[dropcap]O[/dropcap]ne piece of advice, for any aspiring bookmaker, is that as soon as they hear the words uttered, from a Punter; “I swear on my children’s/mother’s lives” – it is almost certain to not be true.
Two examples from Towcester Dogs last night:
Attempted Liberty Taken No 1: (UNSUCCESSFUL)
“Lay me 100/1, this dog you’re 80/1, because you knocked me back on an ante-post bet”
“Not true. Nobody has been knocked back, at all, on the ante-post dog-derby.”
“You did. You did. I called your office. They knocked me back. I swear on my children’s lives. So lay me 100/1 this one.”
“No. Not true. Nobody has been knocked back on the dog-derby.”
“You did. I swear on my children’s lives.”
“You weren’t knocked back. I don’t believe this in any way. It is not true.”
“I was. I called your office and asked for a grand each-way on a dog. It was 50s and 33s. But you only quoted the 33s.”
“So you weren’t knocked back. You were just quoted a price you didn’t want.”
“Err. Well, anyway. Will you lay me 100/1 this 80/1 shot?”
“No. We’re 80s. And by the way, are your children still alive after swearing on their lives?”
Attempted Liberty Taken No 2: (SUCCESSFUL)
Very busy round the pitch. A few big bets coming in on the Favourite and 2nd Favourite in a race.
An annoyance. Always looks to get round me asking silly questions etc etc. Comes in..
“Two grand the four-dog, cash after the race.”
(I didn’t want this. I DIDN’T WANT THIS. Why cash after?? But it’s getting very busy around me. The guy’s played before at The Dogs and The Races. Never “cash-after” though. Never.)
Anyway, in the moment. It’s busy. I’ve accepted he’ll pay “cash-after” .
I FELL, BLOG. I DID IT TO MYSELF. I TRUSTED AND BELIEVED THE SOUNDS THAT CAME OUT OF THE FRONT OF A PUNTER’S FACE.
A quarter of an hour later – I’m feeling a bit nervous. I think I know what I’ve done. Only stabbing myself could take away the pain of what I know is to come.
Two races pass. He comes over.
“Don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten about you. I’m bringing that two grand over in a minute.”
15 minutes later. It’s obvious that it’s on me. So I’ve gone to the bar.
“The two grand. I want it now.”
“I’m getting it for you in a minute. I’ve never knocked anybody. I swear on my mother’s life I’ll give you the two grand.”
I spend the whole evening chasing the guy round the track, being forced to listen to Punter Stories. The police are called. They won’t come out. (THANKS FOR ALWAYS HAVING TIME TO GIVE ME THREE POINTS FOR SPEEDING THOUGH).
The Gambing Commission. The Government. Any other type of Punter-Sympathiser. They all disgust me. They have never had to deal with such creatures.
NEVER FEEL SORRY FOR A PUNTER.
Over and out, B x