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Monday, June 30, 2008 

Lie Back and Think of England

Gary is sunning by the pool, thinking of England and the £28,000 Fernando Torres has just netted him. He has been making this bet on Spain for the last two years, never adding more than £50 at a time, getting odds as high as 17-1 in the early days. So the best steak-house in Vegas has been booked and Gary's buying. Like me this is his third year in the WSOP main event. He has been all-in pre-flop with Aces and called by an internet punk with King-Jack, and then with Kings - a guy called off his whole stack with Queen-Jack with Ace-King-4-2 to hit his 10 on the river, all of which goes to show there's some live ones out there.

The villa is a cracker - the internet duo of Sean and Jake are playing 24 tables between them, while watching Ricky Gervais on Utube. I have internet elbow, which is marginally better than the RSI that struck after May's marathon of online action - much of it fruitless. My most profitable month ever has been the month I played the least - 3 sessions last May netting me the 10K that persuaded me it was a good idea to come play last year's main event. 95% of players lose - don't join them. It is an addictive world which I would recommend to no-one - we live our lives engrossed in The Screen, whether it be the TV, the puter, or the windscreen as we hurtle at 70 mph along concrete. The Off button is your only true friend. Still here in the screen with you there is some creativity emerging....

My plan has changed - rather than play Tuesday's $1500 WSOP event, starting with a paltry 3000 chips and wading through a field of a few thousand, I am heading to the Bellagio deep-stack for a grand tomorrow and again Tuesday - then some head-together before July 4th and the big action. This year the main event will be radically different because of the delayed final table - 9 people will leave the Rio in the early hours of July 15th, all guaranteed a million, all potential winners of ten million, the biggest prize in 'sport' - if shovelling chips can be called a sport.

My numbers are going up, 71 at the last count and a few more come Monday morning as the inbox beckons the uninitiated. Apparently I have readers in France, the Philippines, Switzerland and South Africa, as well as some random accidents in Bulgaria, Finland and Germany - who are you and why are you here? Welcome anyway, thanks for your support and Chris I will make it to Hawaii one day soon....oh and if anyone likes my website, my most loyal reader Dees is a genius and will do you a cracking job - the brown bottle was Coors light by the way, and no Gary won't be lending you his hard-earned reddies any time soon, though he may yet be in the market for a website, once he makes that Final Table. Here's to Mr. Torres and some disconsolate Germans....Schadenfreude is a beautiful word

12:44 AM | Permalink |

Sunday, June 29, 2008 

No news aint good news today

Alas Jem, I didn't post yesterday because I was pretty fucked off - the curse of the pocket Jacks. I was chip leader for two hands - my first two hands were Ace-King, followed by two Queens: I raise them both, but alas no action. Big hands early are somewhat akin to a convict in a whore-house....satisfyingly sweet for a second, but desperately short-lived....yes Evil Dennis's mind is a-wandering. I busted out after calling a raise with two black Jacks and finding a flop of 8-4-3. The aggressive Scandy fires a bet, I put him all-in, and he considers himself pot-committed - he had loads of chips and I hadn't won a pot, so was short-stacked and he calls with his blackjack hand - Ace-King and spikes his Ace on the river. I was heading to the door and a return to Planet Hollywood to reload the memory shelf with an $80 tourney. I made it to the final two tables out of 120 runners and pushed all-in with ....yes, you guessed it pocket Jacks. The blinds were 2000-4000, I had 17,000 chips so had no choice. I run into pocket Kings with a 9000 stack, and my final 8000 goes in on the next hand under the gun with Ace-nine of clubs, beaten by King-Jack when he hits. Still I played well. We are now hours from the Euro final kick-off - Gary has £28,000 riding on a Spanish win, so there could be some fun tonight.....Evil Dennis has some deviant agenda that may yet come to fruition. I'll be back in on Tuesday for another WSOP event and then the big one, which is looking like it might attract a record field - 10,000 runners or so. I did come home and play an online multi-player tournament, just to prove to myself I can still play this game and took down first place out of a field of 150. So the day ended with a smile. Thanks for your comments - thanks Tommy - more prayers to the poker gods needed - maybe I jinxed myself with those words "Unlucky for some". Three weeks ago I received a drunken warning from Monkey, fresh in from LA to say goodbye to our dear friend Gervase, "beware the pocket Jacks" - which has been haunting me ever since. I keep picking them up, they keep fucking me up.

