For the past two weeks, our department has entered the Euro Millions lottery.
For past two weeks, our department has remained open and fully staffed; suggesting zero pounds have been won on the Euro Millions lottery, and there have been no resignations from new millionaires.
Nobody in Europe is yet to win the lottery, either, so it is another rollover. We were debating whether to do another syndicate. To help us decide if we should continue throwing our money down a metaphorical continental drain, I wrote the following poem…
We didn’t win the Euros
We don’t have any luck
I’m not going to play again
Cos I don’t give a monkeys
I’ve just heard there’s a rollover
It may be worth a punt
We don’t want to lose our chance
As I would feel a silly billy
The syndicate organiser decided against emailing this to every member of the department.
1. Buy Euromillions ticket
2. Win Euromillions
3. Buy a corporate box at Elland Road
4. Convert corporate box into a flat, like this…
I received an email yesterday afternoon from Sky Bet. Not being a regular gambler, I would normally mark such correspondence as ‘spam’, deleting it from my inbox. However, in this instance I opened it. Inside was some waffle about a new online game I could play on my iPad. Blah blah blah. I read on. After lots of guff, I was informed I had a free £5 bet to use on this new game. Despite not knowing anything about it, I downloaded the application from the App Store and entered the promotional code for my free bet.
Having launched the application, I stared blankly at the game. It meant nothing to me. All I could see were some cartoons of jungle animals and strange symbols. The only button which looked like it did anything was one labelled ‘spin’. I pressed it. After a few flashes on screen and a roar of a lion, I was told I had won £41.25. Blimey. It felt like I had mugged an old aged pensioner. Considering Rupert Murdoch owns part of Sky, I suppose in a way I did.
Surely making over forty pounds is harder than that? I quickly deposited the money into my bank account. There was, however more of my free bet remaining. Again, I had no idea what to do, so I pressed ‘spin’ again. After another bizarre animal noise and onscreen animation, I was told I had won £14. This time I had taken candy from a baby – £14 worth of candy to be precise. Before the online police could catch me, I moved my latest winnings into my bank, before returning to the game for more money making enjoyment. This was getting fun. Alas, my free bets ran out. I had, however made £55 from Sky.
To celebrate me screwing over Rupert the Bear, I went to Bristol with Simon and John. Simon invited his friend along, who he affectionately refers to as ‘The Yid’. Simon isn’t a racist. He is however a football fan, as is his mate, who supports Tottenham Hotspur. Their fans call themselves ‘The Yids’, so I can only assume that is the reason why Simon has given him this title, although if he is a racist it would explain that Tommy Robinson poster on his bedroom wall.
The first stop was Nandos where I had an adequate meal. Not shit. Not that nice either. Nandos is always good, but my chicken was a bit dry. Simon complained that I took too long eating it. I prefer to chew my food and not devour it whole, like a duck eating bread. The way Simon and John moaned about my speed of consumption, you would have thought I had taken a month to eat my chicken. While I ate my meal, and my friends moaned, the Spurs supporter sat quietly, presumably worrying about the future of Gareth Bale.
We left Nandos shortly after, although Simon and John would tell you that it was hours later, before driving to Showcase cinema. There is a Vue right next to Nandos, but that is overpriced and often overcrowded with smelly Bristolians.
It had already been decided we would go to see The Worlds End. I had no objections, so did what I was told and paid for my ticket. Simon had snuck a couple of bottles of Sheppy’s cider into the cinema. Considering they sell alcohol at the snack bar, I didn’t think there was anything morally wrong with this. It was just that we were getting a far superior drink for a greatly reduced price. Simon and I had two bottles between us, and had drank all but a few drops before the film even started. A stupid advert with David Beckham drinking espresso and wandering around in just his pants is enough to turn anyone to drink.
The film was OK. It had Simon Pegg and his fat mate in it. I forget the fat man’s name. I could look on IMDB for it, but meh. If you’re that interested, and you’re probably not, you can look for yourself… I just remembered… Nick Frost.
I thought the film was going to be primarily about a load of middle-aged men going on a pub crawl, with predictably hilarious results. It started off that way and yes, I found it rather funny. Then things got a bit weird and robots got involved, some sci-fi shit happened and I got bored.
My review of The Worlds End in just five words… “It was not Hot Fuzz.”
On Friday I blogged about the fucking brilliant news that Ken Bates had left Leeds United. This morning I read the hilarious news that he had been sacked. I was lying in bed at the time, reading it on my iPhone. So amused by the story, I nearly wet the bed. According to the report, he was relieved of his “honorary president duties” for ordering himself a private jet costing £500k. Apparently he may now to sue us. Bring it on, I say. Leeds United’s managing director, David Haigh is a trained lawyer. Of course, if the matter can’t be settled in court, there’s always The Jeremy Kyle Show.
The final week of my Christmas/New Year break has been a rather uneventful one.
With no football, thanks to the weather, I spent my Monday in the company of Sky Sports’ Jeff Stelling. I made the afternoon interesting by placing a huge £2.00 (yes, 200 pence) bet on a massive accumulator, which if correct, would have seen me win almost £2,000. Alas my gamble did not come into fruition and I was left two quid out of pocket (slightly untrue though, as I ensured I won £2 by betting on Leeds to win earlier in the day). With all this money wasted on stupid bets, I am starting to worry if I have a gambling problem!
I have spent quite some time this week playing Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. As I have mentioned in the past, I don’t play lots of video games. In fact hardcore gamers like Dan believe I devote all my gaming time to the likes of Fifa. Partly true, although along with Grand Theft Auto, COD is one title I will play all the way through.
Like its predecessor, COD4, from 2 years ago, this is a fantastic war simulator that takes you on a real adventure. Anyone who has seen that show on Sky One with Grant Mitchell in Afghanistan, will notice many similarities in the video game (although there is no fat bald bloke). It is all very scary stuff, although not as frightening as the episode where Grant went to meet those gangs in Liverpool – they were some mean scouse chavs, who wouldn’t think twice about nicking your car stereo or happy slapping you. The episode where he hit Peggy was nasty too. Anyway, I digress…
Not in COD
When not shooting people, I have been working my way through the Benidorm DVD boxset. Somehow I have totally missed the popular ITV sitcom and only discovered it after buying it for my sister as a Christmas present and watching it with her. It is a brilliantly funny comedy and I had no second thoughts in buying myself a copy. However, I am starting to wonder if watching over 9 hours of it in less than 3 days was too much.
This New Years Eve, I should be going out. The plan is to try and get a table in Nandos, with John, before meeting Simon in the Dolphin later in the evening – hopefully before they start charging drinkers to get in!
I bought another Euromillions ticket for tonight’s draw. Nobody won it last week, so the jackpot today is supposed to be around £92million.
If I win, I want to become a member of that Abu Dhabi club who bought Manchester City. They seem to have quite a bit of money.
On this website, you’ll find me blogging (almost) daily about everyday life, living in Bath, working with computers, and the occasional bit of football stuff thrown in.
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