jaded...

Steve Deadmoney

A strange game this week. We were all set, but at the last minute a few of the Dogs had to pull out. None of them mentioned having a bucket of cold water thrown over them, so lets have those excuses on a postcard to:  The Phat Dogs (Poker? I did! Competition), c/o The Kennel, Barking. NB: Any references to having a huge bone will be mocked mercilessly...

So anyway, there were a mere 4 Dogs and 2 guests this week. Lindz & G were hosting with Phil and myself, plus our newest guest Big Lee (no I didn't ask, but Lee please note the warning above) and one of our regulars, Jesus. Obviously Jesus would have been with us in spirit anyway, but Lord knows its better when hes there in person.

So with only 6 players it was always going to be as mad as a Womens Institute AGM. And so it proved. Lindz was leading the way on the rebuys, and after much mocking from yours truly, I proceeded to follow suit. No surprise that we both drew the line after a while, as the new boy Big Lee (rather appropriately) had an enormous stack in front of him. Lindz was clearly worried about her chances of taking THAT on, whilst I was suffering from chip stack envy...

G looked likely to depart soon after, but he does have an aversion to the bubble... Despite his imminent fate, Lindz and I knew it was far from being all over, and headed off to acquire our newly-preferred type of chips, courtesy of Mr. Cod. The Coroners inquest was still continuing on our return, as all 4 were still in. As I mentioned, there was all the excitement of an Alan Bennett monologue, so it wasn't easy keeping up with events. True, my task may have been slightly easier had I actually been sat in the same room, and then there was also the matter of the Chablis and the Jacobs Creek...

Nevertheless, I stuck to my task and ambled through whenever voices were raised. That's TWICE I was disturbed from Get Me Out Of Here, I'm a Nobody, and I hate being woken up... On the first occasion, G (who had been making some unusually bold plays to survive) heralded his non-bubble result with his usual, calm, dignified charm. It seems that the tedium had reached fever pitch with the other 3 all in on the same hand. And so it came to pass that Jesus managed to take out both Phil and Lee in one hand. Which of them was the lower stack (and therefore the bubble) I had no idea. Not the least fucking interest. All I knew was that G was doing the much rejoicing, it was now heads up, and the grand finale was that much closer.

Jesus naturally had a huge chip lead, and the waiting shouldn't have been too long... except he was playing against Graham. I returned to the Jacobs, feeling cream-crackered. Some time later, Jesus concluded events, humbly avoiding the use of "I'm holier than thou" as he registered his first Phat Dogs victory. Well done mate - but I'm still not a believer. You need to do just a teensy bit more to qualify for miracle-worker status. After all, as everyone knows one swallow does not a Summer make (no mention of the perfect BJ here...) G had certainly proved his staying power, and was happy that he and Lindz had broken even on the night. Actually, he didn't seem happy - ecstatic would be closer.

Although Phil hadn't made the money, he did manage to rid himself of the Mr. Consistent tag. Nothing to do with his playing ability being lacking in any way, he merely confided that he much prefers our latest, catchier alternative - Ping Pong. To quote (or paraphrase, I really was past caring) Phil's own words, "I'd much rather be associated with the world's greatest sport!" Hmmmm... I think Ping Pong IS a better nickname, but I have 2 questions: Greatest? And, of course, Sport?

There may be some argument that ping-pong isnt a pastime, or hobby, in the same way that train-spotting also involves some physical exercise, but for now I'll have to disagree. I say for now simply on the basis that in my dotage Ping Pong Phil (PPP?) may well call round one day and trick me into reversing that opinion. Ah well, better that than some conman tricking me into having my driveway covered in tarmac (I don't have a drive).

And what of Big Lee? He claimed to have had an enjoyable evening, despite mourning the loss of his huge chip lead (been there, done that, wrote the report last week). He vowed to return, so I can only promise that nights at the Dogs are usually rather more boisterous, a lot more fun, but no less psychologically-damaging. We look forward to seeing you again.

So, with all the excitement of no league points, no hands remembered, and a pot barely worth pissing in, it falls to me to bring you all the riveting news from the Phat Dogs world. Errrrrrm...

Let me rephrase that. Don't forget to tune in next week, when (assuming its as good as this) I shall no doubt turn on and drop out. Christmas is such a drag, I figure that I might as well start early. Hey, it didn't hold Eddie Izzard back. Anyway, at times like this we should all give thanks.

Dear Lord,

Thanks for not making me a turkey, and also for preserving my lead at the top of the table. Whilst I do appreciate you must be pretty busy, especially at this time of year with all your birthday celebrations and whatnot, I couldn't help but notice that you found time for a degree of nepotism in this weeks game. Yes, I do know he has to win some time, but GOD the game was boring. So, please can you find time for all the absentee Dogs to make it next week - otherwise my writing will fall on its arse again and I'll never be the next Barbara Cartland. No, not even in drag.

I would also be most grateful if you could arrange it so that Mr. Blunketts Dog could make a guest appearance at the Chew Chip Cup. Don't worry, I can help David cross the M4 - as many times as it takes - that bastard has the luck of the Devil for a blindingly obvious reason. Oh, and whilst I've got you here, could you pass my Xmas list on to Santa? Cheers mate.

A case of Chablis, Jacobs Creek or similar. None of that Spanish muck I got last year.

A chair. The WSOP or EPT would be preferred.

No turkey for me this year, but if you could just cut the balls off all the racist wankers at the Home Office and Immigration Service, you would be doing us all a favour. Obviously they'll end up in the bin with the Brussel Sprouts, but my Canadian girlfriend (who isn't a nanny) would be really grateful since now we cant actually spend Christmas together...

That last one could be a bit tricky, but I would settle for an Uzi and a couple of AK47s.

Ahhhhh, Christmas! A time of giving thanks, counting our blessings (if you could just remind me what those are again), and evening scores...