This has sod all to do with beer. It’s about people. This afternoon I was invited to join a lottery syndicate by my work colleagues. What has to be the single most retarded lottery syndicate on the face of this earth. Lotteries by large are for idiots. I know the idea that somebody wins it but when you look at the odds then actually no it’s not going to be you. You have a greater chance of being knocked over by a bus than winning the lottery. That’s even if you never left the house because a bus just might pile through your living room, even if your road isn’t on a bus route. You never know.
Buying lottery tickets is a mugs game. But that was not the reason why this syndicate was retarded. The purpose of a syndicate is to pool tickets to increase your slim chances of winning by accepting a smaller share of the jackpot. There is a certain logic to it even if the chances of winning still remain pitifully poor.
This syndicate was started by 2 people looking for a third person to buy 1 ticket for the euro millions lottery. Making 3 people paying 50p each for a £1.50 ticket. I declined to be the third. When I explained that it was the single most retarded idea I’d heard that day, they seemed a little put out so I explained to them that there was little point in sacrificing a third of the winnings for no other reason than to reduce my stake from a nominal sum of £1.50 to 50p. The full stake isn’t onerous and if I thought I stood a chance I’d buy a whole ticket for myself thank you very much. That if I wanted to reduce the bet it would be an acceptance that the chances were slim which would more logically result in not playing than simply seeking to lose less money. That a logical syndicate would be to buy 3 tickets. That every member put in £1.50 and then the number of tickets bought are equal to the number of members with any winnings pooled. That way I’d be increasing my chances of winning a smaller jackpot. They looked blankly at me and went off looking for a third person willing to give them 50p.
That is people for you. That’s why this weekend I won’t be socialising with people. That’s why you don’t need people. That’s why all you need in life is a fridge full of lout and a compliant playmate with nice tits that’s kind enough to let you have a go on them. That’s my weekend. Playing with the lady squeeze and drinking lout. I cannot wait.
UPDATE : They found a third person and went off to buy a ticket. Euro millions has gone up to £2 apparently. They returned to the office looking for a fourth mug. I got asked again. "Are you sure, you'll be sorry on Monday when we're all millionaires" I resorted to a profanity. I'm not proud of that. It wasn't even an original piece of work. I'd got it from the Malcolm Tucker character in the sitcom "The Thick of It". Suffice to say they won't be asking me again if the price goes up to £2.50 in the next half hour.