I have discovered that I have inherited the family Gamblers' Curse. My Dad is infamous for this - whenever he had a flutter on the Grand National (probably the only time he ever gambled apart from the Pools and that doesn't really count) - you could put money on the fact that the horses he backed either died or never raced again. In the end we had to persuade him to stop betting on it. Last night me & hubby went to the dogs. Hubby loves a flutter, he'd bet on your nan making it to the postbox without pausing for a rest, and it's quieter in the week, not so full of chavs, so I agreed to go. I usually do ok at the dogs, win a couple of quid and go home happy. But to my horror, last night the Gamblers' Curse struck me down. My first dog finished about 10 minutes after the others, the second one finished lame, the third and fourth were last, the fifth had a fight halfway round the course and so finished last, the sixth was bumped and finished (you guessed it) last. I put 50p (last of the big spenders me) on the dead cert and cursed it completely. We had to leave early. I can only hope it was a one off, or we ain't going to Vegas again!
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