A day in the life of a betfair punter (repost)

(repost as it was on chit chat)



frasier 23 Dec 20:30


The first time I logged onto the Betfair forum was just over three years ago. At the time it seemed like a perfectly innocent thing to do, after all, what possible harm could come from exchanging a few pleasantries with my fellow horse racing enthusiasts? Or opening up a thread and being able to discover in an instant what everybody?s top 10 favourite breakfast cereals were? No harm whatsoever as far as I could see. Yet here I am today sitting naked at my computer. Bald and 76lbs overweight. Anti-depressants in one hand, mouse in the other, Frantically clicking the refresh button to see if anyone has replied to this thread. My children are threatening to report me to Childline, after they discovered that due to my ever-increasing gambling debts, they would once again be enjoying a make believe Christmas this year. My wife has just walked out on me after forcing me to choose between her and the forum, and I have to ask myself, maybe it wasn?t so harmless after all?

It was only two days after joining Betfair that I first clicked on the link. I remember it was a Saturday afternoon. I had just watched the first 6 races of the day and there was a 45-minute gap until the next start. So with nothing else better to do, apart from listen to the inane, squeaky voiced ramblings of Willie Carson as he walked up and down the course with his big pointy stick. I thought to my self, why not?

As far as I could tell, by simply entering the forum, I had accidentally stumbled upon the secret meeting place of the most knowledgeable horse racing experts in Britain. A place where professional gamblers, tipsters and blacksmiths, would gather together to exchange genuine insider information, and threaten to beat each other up. Every other thread appeared to be a gateway to riches. With confident declarations of ?WHEELBARROW JOB? and ?LUMP ON THIS?, I knew I had made the discovery of a lifetime. No more would I spend my days trying to decipher a formbook that may as well have been written in Braille, no more would I spend my days lost in the gambling wilderness. The Betfair forum had become my Tom Tom. At last, I was finally on the road to success.

The very first thread I read that afternoon was entitled ?MAXIMUM 5 STAR BET OF THE DAY?. Apparently, according to the writers? information. The horse had been burning up the gallops at home, and even though it was badly handicapped, the jockey was a woman! The poster was still absolutely convinced the horse would walk it. The poster was right. As soon as the stalls opened, the rest of the field sprinted down the straight as though being pursued by a polish butcher with a meat cleaver. While the horse I had backed, popped on his sunglasses, tilted his headgear to a racy angle, and proceeded to stroll casually for home without a care in the world. Even stopping occasionally to neigh at the crowd, before eventually trailing in a well beaten last.

It was at this point, as I wiped away the remains of the half eaten pot noodle I had just hurled at my laptop, that I made my second discovery of the afternoon. In the time it had taken the losing owner and trainer to go and collect their winnings, a total of 14 threads had suddenly appeared on the forum, declaring the startling news that ITS ALL**!!!? Now while I had always suspected that the sport of kings wasn?t entirely honest. To suddenly discover it was less straight than George Michael, taking a midnight stroll on the common, came as something of a shock.
However it was already too late. The next race was about to begin and a further 8 separate tips had already been posted. A quick look at Tim UK`s how much have you won, thread. Confirmed my belief that the pockets of every other forumite were literally bursting at the seams. Therefore I knew, that the only way to recover my losses was to deposit more funds and let the chase begin.

I was wrong! By the end of the day I had backed and layed a total of 98 horses and completely done my knackers!
I will never forget the feeling of staring breathlessly into space; body bathed in sweat, overwhelmed with a sense of guilt, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it pulsing in my ears. It was a feeling I had experienced many times before. Only this time, it wasn?t because I had just spent the afternoon downloading midget porn.

So the journey had begun. Day after day, week after week. The unbelievable highs as those elusive winners powered their way to victory. The despairing lows, as the forum continued to crash after yet another upgrade.
However it wasn?t just the inept standard of tipstering I had become addicted to. It was the Betfair community itself. Suddenly I would find myself logging on first thing in the morning, simply to discover whether Infomaniac had been for a dump yet! Or last thing at night, just to reassure myself that Limerick Mick and his horse, had arrived home safely from yet another days globetrotting.

