I think it was Epicurus who said ‘Be moderate in order to taste the joys of life in abundance’.
Sadly, me and moderation have always made uneasy bedfellows down the years and a calamitous decision to go for “a few pints” on Friday afternoon ended with me rolling home at 8pm on Saturday.
I ended up in a house party on the Friday night as Donald Trump was being inaugurated.
By 7am on the Saturday people were getting their second wind and chatting absolute s**te.
The conversation turned to how “off it” it would be if someone tried to shoot Trump and whether in any assassination attempt his bodyguard would shout “Donald Duck!”.
Yes folks, I was swimming in the murky waters of a rollover and when talk goes all crazy and the milkman is doing his rounds you really should be thinking about heading home. Not me though. I stayed in it for another 11 hours, probably because, as ‘er indoors is never shy in telling me, I have a PhD in Arseholery.
Good hangover cures? Bacon and eggs? A cold shower? Loads of water and two paracetamol? All new doubt have redeeming qualities but nothing quite hits the spot like spiking a 40/1 treble.
The only genuinely positive thing I did last weekend, on the sabbath after the demons descended and were playing the bongos on my very soul, was to have a football betting tenner on St Etienne, PSV and Bayer Leverkusen BTTS and win.
Leverkusen hosed in 3-1 while the French side came from a goal down to win 2-1. PSV were being dogs however and on 89 minutes were 3-2 down at home to Heerenveen. Incredibly, goals from Marco van Ginkel and Hector Moreno turned that game upside down and gave me such a boost as I lay there on my bed in the recovery position, trapped in the mind closet.
So a semblance of normality had returned to my life on Tuesday and I even managed to go to the gym. While in the sauna minding my own business and sweating out the last of the weekend excess, an old fella who I had never met before told me a horse called The Cobbler Swayne was a shoo-in for the 3:30 at Wetherby.
In fact his actual words were “Have you got a house son? Well, sell it and put the money on The Cobbler Swayne today. 7/1.” Don’t ask me why I was taking this OAP sat casually with his c**k and balls out seriously but I was. Incidentally why do people of a certain vintage feel it is okay to sit bollocko in the sauna?
Anyway the nag drifted horribly to 11/1 before the off, never threatened and eventually finished third last. Moral of the story? Never accept sweets or horse tips from naked strangers.
Cheeky’s Punt of the Week: Derby to beat Leicester City at 13/8 (Betfred)