EXCERPTS FROM THE NEW NONSELLER BY

After all the excitement of having new Dogs last week (insert your own <ball?> gag here about the state of my sex life), we finally sat down to see how well the logistics would work out when ALL 14 of us showed up at once. Well almost - Baz (Mr. Entertainment from the forces) was missing in action (ooh-er!). At least that's what he claims - I'm making up my own jokes about his sex life these days: Been on manoeuvres again, Baz? How long do you have to stand to attention before you're put "at ease"? Exactly how often do the forces use their bayonets these days? You saluted her how many times? Etc. etc. So Baz, that only leaves one remaining question that the Dogs want to ask you:

When will you be coming again?

We also had a couple of guest players again this week, so with virtually a full house (let the groaning begin! No, not you, Baz...) we descended on Dave like a meteor shower. Surprisingly, the proceedings kicked off pretty much on time. More surprising still, we carried on all night without difficulty (Dogs 1, Baz ???)

Guests this week were Pete Copage (aka Cabbage) and Mel Lofthouse, who for those of you who are unaware, is a pro. Errr... poker pro. Actually, that doesn't sound much better, but you know how it is with these reports. Let's just say if you're giving her the shirt off your back, it's because she's already got all your money. Oops! I seem to be getting myself in deeper with every (column) inch. What I'm trying to say is that she plays poker professionally. I wasn't trying to imply that she's some kind of "Pretty Woman". Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Forget the money, I think I'm just Dead from now on...

Time to move on - and quick. I wonder if I'd be safe in Outer Mongolia? Probably not, and I doubt that Cadburys have made enough chocolate yet for an effective peace offering... I guess next time I see Mel I'll be fucked. Oh god, there I go again... I meant I'm ready for my come-uppance... D'OH!

Hmm... this really is going extraordinarily badly. Which coincidentally is how my game started (he said, finally finding a link back to the comparative safety of poker). Andy, my nemesis from 2005, ably demonstrated why he won the league last year by winning all my chips every time I started to accumulate even a modest stack. I had to rebuy 3 times in under an hour - time for Plan B. Or to give it its full title, Plan "B Lucky" (first used in the East End late last century).

I secretly pulled out my lucky rabbit's foot (not so lucky for the rabbit, but then he didn't have a plan, did he?) I don't actually own a lucky rabbit's foot you understand, and no, it wasn't hired from Lucky Heather's Voodoo Emporium either. It's a metaphor for changing my game play. How to be lucky? Stop playing like a reckless twat when you realise the freeze-out is just around the corner seemed to be a good starting point. And so having thrown caution to the wind, I went and asked for it back. Fortunately, I then managed to scrape my way back into the reckoning just before the half-time team talk I was about to give myself.

My chat was put on hold however, as I'd forgotten about the continuing initiation of the new Dogs. Following last week's top effort from the Doc, we were to enjoy presentations from both Harry Potter (Nick) and Jesus (Jon). HP was first up with his song, which no doubt you will all have seen and heard as the download link has rightly been put on the home page. Frankly, a .wmv file from a mobile phone can barely do the song justice - it was a sterling effort that entertained us all hugely. Luckily for Nick, I can exclusively reveal that Simon Cowell has been on to us to advise that he wants to release "I wanna be a Phat Dog". Apparently it’s just what he's been looking for to try to once again kick-start Michelle McManus's career. It is a good song, but I'm not sure it carries enough weight to turn that over. Well, Simon could always use it as the audition song when they finally kick the ginger one out of Girls Aloud.

And so to Jesus. Nick's song was clearly going to be a hard act to follow, but if anyone could pull it off in front of an audience... err, they'd be a porn star. That's a career I've considered myself, but at the audition the director told me I was ahead of my time (by about 12 minutes). We then failed to settle our artistic differences (the 3^rd line <out of 4> of the script read, "he fucks her ass", but I only realised the true meaning when they brought in the donkey). Finally, after burning my bridges, I discovered that there's only a demand for women who want a solo career. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why these reports are such a load of old wank.

Jesus began. His miracle attempt with a powerpoint presentation was fine, but just as we were anticipating the "Oops! How did that one get in there?" line to accompany some pornographic image, it was all over. He'd shot his bolt and there was to be no second coming. To be fair, the lad had turned up for the game even though his Swiss girlfriend had only moved in the day before. That's dedication, but I'm pretty fucking sure there was going to be no second coming when he got home either.

Back at the game, the same thing was happening to several of the lower stacked players, who also failed to pull it off (the wank of shame?) As you can see on the site, the Walk of Shame went to Quads Marty, quickly followed by Dave Two Chairs and several others. I had some sympathy for our guest Pete (Cabbage). He'd been ahead of me before the f/out with both of us all-in, only to see me make the winning hand. When it happened again after the f/out, the Cabbage was cooked. But he'll be back, if only to tell me (next time that I put him all-in) to get the f/out.

Also missing from the final table were the Doc, Del, and Lindz. The chip leaders kept it tight as the clock ticked on, letting the others succumb to the pressure of the blind raises. Phil,
Andy, G, even Mel and then Craig all fell by the wayside. This left Harry Potter & the Potterettes, Jesus H (I think its time we distinguished him from all the other, lesser Gods), The Waffling Belgian Slag and Deadmoney / Deadjammy.

Nick had won much admiration for his song, but not too many chips, and as befits someone with an impending hit, found himself bubbling under in 4^th. 3 of us left now, and as chip leader, I was keen for my remaining opponents to take each other on. The moment one of them went all-in, I began baiting the other to call him. The strategy should have worked (after all, I've been called a master-baiter for years), but it didn't. I was going to have to take matters into my own hands...

So it was that I took on Jesus. He was ahead, but I was lucky. Despite playing a great game all night, Jesus got nailed (but not too cross). So it was The Slag and Deadmoney heads up. They could smell the bullshit all the way to the Gutshot. With a healthy chip lead of about 4/1, Deadmoney put The Slag all-in on his first playable hand. Only to be called by the Belgian who wasn't waffling this time - he'd made his pair. Cue the Deadjammy monicker again, and hey presto! A higher pair for the spawny, scrawny, fluke-meister.

A jubilant Deadmoney quipped: "I'd like to thank my lucky rabbit's foot, 4 leaf clover, Lucien the leprechaun, the pooch whose crap I trod in outside Dave's place, and the unwashed, stinking, pikey granny from the shopping centre for the sprig of lucky heather I bought for fear that I was going to pass out if she followed me for even another second. Lucky charms are much like adverts - you know some of them can work, but you just can't tell which (or possibly witch)".

Initial stake £ 5.00

Re-buys £15.00

Brunson's Super System $29.99

Luckee 'ever darlin'? Priceless