Gradually, over the months that followed, and as my funds continued to dwindle, I slowly began to change. At first it was barely noticeable. For instance, instead of saying hello as I met up with friends and relations, I would find myself making a huge smiley face to indicate I was pleased to see them. Or upon hearing an amusing anecdote I would no longer laugh, I would simply utter the word LOL. Or if it were particularly amusing, I would tell them it was so funny my arse had fallen off. Also, as the forum insecurities began to take hold, my online paranoia began to manifest itself into my home life. Such as the times my parents came to visit and began boasting about how successful my brothers had become, Instead of just shrugging my shoulders, I would immediately accuse them of ramping their selections, brandish the yellow card and ban them from the house for a month.
Or the day I had a minor disagreement with my neighbour. After he discovered I was responsible for spreading the rumours, that his nubile teenage daughter was actually a middle-aged truck driver called Bob. Who was merely pretending to be a girl, so desperate men like myself would lavish him with attention, and sign up to his website! Whereas previously I would have entered into a calm and rational debate with the man, whilst hoping to persuade him that my point of view was the correct one, and to kindly release his grip on my testicles. Instead i began shouting that he was a MUG and a MUPPIT, before arranging to meet him in a nearby pub car park, where I intended to beat him to within an inch of his worthless life.
Once out of hospital, and as my debts, and online habit continued to grow. So did the concerns of my family. Who despite my insistence there was nothing to worry about. Often went to unbelievable lengths to tempt me away from the forum. The first such occurrence was during the late summer. I remember the speakers had broken down on my computer, and as my radio was in the next room, I had spent most of the day tapping my feet, while reading a selection of lyrics that had been posted on chitchat. I had just begun to read the second verse of ?I?m too sexy? by ?Right Said Fred? when there came a timid knock at the door. Even as I write this, I can still picture the tear stained faces of my wife and children, as they gently took my hands, and told me our beloved cat had died. However later that night, as I tapped away at my keyboard, while listening to the sounds of my 5 year old son digging a ?Tiddles? shaped grave in the garden. I couldn?t help thinking how suspicious it was. That a cat that had been in excellent health for over 21 years, would suddenly pass away as the Big Brother final was about to begin. I tried to reassure them that if Nikki were to win I would buy them an even better cat, but they wouldn?t listen.
Or the time during early December, when my young son and daughter ran excitedly into my study, and asked if I would take them into town to see Santa Claus. Once again I suspected it was a ruse. After all, what self-respecting person still believes in a flamboyant, rosy-cheeked, fat faced old man? Who does very little, apart from cost people money, sit on his backside, and eat copious amounts of pies for most of the year? Nobody apart from channel 4 and Mrs McCririck! I tried to explain to them that daddy was busy, and that unless my purple loan was approved, or Paul Eddery, managed to ride the winner in the first race at Wolverhampton, then there wouldn?t be any presents! And the only people who would be visiting our house on Christmas Eve were the bailiffs! But again they refused to understand. Deciding instead to burst into tears, before running away shouting ?MUMMY?.

Things finally came to a head just a few days ago, on the evening of my wifes birthday. As I had been fairly busy on the forum that night, monitoring a pair of particularly interesting threads entitled, ?who is your favourite Cheeky Girl?? and ?which hand do you use to wipe your ar$e with?? I decided to send a text to my wife asking her if she would care to come upstairs and take a look at the e card I had just mailed her. I was just about to press send, when there she was, naked and smiling at me from the hallway.
In many ways my wife is a wonderful woman. A 31-year-old, former Filipino bargirl who travelled to England just over 10 years ago, with dreams of becoming a waitress. The first time we met was during a friend?s stag party. As soon as I saw her walk onto the stage, carrying a bottle of lubricant, and begin firing a succession of ping-pong balls haphazardly across the room, I knew she was the girl for me. Two months later we were married, and now here she was, naked, carrying a racket, and begging me to take her to bed. It was only 3am, but as it was her birthday I felt I really couldn?t refuse.

5 minutes later as I lay breathless, and my wifes rabbit continued the job I had begun, all I could think about was the forum. And how many posts I had missed in the time I was away. I told my wife I was going to get a drink of water, but even as I grabbed my laptop and crept ashamedly down the stairs and through the back door, I was certain she suspected the truth.
That?s when it happened. I had just finished typing that my chosen method was to stand up, lean completely forward, and use a reverse, double-handed sweeping technique, when suddenly the light was turned on and my wife started to scream.
I can only imagine how it must have looked, to open the shed door in the middle of the night, and discover your husband sitting precariously on the edge of the lawnmower in his undercrackers, explaining to a group of strangers how he prefers to wipe his ar$e.
I tried to tell her that it wasn?t how it seemed, and that rather than being on the forum, I was simply ordering a turkey from tesco`s and looking at some porn, but the damage had already been done, and despite my protestations and pleas for forgiveness, the very next morning she had packed my belongings and was gone, taking the children and the new cat with her.

It is for this reason that I have decided to cancel my Internet connection and leave the forum forever. You may think this a touch extreme, but I urge you to heed this warning. As you sit down with your families this Christmas, and suddenly feel the urge to log onto Betfair, just to see who?s online, or what everyone has just had for dinner! Please. I beg you not to, it just isn?t worth it.

Although on second thoughts, who the hell am I kidding? See you all tomorrow.