7:13 PM | Permalink |

Saturday, June 28, 2008 

Table 13 - Unlucky for Some

I'll be seated at table 13, my lucky number - born on the 13th and all that. I won't bore you now with my spiel on the number 13th - needless to say it is powerful. Our calendar is in reality split into 13 sections, not this absurdity of twelve months - ever checked out the moon? exactly 13 each year. Seat 6 means I'm in the middle which also suits. Stu is also having a crack today. Sean busted out at the Venetian when his Kings got beat by a 5-outer.
Thanks for your comments - Jas you keep me laughing along. Strongroom James, good to have you on board. Jem watch out for the Shahghai surprise. The stats are rising, the hoodie is bought. I have my positive quote of the day from - Jean de la Fontaine
"Man is so made that whenever anything fires his soul, impossibilities vanish."
I will see you all later with maybe a photo of me plus hoodie.
A last word from my son Max - I rang him up yesterday: his first question "Are you chip leader?" .....

5:22 PM | Permalink |

Friday, June 27, 2008 

Ten Large - One Stack of High Society

Click on the photo for the big money.

Hello to all those just joining me - I have just emailed you all, and no Jas I don't think you are the only reader - I now have the capacity to analyse my readership, and there are bewteen 25 and 50 looking at the blog regularly. This I hope will go up now that another 1000 or so people are on the list. If you like it please pass it on - my insurance for this after all is the nebulous promise of a book-deal. This would naturally be enhanced by any success my end. I have a photo for you know - welcome to my world. A word from my old mucker Mr. Bull, my oldest buddy who accompanied me on my first challenge for the Big One: "Only a nutter would give up smokes when on an important & expensive & stressful trip. Go buy a hoodie & a carton of camels & go win some cards." Thank you for those wise words - as you can see I have become the Marlboro Man. Who needs a camel in an oasis like this?

11:33 PM | Permalink |

Venetian Blinds

Three of us played at the Venetian. Sean, fresh from a long-haul from New Zealand is among the last 22 playing to the end and hopefully $50K tomorrow, currently with a healthy stack of 500,000 chips. Stu and I didn't do well. I had some big hands very early, when the payoffs are small and nothing later on - never saw a pair higher than Jacks and my Ace-Kings never got any action except the ugly sort at the death. I was nailed somewhat by the huge antes and also by a KQ when my AK got outdrawn by a Queen. The WSOP events have an easier structure and much longer levels - I will be there on Saturday to play $1500 No-Limit Holdem. I am thinking of investing in a hoodie to keep my poker-face as inscrutable as possible.

I made some dollars back playing cash - so the trip is still in profit on the poker. Mr. Bull whom some of you may remember from 2006 has called me a muppet for trying to give up the fags - I think he's probably right. Not sure what tomorrow holds...possibly the hoodie, probably some poker, and maybe a little trip to the mountains, 40 minutes out of Vegas. This town is mental - far too much stimulus. Oh and there was the drunk guy at the cash table - he goes all-in for $200, turning his cards over K-5 with a K-Q-10-7-4 board, David Blane looks down at his K-J and makes the call. I offer Drunk Guy a cigarette. Evil Dennis calls him a fucking loser - he's probably right - now there's a muppet, Mr. Bull.

11:18 AM | Permalink |

Thursday, June 26, 2008 

Thirteen Hours Later

What a sleep that was - sheer heaven, seven through til eight. The house is now full of poker players: Gary from Jersey, Stu from England, Jake from Texas, and now Sean from New Zealand. I am heading out now to invest $300 of yesterday's $400 profit in a big 500+ player tournament at The Venetian - maybe Fat Elvis will be playing. It could be thirteen more hours of people watching - here's hoping. I hear England is enjoying a heat-wave - Vegas is cooler at 91 degrees...oh and no smokes yet - feeling great with that one......

