Thursday was a bad day all round. Not only did I lose a packet on the nags at York; things also became quite complicated in my love life.
Indeed given you are regular readers of the column I may as well tell you all. ‘Er indoors is leaving me. Apparently she can’t stand “how I exaggerate everything” so much and wants a trial separation. A trial f*cking separation! I could not believe it and it goes without saying I am absolutely gutted. In fact I was so shocked I nearly tripped over my own c*ck.
That was the weekend that was.
I hit the drink on Friday night and after a rare foray out of town, almost came unstuck after getting into an argument with a group of needlessly aggressive young lads in Yarm. I mean what is wrong with ‘da yout’ of today? Truth be told even though there was five of them I never felt unduly threatened given they were all ‘Wham Boys’ who had hair like Brooklyn Beckham.
That all changed though when said group started throwing right-hand boomers at my chin as I back-pedalled around Yarm High Street. I had to weather a hail of punches and kicks and at one point I really thought old Cheeky’s life was about to be snuffed out by this rabid but well-groomed collection of lunatics in beige chinos.
Happily an old Asian taxi driver came to my aid (think Mr Miyagi during the fancy dress scene in Karate Kid I) and helped me get the f*ck out of dodge.
I awoke on Saturday with a bruised jaw and ripped shirt. Ibuprofen and paracetamol helped but what really had me feeling better was watching Arlen Lopez win the middleweight boxing final. I had him as the last leg of a 7/1 boxing double in Rio and copped for a majestic 1300 sovs. I withdrew a gorilla and put the remaining £300 on Conor McGregor to beat Nate Diaz at 4/5. The Notorious won an absolute epic in the small hours on Sunday morning. It was bloody and brutal and to be honest by the end I had seen quite enough violence for one weekend. I’ll leave the last word to Gandhi, who once mused: “An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind.”
Last week I gave some serious consideration to steaming into England to win all their World Cup qualifiers at 10/1.
We may have been f*cking horrendous at the Euros but I was finding it hard to see how we didn’t take maximum points against Slovakia, Slovenia, Malta and Lithuania. Then there was the ‘Auld Enemy’. Scotland. In international football parlance Scotland are like that girl at school who was an absolute worldly but who went on to marry a psycho, have nine kids and become addicted to amphetamine.
10/1 I thought? I’ll sh*t em I thought. Then on Tuesday I hear Sam Allardyce seriously claiming he might be about to bring Jermain Defoe and John Terry back into the England side. I mean seriously what the f*ck is this? And what next for Big Sam? Captain Mainwearing in a holding midfield role? Private Pike as a false nine? Ridiculous.
Cheeky’s Punt of the Week: West Brom and Middlesbrough to draw at 11/5 (Paddy Power)