I wrote this some time ago,
after a particularly nasty day at work. It's long, and quite ranty, so fair play if you stick with it. I work at a bookies, not so sure if I should put the name; so it will go under the indecipherable moniker of "Sid James". I'm sure you can work it out.

Those who know me will be unsurprised to learn that working at Sid James comes with a complete deck of annoyances and frustrations, tempered somewhat by my gambling keenos. Sadly, this is not enough to restrain me from my written purge, my frustration boiling to a zenith like a rutting stag at the height of mating season. Hopefully this will give you hoo-mans a little insight into the world of a Sid James gamble monkey. Having said that, sensible people should probably stop reading now; if you're into your bitter, hate filled diatribes, crack on!

For clarities sake, I am only dealing with the call aspect, dispensing with the minor irritations that are standard in offices up and down the country on this occasion. Brilliant isn't it. Also, I'm employing a first-person technique in writing, it's not a personal affront to you the reader, unless you the reader are in fact a Sid James punter. In which case I hate you.


1. Opening the Call

a) OK, best not to start with the opening gambits of "d'you want my account number?" - no I'd like to fucking guess it sir - or "can I have a bet please?" - It's. 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) You also don't need to leave pauses when giving your six digit account number. I can handle it all in a row, I really can.

c) Shockingly enough, I need the account information before I can place the bet. Don't come on after the off, trying to spit out the bet, and getting angry when I ask for your name. It's your own fault you missed it, you lazy ignorant cunt.

d) Don't be eating, going to the toilet, stood next to a pub jukebox, or chatting to your similarly idiotic friend when calling. Oh and going "Oh you want the account number? Hang on I'll just get my card" will make my heart hurt. Preperation is the buzzword here, more on this later.

e) An isolated incident, but noteworthy nonetheless - when the call starts with a computer generated message, wittering on about legal matters, we tend to hang up. This is what you get when you try and get a bet on from jail.


2. Right, We're In

a) Oh where to start. This is where things go seriously wrong. For starters, don't cut me off during my "hello Mr Urwelluncool, what can I do for you" - 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, its 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. And that baby I can hear crying in the background? Tend to it, feed it, love and cherish it...don't spunk it's college fund on crap bets.

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) Let me explain the concept of each way betting. It is a bet of two parts - one bet on the win, the other on the place - and is used to back long odds, which you think have a good chance of placing, with the possibility of a big payout if the selection manages to win. Place terms are generally a fifth of the odds for the top 3, or maybe quarter top 4. To put it simply, you have to have a fairly rampant streak of weakness to go each way on anything below a 5/1 (you're losing money for the place bet see?). But insinuations like that have never stopped a Stan James punter yet - each way on a 4/7 shot being the worst I've seen. Man up for the win goddam!

c) But it seems it's really hard to go for the win. Maybe it's our fault; perhaps we offer too much that lets you get away from the whole pesky business of actually trying to work out the winner of any given event. Every footie game, for instance, brings with it a whole cavalcade of useless, weak, trivial bets for the discerning idiot. Under/over corners, goals, bookings, shirt numbers - all pathetic, all guaranteed to be on the "over" side. Can you tell me sir, what is it about these teams that make you so sure of 5 first half corners in the match? Just WHAT are you basing that on?

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. A1 is what we call them, a cunning alias for people who suck at the gamble. 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" - 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 it's 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, wether you've recently shagged a prostitute, or the death of all your close family, or how that recent trip to the hospital went (various - you'd be surprised how often you get this).

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, your opinions on prices/markets/anything else? Quite useless. AND 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.

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" 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 YOU FUCK ARGJRHG DONT HANGUPVP;]ORGRSLSR DONT. SKUDHG[#KJBZE DONTFUCK INHG]DHANG UP CUNTSKU,.;AB;EFKEW. #]. Don't do it.
(bacontrout got ska, Sat 3 May 2008, 10:55, 1 reply)

i want to click
but i'm to afraid that i'll be eaten.
*runs away like a terrified octopus on speed*
(Malcav, Sat 3 May 2008, 11:57, closed)