7:25 PM | Permalink |

Wednesday, June 25, 2008 

Karaoke Poker

I have just got in from a momentous marathon of poker, much amusement and another 20 exhausted camels - I think I have to pay my propers to the oasis theory. I may be about to have my last cigarette and my first swim. Last year the 24-hour poker marathon took place after I busted out in the wonderful Sahara - this year I thought I'd get stuck in early. The venue was Planet Hollywood, thanks really to Matt and Clare, who treated me to two cracking meals and my first experience of Pai-Gow - little bit addictive that one (another for the list) but I did bank some profit having been down to our collective last go. The three of us played our additional profit to the inevitable conclusion, then the two of them headed to bed, while the one of me headed back to the poker tables at around 1 a.m. The prospect of writing the blog after the afternoon's poker disaster was not a good one. It had not gone well for the first 12 hours - a loss online as I woke up (you fucking loser as Evil Dennis so charmingly puts it), followed by $500 gone at the $1-$2 table with a bunch of amateurs, calling chunky raises with 9-3 and 6-5 then hitting trips. Then a further $180 at the $2-$5 table - the eternal wisdom of upping the ante when you're down. Hardly a card to speak of except the occasional big pair each time beaten by pocket aces, utterly disguised by sheer incompetent betting, and yes I made some mistakes too, pushing for wins with meagre resources. First live poker etc etc... more excuses available on demand.

So arriving back at the $1-$2 table, I discovered the Tattooed maniac from Tasmania, who was betting increasingly large amounts blind, followed up by an all-in raise on the flop, again still blind. Anyway I watch and wait, delighted that he keeps winning, despairing that someone else will take him out first. They have no idea how to deal with the Tasmaniac. I however do. The key is to get him heads-up for his whole stack or at least with very few other punters with a half-decent hand, but not to get beaten by the others in the pot who have actually looked at their cards. One guy tried taking him out with two threes, making his odds of winning 50-50 at best - he lost his entire stack and any sense of enjoyment...."the injustice of it". NOT, Evil Dennis retorts with the customary "you fucking loser". Soon an off-colour Kojak pulls out his lollipop, which translates to me picking up King-Jack off suit, almost certainly better than the maniac's random hand, but pretty dodgy if everyone wants to have a crack at him. So I call two bucks, the others fold, the maniac bets $100 (he's won a few of these crapshoots luckily, so is still in the game and upping his ante, while hastening his inevitable exit - this will most likely be the last opportunity as seven-deuce can't keep winning). He has two hundred bucks, as indeed do I. Jolly punter with not too much idea calls a hesitant $100, and I make the somewhat dubious decision to call. I know I'm probably ahead of Tasmaniac, with any two random cards, but will my K-J beat the Jolly Wally? So the flop comes 8-7-5, which suits my hand not all, and we check to the Tattoos who makes the expected all-in bet, another hundred bucks. Wally thinks a bit and calls which leaves me looking decidedly second best. Jolly is in fact very jolly and definitely drunk (as am I a little after a beer and wine chaser over dinner) and instead of wanting to get one-on-one with Tattoo dude, he begs me to call too - "I'm on holiday let's have some fun". Anyway I'm getting 5 to 1 on my money, so I agree with him that I am on holiday and shovel my money in with gay abandon. Because it's a cash game no cards are turned over, so I wait with baited breath for something nice to happen, like a King or Jack riding over the horizon. But they don't, (probably cos they are both at a strip-club with the queen - this is Vegas remember). A ten pops up first making Jolly even jollier (he does have one of these and can't resist flashing his friend), followed by a delicious nine, giving me the back-door straight, a $600 pot and a deal of credibility as the man who sent Captain Tattoo meandering back onto the strip for his next unholy alliance. He had 4-2 off-suit "LOL" but left happy nonetheless. However he was upsetting the natives by beating their big Ace hands with his twos and threes, and needed to be dealt with. Normality is restored,(nine people betting two dollars to see a flop) albeit with some envious eyes from across the felt "You're the man", they say. Yes, I agree that I am indeed the man and proceed to fleece these unwitting, intoxicated darlings for swathes of their cash, with a great smile and some gentle banter - these people expect to lose, the key is to make it fun. A privelege in fact, a cheap lesson I would say. And they'll be back for the next 365 days, different faces, same differences. Those hours from 11 til 2 are like happy hour for the cash-hungry and I was somewhat starving after all. Well it was fun for all of us I think. So I cash in a modest $400 of profit and try my hand at some tournament poker as a late entry, which will then punctuate my departure as it can get very hard to leave a juicy cash game.

