Roasting peas...
I don't work here anymore, but when darkness falls I STILL HEAR THEM SCREAMING...

I am hopeful this loving piece will give you hoo-mans a little insight into the world of a Stan James telephone gamble monkey. Having said that, sensible people should probably stop reading now; if you're into your bitter, hate filled diatribes, crack on!

1. Opening the Call

a) OK, best not to start with the opening gambits of "Would you like my account number?" - no, I'd like to fucking guess it sir - or "Can I have a bet?" - You've. Rung. A. Betline. See, the answers I really want to give to both questions are invariably "no", so just give me your account number and let's get this over with.

b) About that account number. It is six digits long, there is no need to pause after each one. I'm a big boy, I can take it all.

c) Shockingly enough, I need the account information before I can place the bet. If your race is going off, and you are angry that I must ask for said information, there is a simple remedy, RING 20 SECONDS EARLIER YOU LAZY CUNT.

d) Think about the events that are about to transpire, your best course of action. Trackside at the Moto GP? Don't call. Eating food? Don't call. Actually taking an actual shit while we're ACTUALLY talking? Dear Lord, have some shame man. Don't call. When all the above criteria are met, and you are somewhere quiet and free from interruption, I can just barely tolerate you. This is as good as it gets.

Sometimes this happens - "You want the account number? *sigh* Hang on I'll just get my card" - this will make my heart hurt. Preparation is the buzzword here, more on this later.

2. Right, We're In

a) Oh, where to start. This is where things begin to go seriously wrong. For starters, don't cut me off during my "Hello Mr Shroodgambler, what can I do for you?" spiel - can't you see I'm being courteous, you fucker.

b) At this point, don't wander off for a conversation with your friend/partner/child. It's crucial we talk, so the important business of betting happens.

c) Now I can't stress this one enough - have some idea of what your bet is before you ring up.

You don't walk into a betting shop, wandering around asking people what to throw your money at, do you. Do you? Spending hours trawling through Lithuanian table tennis prices just so you can find some streaky 2/7 shot makes me cry blood tears.

d) Shouty calls are great. If there's one thing I love, it's repeating every word I say simply because you can't be arsed to leave the pub. Similarly it's brilliant fun when you whisper, due to fear of reprisal from wife/boss/Allah.

e) There are a select band of miscreants who are only allowed to get a bet on when confirmed by the card holder. The type of guy who isn't allowed his own bank account. It is generally "the missus" who does the deed (says the alpha-male type who opens the call - ok pal, move along, let your wife get the bet on), but there is at least one individual who needs the confirmation of his mum. Time to give it up imo.

3. Bad Bets

a) Too many years gambling, and too long working here, has made me quite snobbish about certain bets. There are a few specifics which I will mention later, but for now, a quick rundown on some of my favourite crap bets. Oooh it's like the chart show isn't it:

- Betting less than a fiver on an odds on shot. Get away from me you gypo, quite frankly.
- Placepots in which you pick every bloody horse running, for 5p stakes.
- Through-the-card forecasts on the dogs. I mean, what leads you to believe trap 1 will beat trap 2 in every. single. race? If you hate money that much, give it to charity.

b) Each way betting is a type of bet used to back long odds. There are two parts to the bet - the win, and the place. Without boring you with too much detail, if you back short odds, you lose money on the place. Anything below 5/1 is a bit silly. So when you go e/w on even money shots and less, my face looks something akin to a bulldog licking piss off a nettle.

c) But we make it hard to just go all out for the win. Myriad bets on a plethora of sports, it can be confusing. But sometimes you just wonder at the thought process of someone putting their cold hard sterling on the assumption there will be over five first half corners in a Belgian League 2 match. Just WHY?

d) I'll lump the rest all in together, as they all tend to come from a very distinct type of customer - the ones we make all the money off.

If you do any of the following -

Back the next fav off without even knowing what it is, when it's off, what sport it's even in.
Ask for what's "in-running" due to the urgent need of betting on something RIGHT NOW.
Ask for the score, get told to ring the results line, then go "Ahh sod it, I'll just have £500 on the short price".
Are unable to pronounce the name of whatever filth you are backing - this one is always a sure sign of the amount of in depth study that has gone into a selection. And don't worry if you can't quite get it, we accept anything from words that sound a bit like the one you're trying to say, to mild racism ("gimme a hundred on that chinky bird")

- any of these, and I will instantly want to ritually slaughter your first born.

4. Things I Don't Need To Know

a) I just need the name of the horse. Dear God. We have this cracking little index thing that means I can just type the fucker in, and everything magically happens. I don't need to know where it's running, who the jockey is, the trainer, what price it was this morning, how it did when it ran out last saturday, what ground it prefers - you might as well tell me its birth mother and date of conception.

b) Personal facts. I don't wanna hear about your life as an accountant for the largest Kellog import/export depot in Europe, about your theory on gay people, whether you've recently shagged a prostitute, the death of all your close family, or how that recent trip to the hospital went.

