home to Syria, for a return of £311.
I watched the live updates on my lunch break at work but obviously from the comfort of my car to avoid having to answer awkward questions from colleagues about why I was gambling three figure sums on football matches involving Syria?
Anyhow a solitary goal from the ever dependable Hong Jeong-ho was enough to get the Koreans over the line, and satisfy my gambling lust till the Miami Masters tennis resumed at 4pm.
Cheeky’s Punt of the Week: Leicester City to beat Stoke City at 21/20 (Marathon Bet)