I make a brief foray into the 2 a.m tournament for a short sharp $60, expecting to return home once it's done. Well that obviously didn't happen and I sat down again in the $1-$2 game (partly because the sexy, dark, dusky dealer Mimi had finished her shift and was now playing), alas with big Afr-Am boyfriend by her side although I did take all his cash when we both hit the flush - mine the nut flush, his 7-high - sent them packing I did, with a smile my way from Mimi too - might be back there later). Anyway I proceeded to hit some big cards for the next 9 hours, staying for a long while around the $400 mark (having bought in for my statutory $200), briefly touching $500, almost down to $300, before a couple of monsters, one of which is still irking me.....

.......I had 10-7 of diamonds in first position and made it $4 (I had forgotten to straddle - betting $4 'blind') to go with a lot of talk about the pocket Aces I was representing. This gets a few laughs and a lot of callers, but crucially no raisers - a good way of controlling the pot against less-experienced players (the guy to my left didn't raise it up with his two Queens - major error). So when the flop comes 10-7-5 with two clubs, giving me a huge 2 pair, I bet a modest $12, (just under half the pot) tempting a raise, which was duly forthcoming by Drunken Jake, fresh from North Hollywood, in fact not fresh at all, but great value as he took down three casino jackpots for hitting quads thrice in thirty minutes. So Jake, 'Neighbour to the Beckhams' as the English contingent from Carlisle had coined him, pumps it up to $30 with his Queens, called by Flush-draw Freddy with his two clubs. This comes back to me and I add in a further $100 just to keep it lively, and to price out the draws. This is called by Double-Queen Dude and also after some muttering about value by Flushing Freddy. Freddy has $30 left and Duo-Queen has a further $150, leaving me concerned. So I ask for the 10 of hearts, which duly arrives as the fourth card, "the turn" on the board, and I make the massive mistake of checking my full house. If I bet $50- $80 bucks they will very likely call (given the pot is four hundred big), and then Duo-Queen will be unable to resist the pot-odds for the final all-in bet. So we all check the turn and the river is another five but not a club (so Flushing Freddy can no longer be parted from his final $30). I get a little greedy and bet $160 which Drunken Jay - his actual name - considers for many a moon before deciding to keep his cash. I had the stone-cold nuts on the turn and only a Queen would have spelt disaster (another reason to bet as I gave him a free card to beat me), but by waiting til all the cards were down I lost my chance. The upside is no-one saw my hand and of course I didn't show, but when quizzed I claimed to have had a busted flush with Ace and a little club, buying me no end of kudos as I had won the pot supposedly with a massive bluff. So I live and learn - poker is not about winning the pot it is about winning all of their money when you win the pot. Still I did get $250, a crucial lesson in maximisation, and oodles of 'cred', which I put to fine use on the next hand (not so long this one I promise - short, sharp and simple)......

.......I am now in the big blind with A-4 of hearts and the pot is straddled (effectively a third blind, double the size of the big blind, so $4) then raised and finally arrives at Flushing Freddy who goes all-in pre-flop for his last meagre $30, leaving me and the skinny Scandinavian to contest a side-pot or just check it down and see who beats Flimsy Freddy. Well I'm having none of this checking down business as the flop comes J-8-3 with two hearts. First to bet, I fire in $140 (forcing Skinny to bet his entire stack) with my nut-flush draw leaving Skinny with a dilemma as he has Ace-Jack and correctly reasons I can't have him beat as I wouldn't possibly have bet so big (If I had a very strong hand like trip 8s or trip 3s I would have suckered him in slowly and with a big pair like Kings or Queens I would have re-raised pre-flop). So he makes a correct call as he is a marginal favourite against me hitting a fifth heart, but he hasn't reckoned with 'the force' - much more powerful when focused under the influence of drink, cigarettes and sleep-deprivation (this last one especially so) and my Queen of Hearts arrives without any further delay on the turn. Another big pot with a ton more kudos for my sheer naked aggression (the joy of having a deep stack of chips is you can take on the world with reckless relish).....or you can just do it regardless....works for me, although Evil Dennis is muttering his customary riposte...reminding me of 2006, 2007...

