Absolute scenes in Chez Punt last Wednesday. A day previously I’d had a lumpy treble consisting of Livingston, Barcelona and Manchester City. All were shorties and all were expected to win.
Livingston duly did the business 3-0 on Tuesday evening and on Wednesday, Barcelona scorched into a 3-0 lead against PSG at the Camp Nou. The greatest comeback in the long and illustrious history of European football was on, until Edison Cavani scored for the French to make it 3-1 and seemingly kill the tie.
At that point I stuck Sky Sports 1 back on and grimly sat through the absolute horror show that was the second half of Man City v Stoke, hoping that Pep Guardiola’s men would nick one. They didn’t. So while one of the greatest moments in the history of football was taking place on the other channel, I was eating a bag of Scampi Fries and listening to Carra and Niall Quinn trying to keep straight faces while ‘analysing’ that 0-0 draw at the Etihad. Honestly man, I’m not saying I’m unlucky, but if I bought a f**king cemetery people would stop dying.
I ended up in McDonald’s the other day with a mate who also likes a punt. We get talking and he starts giving it big licks about the fact he is a big eater. We kept on talking before I suggested I would bet him £100 he couldn’t eat ten double cheeseburgers in 20 minutes.
He reckons he would do this “easy” so we agreed a date and a venue with the loser also squaring the food bill. I was unsure if I had made the right choice in doubting his prowess for devouring junk food so texted a mate the next day with the following:
‘I’m betting a lad £100 he can’t eat 10 McDonald’s double cheese burgers in 20 minutes. What ya reckon?’
Quick as a flash said other mate text back:
‘At 7:45am in the morning? I ‘reckon’ you are unfit for civilised society. Still, give me a full-time score when you have it.’
I am off to the Cheltenham Festival on Thursday and Friday where the going is mostly drunk, hammered in places.
Thistlecrack pulling out of the Gold Cup left me bereft a few weeks ago and also cursing a string of ante-post wagers I had lumped on Colin Tizzard’s four-legged superstar.
The Festival started on Tuesday and it was sod’s law that I would come down with a major bout of ‘Seconditis’ on the day. I went in heavy on Melon (3/1), Singlefarmpayment (5/1) and Vroum Vroum Mag (11/4). All ran blinders, all finished second.
My misery was complete when I tried to chase a few quid back later in the evening backing both teams to score in the Leicester – Sevilla game, only to watch in horror as Steven N’Zonzi’s a**e nipped as he missed a penalty late doors at The King Power. Gambling, a disease of barbarians superficially civilised.
Cheeky’s Punt of the Week: Sunderland to beat Burnley at 6/4 (Hills)