Sometimes at lunchtimes I pop into the nearest bookies for a few minutes. I hardly ever bet, I just like watching the races and the punters; you see life in a betting shop. This exchange took place today.
Bloke 1: Trap 3, in this next race. Trap 3's gonna win.
Bloke 2: Yeah ?
Bloke 2: Yeah ?
Bloke 1: Trap 3, yeah. Trap3.
Bloke 2: Right. Trap 3. Right. OK.
Bloke 2 fills in betting slip, and heads for counter.
Race comes on. It's a computer animiated one. Trap 3 starts slowly, continues slowly, finishes even more slowly. Possibly makes fifth place.
Bloke 2: [Accusational tone] Well what bloody good was that ?
Bloke 1: Eh ?
Bloke 2: "Trap 3", you said. Came bloody nowhere.
Bloke 1: I didn't mean that race. Not that race. I never bet on them computer ones. Newcastle, I meant. Next race at Newcastle.
Bloke 2: What ?
Bloke 1: Trap 3. Newcastle. Next race.
F*** it. I thought you meant that computer race. Right. Newcastle. Trap 3. Newcastle.
Bloke 2 fills in betting slip, and heads for counter. Race comes on. Trap 3 gets a flyer and runs on like Mick the Miller.
Bloke 2: Bloody hell...Trap 3....trap 3.
Trap 3 crosses the line two lengths clear of the rest.
Bloke 1: [Triumphantly] Told you ! Trap 3 ! Trap 3 !
Bloke 2: Trap 3. Too late...I was too late getting to the counter. They didn't let me bet.
1 comment:
Haha! That's brilliant. You get all sorts in betting shops, it's true.
Maybe you should have put some money on trap 3?
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