....The third big one was against the Skilful Swede (quite a big player, although fuck knows what he was doing at the $1-$2 game, although to-be-fair it was clearly the most fun game in Vegas. In fact Phil Ivey (the world's finest poker-player without too much argument) was playing craps in Planet Hollywood last night and took away a cool $400,000 just to put things in perspective. So the Skilful Swede raises to $10 bucks, and I wake up with two Kings in the small blind and make it $30 to go, which he duly accepts, as Carlisle Dave (whose Embassy Regals I'm now blagging) bales out of the kitchen - he can't stand the heat, as he only likes pedalling the nuts. The flop arrives J-10-5 with two clubs, and I bet $55 which is then re-raised by the scary Swede all-in, leaving me wondering whether he has three-of-a kind. My initial instinct is to play safe as I am now in profit for the day, and it has been hard work, with many beers and cigarettes consumed. Then I start chatting to the young Scandy lad, and ask him what he's got and whether he'll show me his hand if I fold - he says he won't. So then i ask him what he thinks I've got and he says definitely not Aces, probably not Kings as I wouldn't hesitate so probably Queens. All of this chat is leading me to an instinct that he is probably on a flush draw or maybe he has two Queens himself, and besides my King of Clubs gives me back-door potential (two running clubs, provided he doesn't have the Ace) - so I call his $200 re-raise with a degree of conviction. It is a great moment in poker when you take many minutes to make a huge decision and then say those immortal words "I call you" - most people are expecting the fold at this point. When all the cards are dealt I ask him what he has (as the cards have not been turned up). To my relief he says a pair, which cannot beat me unless he has Ace-Ace, most unlikely. His pair is in fact two Fives - he had 5-4 of Clubs, a good bet as he would have one if one club comes or another four or five. In addition I might have folded - anyway the club never arrived, nor another five or four, and he good-naturedly shipped his $300 buy-in my way, a mere 10 minutes after it came his way. A new friendship and respect is formed and I suggest to him, "the pro" that he talks too much as he suggests to me, the big stack to give him three hundred chips back in exchange for three crisp C notes, freshly liberated from his wallet. I duly oblige - my stack is now over $800 big, chips and bills overflowing into my beer holder. My kudos and confidence is now proportionate to my lack of sleep and I leave happy, wired and slightly determined to quit the Camel Filters in the morning. Well it is now one in the afternoon (two now after the read-through) and I haven't yet been to sleep but am feeling great and rather like a final cigarette or two (I will have to resort to pinching more of Tight Gary's here at the villa - tight because of his poker, rather than any Scottish tendencies or gay shrinkage.

So that's it for now and I still haven't told you about Karaoke poker - Planet Hollywood's lively Karaoke bar is right next to the poker-room. Imagine a 90-year old wrinkle-cap with ruck-sack still adorned singing Staying Alive a few tones too deep, but with a few vital hand-movements and the whole casino bent-double with laughter.... gotta go back, but then there's also Fat Elvis at the Venetian, so big he can't stand up off his stool. So many options here in fabulous Vegas and right now sleep ain't one of them. There will be more soon...first bracelet event Friday probably failing that Saturday definitely...... a swim and a smoke and some lovely sleep, but then again Germany are taking on Brazil about now. Maybe I'll just sail through.....

7:54 PM | Permalink |

Tuesday, June 24, 2008 

Hot off the Press

Today's Telegraph back home courtesy of Charlie Brooks

"Conversations at Ascot regularly stray from horses. My favourite last week was the two 'faces of the turf' who've sponsored somebody to the tune of $15,000 to play in the World Poker championships. Why? Because he beat them in a pub game and as they quite fancy themselves as players they thought 'well if he can beat us he must be worth a shot.' Sadly their names cannot be revealed as only one of their wives knows what they have done."

