WEEK 8 REPORT

TIPSTERMANIA 18 WEEK 8 REPORT

AFTER EIGHT, MINT!

Preccy presses on

KILL BILL

Dave dies (half) a thousand deaths

MOTHERF*CKER!

Di another day

Picture the scene.  The Wheatsheaf pub, Sutton Leach.   A handful of middle-aged men and an 18 year old lad sit in the bar.  One of the TVs is showing Channel 4 racing, the other, Soccer Saturday.

3:07pm

“Oh f*ck off Coventry!” spits one of the men, a fresh-faced fellow for a man of his advancing years.  He’s already had Chelsea 17/20 win for him in the early kick-off, but feels that all is now lost.

3.11pm

“F*ck off Kilmarnock!  That’s my bet down the sh*tter already”, opines the same hapless chap.  “Don’t be daft, it’s early days yet.  There’s loaaaaads of time to go”, offers the consoling voice of one his oldest and most long-suffering friends.

3.20pm

Brentford 2 Coventry 1.  “See, I told you Brentford 11/20 would turn it around” says the old, bearded friend.

3.36pm

“F*CK OFF WATFORD!!!  I’ve got no f*cking chance this week”, whines our hero.  “Nonsense, it’s still early days yet!” consoles his uncharacteristically optimistic mate.

HALF TIME

Wigan 21/20 have equalized against Watford.  Aberdeen 8/13 have also levelled versus Killie.  Burnley 17/10 are beating Charlton, Man City 1/7 are one up and Brentford are still cruising.

4.20pm

“Get in!”  Wigan take the lead and Burnley extend theirs within minutes of each other.

4.30pm

“GET IN!”  Our man is now riding his seat like a young Tony McCoy as Aberdeen score a decisive second.  “Hey, I’m up in every match now, with just United to come!”. 

4.50pm

Final score.  He’s right, they’ve all won.

The next 40 minutes seemed like an eternity, as we sat waiting for his beloved Man Utd 4/5 to kick off.  None of us knew how much his bet was worth if United obliged, but it felt big. 

5.37pm

“F*CKING GET IN!!!”  Rooney’s wonder-goal sends the now full bar into rapture and our hero into paroxysms of delight.

As you may have guessed by now, the bearded samaritan was your own correspondent and the role of the unfounded pessimist was played to perfection by Mr PAUL “I want City to beat United on Tuesday so that Liverpool don’t win the League” PRESCOTT.   The lousy get added £184.60 to last week’s win and put himself into 2^nd spot in the table and a lovely day was had by all.  Oh no, hang on a minute, that’s not right.  I almost forgot.  For two of us, it was gut-wrenchingly, cock-punchingly ball-bustingly bloody awful.

I’ve met DAVE BILL and he’s a very nice chap.  I’ve also met my Mum and she’s much the same, only female.  God knows what they’ve done to deserve the wretched luck that befell them both this week.  Dave doesn’t seem the sort of bloke to kill black cats and I’m fairly sure that my Mum has never run over a nun.  Unlike my Dad.  Brer Bill’s bet was a proper thinking-man’s effort.  Pick five players who take most of their team’s penalties and/or free kicks and do them as “anytime scorers”.  An inspired move.  Hazard, Baines, Yaya Toure and Rooney all did the honours, some more than once.  Only one man let him down.  His side scored 6, but he couldn’t manage a single one, costing Dave £534.00.  As if all right-thinking people needed any more reason to detest Steven “point my thumbs at the name of the back of my shirt like a spasticated Fonz” Gerrard.  What a MASSIVE C.  As for my Mum, who, of course, is entirely blameless in this farrago, “she” got 7 ½ out of 8 correct, with only Bolton’s draw to blame for losing her £540 and top spot in the table.  I blame that insufferable cock Vernon Kaye.  And Gibbo’s mate, Paddy McGuinness.  And Preccy.

Still, it could be worse.  I could be Arsene Wenger.

Keep smiling

LAW