Dead Cert “A tale of gambling on The Holloway Road.”


Got another dead cert today, 5.40 somewhere in Ireland.
“What’s it’s name ?” I said.
“Who?”  he said.
“The horse” I said.
“I’ll text you”  he said.
“Ok ? ” I said as and I waited for the text outside of Ladbrooks, really needing the loo
I confronted my inner gambler, he needed the loo too.
Inside besides me was a gambler an and ex Jockey.
The gambler was shorter than the ex jockey, and the ex jockey was more of a gambler than
The gambler.
“Can I get the odds?”  I said.
As if I didn’t know.
And as I lost a twenty pound note that I bet on a horse in Ireland winning a race I wasn’t sure even existed.
I smiled, because I’m stupid and they’re not.


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