Meanwhile back in Vegas, Jungle Jake is playing commando poker - nine tables at the last count. I'm still riding my camel (just one leftnow) up West Sahara and toying with tomorrow's $1500 pot-limit Omaha eight-or-better High-Lo Split - yeah it could get complex. I won't explain rest assured. I have the camera so photos will be forthcoming. Thanks Jas for your comment.

3:48 AM | Permalink |

Monday, June 23, 2008 

The Villa of Joy

I've made it to Vegas after a trip and a half - thanks to Bobby W for quite a party, thanks to John, Vivi and Papoula Petit for the lift and the one to the airport too. Thank you to all you 7 a.m party-goers who pledged your support - I trust your Sunday didn't involve 5000 miles, but if you smiled half as much as I did then the world must surely be a better place. After heads down at Heathrow, I arrived at LAX expecting some heads-up with Bobby Tran. Arriving on flight 007 feeling like Bond, license renewed, aided by some insta-sleep and the special meal (you always get served first - and the Asian Vegetarian option is the closest you'll come to food at 30,000 feet). A beautiful blond asleep on my shoulder (I made that up, she was smiling across the aisle) and some movie magic on the plane..... I read "Into The Wild" some years ago and the film too was sheer perfection, impeccably timed, as this adventurer heads in search of his American dream - I smiled again when I saw the name of the plane - "Sweet Dreamer". Smiling became laughing when another road-movie, Dave Gorman's "America Unchained" put the icing on the cake, with mine wearing thin - the road less travelled has always had its place in my heart. This road began randomly on Friday as I started my day showering in Bath, via banks in Bristol with Feng Stuey and family - thanks for the cap my friend. After collecting more cash in the Cotswolds, I headed to Stonehenge for a spontaneous solstice, along with 30,000 others for a night of pagan power. Amid stoney white-wine wetness and camper-van carnage with my new buddie Nick, I was soon back in the megalithic zone all of which soon left me in a state in the car-park in my own estate my metal tent, my beloved Renault (having failed to put the seats down) - a diagonal disaster with me left holding the nuts as my crotch made friends with the hand-brake.

A word about Bobby Wad and his role in the Vegas experience - three years ago Big Al was flying to Las Vegas (his favourite trick is flying high over the Luxor light as it pierces the heavens and his cock-pit eight miles up). Knowing my desires he took me as his companion, which coincided with the start of the World Series.... so a plan was hatched to play in it, but I couldn't get the money out in time. Never one to let such trifles get in my way, I approached 'Wodge' (named for his belly not his bank-roll) and twenty minutes later Rob's account was 10K lighter as were my spirits and any sense of financial responsibility. I arrived in Vegas on 7/7 to bombs in blighty, just in time in one sense given the security crack-down, just out of time in that entries for the Main Event had closed....probably just as well. I ended up playing not one hand of poker in my three-day trip, barring the dollar on the way out in the Video slots (I won one dollar back for the record which left me feeling good Billy Ray - who she you may well ask? More Mortimer and Montague than Mistress Quickly) The trip was most memorable until the vodka at Pure - my round of drinks cost me $180 and my sanity. Al had started the day by taking me along with thirteen virgin air-hostesses to Lake Mead for some water-sports. He hand-picked the four finest for my speed-boat, bare-breasted beauties, virgins no more. He ended the day by getting us all into Vegas's most exclusive nightclub on the pretext that we were actors from Hollyoaks, that and the statutory bank-note. Sunday with sunstroke saw us at the Hard-Rock pool-party with some fun-loving criminals from Miami - more grievous bodily harm. So my first trip to the World-Series, my third to Vegas left me feeling distinctly second-best, but I'm back for the fourth year running and my sixth sense tells me I'm in the right place, even if only it is to tell you why. So thank you Rob - you sent me off in style, then and now.