I'll be blunt, having to hack your voice for one second longer than necessary has me reaching for the staplegun, its destination, MY FACE. I HATE YOU. This is maybe a point I should've raised earlier.

c) Anything else but the bet really. When I give you a price, and you say "but Ladbrokes are doing 3/1!!", what exactly d'you want me to say? Good for them sir!? Just have a bet, or fuck off, is the rule I'm implying.

Also, our company perhaps works differently from those you have encountered previously. Your opinions on our prices/markets/anything else? Quite useless. Utterly without value. I mean that sincerely. If I say something, it's right. If you don't agree, you're wrong. In todays crazy world, it's nice to see a pure black/white fact.

d) The jokes. Oh the jokes.
"What can I do for you sir?"..."Well you could find me a winner! hohoho chortle chortle!"
"Would you like 3/1?"..."I'd prefer 20s hohoho guffaw!"
"D'you do prices for the marathon?"..."Why of course, who were you..."..."Wassa price of the bloke in the diving suit AHAHAHAH CHORTLE LOLZ!!one"

5. Almost Home

a) OK, almost there, but not quite. One of the most crucial parts of the call is about to happen - reading the bet back, and calling "Bet's on". I have to do this. I don't wanna, but I must. So don't talk over the top of me. Don't talk to someone else as I do this, then ask what the bet was again. Don't allow me to go all the way through, dial for the money, strike the bet, then go "Errr, actually I wanted it like this". Just be cool.

b) When I say "Anything else Sir?" that's your cue to get involved, should you want anymore gamble. When you wait until I finish the bet and go "Oh there was something else", my teeth actually curl back on themselves, and reroot into my gums, and blood froths from my mouth. It's a terrible sight.

c) DONT HANG UP ON ME. NOT WHEN IM READING THE BET BACK, NOT AFTER I GIVE YOU A PRICE YOU DONT LIKE, NOT AS IM DIALLING THROUGH, NOT AFTER IVE TAKEN THE FUCKING TIME TO PUT YOUR SHIT FUCKING BET ON AND LISTEN TO URFUCKING INANE TWIITERINGFUCKIN CUNT YOU FUCK ARGJRHG DONT HANGUPVP;]ORGRSLSR DONT. HANGUPSKUDHG[#KJBZE DONTFUCK INHG]DHANG UP CUNTSKU,.;AB;EFKEW. #]. Don't do it.
(bacontrout got ska, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 6:02, 4 replies)

Excellently written, have a click!
...and it's not just because I'm scared of you, honest!
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 7:50, closed)

This is
the best post I have ever read on this website.

I've worked for a fairly medium-sized North-East bookmaker* and know exactly where you're coming from, the only difference is I had to actually meet the cunts in question. All the same problems though. There is just so much here that I agree with.

My many experiences include my favourite. "Oooh I'll just have a daft bet on the football. 36p on Chelsea to beat Wigan." These were often the same customers who complained when they got little back, as in their mind, if you win a bet, you're rich beyond your wildest dreams. Another one I got was "check that again please, there should be loads more off this. 3 winners and a place!" In this case, the bet was normally a fucking 2p EW Lucky 15 with odds no longer than about 3/1. I honestly don't know where they find these twats.

I especially agree with the "Ladbrokes are giving 3/1 on this" part, the amount of times I heard that was unreal as we were quite a small bookmaker in comparison to the giants. If they want Ladbrokes prices, they can fuck off to Ladbrokes for all I care, it matters not one bit to me.

I'm all annoyed now thinking about how much I fucking hate nearly all people that bet. I think I could write almost as much in my reply as you did in the actual post there's that much to say about the generally thick-as-pig-shit betting public.

Edit: sorry forgot the *click*.

*Fucking management were a bunch of cunts too. "You took 3/1 on this £1 bet Dave, the price was actually 2/1 so you were 4 seconds late." ARRRRGGGHHHH!!
(geordiedave is reliving the time Southgate missed that penalty, Sat 6 Sep 2008, 11:26, closed)

^ you should do a reply for this qotw yourself!
...I'll wager you've had some SHOCKING customers in the shops. It's the FOBTs, brings out the worst in them!

To be blunt, gamblers are utter degenerates. Almost to a man. There are some good blokes in the business, but it's quite a depressing one :(
(bacontrout got ska, Sun 7 Sep 2008, 8:16, closed)

He who needs his mums permission...
Is his name Glenn by any chance?

I share this pain. Made redundant from a company now owned by SJ last year. I fucking hated it when i was there but look back on it now as the cushiest job i've ever had. We had some right cunts as customers tho. Mr Jain the mentalist who had £1 on every horse in the race but demanded a balance after each individual bet, the comedian who asked for a reverse forecast on the Boat Race and my personal favourite Mr Knight who told me he was an ex-government spy and had sold the idea for laser eye surgery to Tony Blair!
(thingymebobs, Tue 9 Sep 2008, 20:23, closed)