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The Most Pathetic Gambling Story You Will Ever Hear

The Most Pathetic Gambling Story You Will Ever Hear

Casinos aren't built on winners.

Josh Teal

Josh Teal

Okay fellas, so it's a Monday night and I'm having a post-work pint with some mates. The place is alright. We're only there cause it does a two-beer-and-free-pizza deal.

Once the food and beer is gone, it gets busier. There's a band setting up for the night. It's a jazz band, and none of us want to stick around for that.

At this point it's dwindled down to just me and two lads called Parker and Paddy. I go over to a plate on the table and hover my finger over it, circling and saying 'ratatatatatata.' They go, 'you wanting more pizza?' I say 'No, lads. Roulette.'

'Oh God, no chance.' He says. But I know he's going to surrender to the offer. I talk to Parker. Parker chats shit about his bad gambling history, and frankly I don't care about him or his demons. It takes about one more minute to not just convince them both, but to get them excited about risking their recently paid wages in a Manchester casino.

That's the thing about roulette. You could lose it all in one, or the exact opposite could happen.

"We go in with twenty,' I say. 'Deal? 50-up and we walk.'

The two both agree that great potential losses are better than sitting around watching white guys with curly hair play piano.

So we walk down to the casino. I'm thinking to myself 'This is such a good idea. We're gonna smash it.' Then as I'm walking down onto the floor I hear the cluttering of dead chips being poured into the pit of debt and I temporarily freak out and go for a nervous shit.

I meet them back at the bar and we look amateur, as per. I don't try to hide it, though. I order a pint of fucking Boddington's. The other two get lager.

Paddy jumps straight in cause he's fearless and loses everything. I'm about £40 up pretty quickly. At one point I put £15 on red and it lands. The dealer swipes it away with the rest. 'Wow. Excuse me. I just got red.' She's like 'What?' I say 'You just took away my money.' She alerts a croupier and he sorts it out.

Paddy goes and gets £50 and puts it all on black and loses again. 'Paddy please,' Parker says. 'No more. Go home.'

Paddy agrees but he doesn't go home because, eventually, he's going to win. And he does. Him and Parker take their decent returns from the table and move to another and keep winning. When Paddy comes back to my table, he's throwing down £25 chips like nobody's business while I'm there empty-palmed.

'I had it all Parker. I had it all and lost it.' I say

Parker suggests we go for a cig. I'm out there, fiddling with the tenner I've got left, which I decide to go back in and play.

Within five minutes I'm up £60 on roulette, looking at my chips probably more fondly than I do my newborn niece. 'I'm back, Parker. I'm fucking back.'

Parker's doing alright. He's sensible. Keeps the £20 he came in with, and won back, in his pocket and has fun with the rest. I'm pretty sure at one point he puts about £75 on black and wins. 'Fuck this. I'm cashing in.' he says, but he doesn't, cause there's a chance he could win twice as much as he already has. Would you pass up that opportunity? Like fuck. He loses the money.

I eventually lose my money, meet back up with the other two and we call it a night. While having a piss, I hear Parker say 'One more tenner?' and I say 'Yeah, go on then,' while shaking out the last few drops.

It is now 8:45 pm on a Monday.

So I put a tenner on 1-18 on roulette and within five minutes I'm back at around £70. 'I knew I'd get it back,' I say to them both. Paddy has at this point lost £200. 'I've got to go home. I really have.' He walks out.

Around five minutes later, as me and Parker are tearing up the table, Paddy leans over and pops a £20 on black. Does he win? Reclaim his dignity as well as a bit of money? No, of course he doesn't. He leaves for real this time.

Following suit, I lose that £70 almost as quick as I make it. We call it quits for the second time.

Outside, smoking a very depressing cig, I lament my poor decision making. 'It happens, mate.' Parker says. 'You'll come back next time and win shit loads. It's just one of those nights.'

It's not exactly a successful consolation but it's better than him just rubbing his money in my face. It's only as I'm extinguishing my cig and adjusting my coat that Parker says 'You know what, I wouldn't judge you at all if you went in there and threw another tenner on.'

At first I'm sorta disgusted. But then I think about the 50/50 chance of winning money. No person threw in the towel at this point? Especially when dealing with small bets and good odds? I think of the Jobs', The Gates', The pioneers, the thinkers, the Bilzerians'; the men who took incredible chances on brilliant, life-changing ideas - and I use them as justification to stick a tenner on black after spending the previous three hours losing fairly small amounts of cash and taking a shit.

I go back in, this time a lone wolf.

I head straight to the table and throw ten on even. It lands. I throw everything on even again. It lands. And then again. I should cash in and leave. Make Parker proud. But I don't. I get cocky and lose it all again.

As I walk out, even the bouncer asks me how I did.

The sliding door closes before I can respond. As I walk home, I briefly catch the gaze of passersby. If they knew what secret I held, they probably wouldn't think much of it. People have lost more at far higher stakes.

But when you break down the component parts, it changes. The free pizza, the jazz, shitting because of nerves, going in with ten and being 60 in the hole after three hours, it being Monday. It's pretty bleak.

In fact, it's fucking pathetic.

If you're a bit of a fair-weather wasteman and you regularly piss away a day's wages in casinos, head to Gamble Aware.

Words by Josh Teal

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