So from Bobby W to Bobby T, my buddy from LA (a fellow-poker player, who has a great habit of standing up and saying "Bobby Tran" when he takes down a big pot.) We had agreed to meet up Sunday night, and in need of a gentle touch down, I tried his phone for many an hour as I cruised Sunset Boulevard via Mulholland drive and some freeway frenzy. It was not to be as Bobby had got involved in a $3 rebuy on Full-Tilt - poker priorities are refreshingly simple. Still, after eleven hours in the Branson strait-jacket, what better antidote than to spend the next nine behind the wheel of a car - although I did manage to dip my toes in the Pacific, my tribute to Dave Gorman - his film captures everything that is glorious about America, the warm-hearted people, the stunning backdrops, the wonder of the road ahead..... so I hit the freeway with twenty camels for my sprint across the desert to arrive in this oasis, the villa of joy in Eldorado avenue situated by Rainbow and Sahara. So what lies ahead you may ask, somwhere under that rainbow lies a pot of gold, somewhere over it lies a dream and in between the two there will be a return to the mountains, a return to Sedona and a return to the tables. Twice bitten, once shy.....this is my third attempt and I promise you nothing, except that I will write and play my heart out. I am bank-rolling half of it myself with the other half from a variety of vicarious gamblers. Many, many thanks to you - Ricky the Roofer you set this year's dream alive: when you pledged your support the low-roller started to gather some moss. Nick and Rupert, well what can I say - I hope to do you proud, and I've not even met you yet Rupert, although I have met your four-figure envelope. My dad, Peter, amazing man that you are has ponied up - eight ponies to be precise as well as agreeing to teach my final bridge class to the ladies of Gloucester. Thanks to you and Mum for looking after Max in my absence - it will relieve the pressure on Grace - last year's 10K loss was one of many nails in our coffin and this year's foray ain't mending any bridges I can tell you. Still I have sweetened the pill with the assurance of my backers, but the reality could once again resemble the rake's progress - "If the cards don't get you, the rake will". So thank you to my backers, not forgetting my aged Aunt Alice, a great Aunt in fact, fighting fit at 89, still teaching bridge to the burghers of Tavistock, still solving the world's most complex crossword puzzle every week, and still prepared to be sweet-talked out of £20. Thanks to Paul for the villa of joy, and Martin and Matt whose shirts I will be donning - the man-in-black will be walking that fine line in your name. So enough for now, early indications are positive. Arriving last night, I met Jake, a quiet American (If he isn't he wakes up light-sleeping Stu) with a penchant for poker. Jake was playing online and so out came the laptop, in went the cups of tea, in and out of the shower came I.... only to lose an early $400. Undaunted by fifty-seven hours in transit I doubled the number of match-sticks keeping those wild-eyes wide and played four more hours to finish $500 in profit, nailing some suckers. So there's $3360 in the online account, $6700 under the mattress, and another $4300 bulging in my pockets - not a gun but I am pleased to see you, which brings me to Miss Emily, the live-in help....no,no,no, stay focused dude. I will leave that one to Evil Dennis, my other new-found friend....more on him later. For now my camels are on their last legs, my health kick is one day away from procrastination, and the swimming pool looks very inviting. Evil Dennis is thinking of inviting Emily in but I must go shopping - a camera for your entertainment, a visit to Whole foods for my sustainment (I'm in America, I'm obliged to make words up) and then some live-action, not the rhino, not Miss Emily, but green felt, pocket rockets and some suckers. Here's hoping, here's to Vegas, here's to glorious unashamed gambling.

8:34 PM | Permalink |

Tuesday, June 10, 2008 

Back To Base Dot Com .........

The bank-roll has been built then unbuilt under scrutiny of trackers, and rebuilt a little, now rakeback and backers and the ticket's been bought so Sunday soon I'll be flying into Los Angeles, bringing in a couple of £Ks to meet Mike Manyana and pick up the in-my-dreams convertible. Pump up the tyres for some Monday morning mayhem in the Mojave via breakfast in Barstow and head East for Tuesday's Hi-Lo event. A return to the Rio, a return to the mountains and a return on our money? just maybe. Martin and Matt have guaranteed any shortfall for the main event cometh the hour. Many thanks Martin and base.com - I will see you on the 23rd in Vegas...check out Base.com Click Here

11:42 PM | Permalink |