The Sure Thing

There’s no such thing as a sure thing . Except , of course , death . I nearly forgot about that . Apart from death , there’s no sure thing . My old man always said that and he certainly knew about gambling on sure things that always finished last .Every day of his life he would place umpteen bets in all sorts of combinations - doubles , trebles , Yankees , accumulators etc. He never seemed to win although sometimes he would get a lift , as he called it . This meant the bookie was giving him back a tiny percentage of the money he had been kind enough to donate to his villa in Spain and private schools for the kids . He would be pleased for a day or two and tell everybody he met -mainly fellow unsuccessful punters , about his great good fortune in getting a lift . This would encourage them to keep up their donations to the bookie’s enviable lifestyle . Thus the cycle of hope over experience would continue . Tomorrow might be their turn for a lift .

I’ve got my gambling under control . No, really , I have . One bet on a Saturday . A classic mug bet . A ten quid treble . Only bet what you can afford to lose . So , what’s a tenner , these days ? Wouldn’t even get you a night out or a good shopping . I’ve nearly won a fortune a few times this way . Two outsiders -25 to 1 and 33 to 1 had romped home then the final one was still at the starting line when the race finished . Probably drugged . Who thinks racing’s honest , these days?

So , this Saturday I wandered into my local turf accountant’s . I love that expression -turf accountant . Talk about a euphemism .

I wandered in just after nine in the morning . The usual suspects were already there . The kind of guys who stand outside waiting for it to open . They try to make a joke out of it by referring to it as their - office . It’s more of a home for them , I think . They can meet kindred spirits united in the brotherhood of failure . You’d maybe get the odd suit stoating in and betting big . He’d probably have a flash car outside as well and maybe an attractive blonde in it . The usual suspects hated him but he gave them the incentive to keep punting . Maybe he was a big-time professional gambler who had the secret . A system . Maybe if they sussed it out they could have the suit , car and woman . He was probably just a dickhead with a company car and a wee secretary he was trying to impress .

Well , this Saturday I was writing out my usual mug bet , as I said , a ten quid treble . I picked Flash In The Pan , Uranus and Mistaken Identity . Did you know that some of the owners deliberately give their horses filthy names just to have a laugh at the commentator saying - Mary Huff’s putting in a spurt to the finish , and the like .

The Channel 4 commentator never calls Uranus - Your Anus . He’s wise to them .

So , I was scribbling away when I heard Frankie’s voice . He’s the kind of guy you always hear before you see him . If talking loud and laughing were Olympic events he’d be a gold medal winner . Harmless enough and definitely a usual suspect .

Frankie spotted me . Straight away in with the bullshit .

“ Aw! Aw! Look who it is! The man with all the money ! Big man , how you doing?”

If five nine makes me a big man I’ll answer to it . In Glasgow anyone over five six is a big guy . Over six feet tall and they’re a giant . A freak of nature . Kids follow them down the street just to see where the giant’s going .

“Alright, Frankie?”

“More than all right , my good man . Brand new .”

From the look of his wrinkly face , bad teeth , lack of hair and baggy eyes , it was a long time since Frankie had been brand new . His clothes looked as though they’d been slept in , not necessarily by him .

He sidled up to to me and whispered

“ Got a tip . Straight from the stable . A sure thing . No , The Sure Thing of all time .

Interested ? ”

“ Frankie Boy , there is no such thing as a sure thing . You know that . I know that . Everybody in here knows that.”

“Naw , Big Man , this is The Sure Thing of All Time . I kid you not.”

“Okay , what’s the sure thing of all time called ?”

“ Worth A Flutter . Two thirty at Kempton . Cannot lose .”

I hate horse owners who give their nags twee names and this must rank as the twee-est yet . Worth A Flutter , indeed . Why not be honest and call it Born To Lose . That’s more like the truth at least . Don’t they know of the trades descriptions act ?

“ Who’s on it ?” I asked . I didn’t really care . I knew it would be some short arse knuckle trailer from the back of beyond .

“ Dandini .”

“ And here’s the best thing . It’s fifty to one . The bookies think it’s got no chance . My contact at the stable says it cannot lose . I’m putting a tonne on it . You should have a punt .”

I gave it my full consideration for perhaps five seconds then said .

“ Thanks but no thanks , Frankie .

I’ll stick to my usual ten quid treble .

By the way , where did you get a hundred quid from ?”

“ Well , I was hoping you would make a small contribution of say …”

He looked me straight in the eye . I knew this meant he was trying to read my gullibility and/or stupidity quotient .

“ …twenty or even …ten would do … then you’d be in the syndicate .”

I had to admire his cheek , really . He probably had three pence to contribute to his - syndicate .

“ Who else is in the…syndicate ?” I asked .

“ Well … there’s two of us if you chip in some dosh .”

“ Get some more mugs …or syndicate members and I might consider a tenner .”

“ Good man . I’ll get back to you soon . You won’t regret it . Catch you later ”

I never saw Frankie later , at all . I was glad . There was no way I was contributing a penny to his Sure Thing . He’d probably found some mugs somewhere else .

A couple of weeks later one of the usual suspects came up to me in the bookies .

“ Your Frankie’s mucker , aren’t you , mate ?”

“ I know Frankie , aye.”

“ Did you hear what happened to him with his Sure Thing ?”

“ Naw , what happened ? Let me guess . It got stuffed .”

The guy looked at me in amazement as if I was a mind-reader .

“ Aye , finished last . A lot of heavy people in his syndicate were after his blood then you know what happened ?”

He looked at me closely to see if I’d do my mind-reading trick again .

“ No.”

Well the upshot was Frankie was completely wiped out after The Sure Thing incident. Not a bean to his name . Then he found a pound coin on the pavement and being the born optimist that every gambler is , bought a lottery ticket . The lottery ticket’s the winning rollover one and he wins seven and a half million . Would you credit it ?

The stupid get makes it big . So , if he can so can I and so can you . There is no Sure Thing anyway at all and you know what I said about death being the only Sure Thing , I don’t think it is now. I read this article in the dentist’s and their trying to cure death .

Can you believe it ? We’re all going live longer and longer so science and technology will probably cure it completely at some stage . There you go - no Sure Things , only a random and chaotic universe where anything can happen . If arseholes like Frankie can become a millionaire I’m off to get a tenner’s worth of lottery tickets . No more mug bets for me .