So it's the World Championships of Amateur Poker tomorrow people. We're starting with the Omaha event and I'll be honest with you, I'm not confident. In fact, by about 8pm I'm more likely to be at the Emirates listening to Steve McClaren shouting out instructions in his comedy Dutch accent than taking my seat at the final table.
I made an error last night at the Pigeons you see, I made an error which will haunt me forever more. I can't even bring myself to explain it, but it was so bad I may be on tilt for the rest of my life.
I consider Omaha to be my worstest game. It is not what the Doctor ordered as a means of catharsis. By the time the main event begins on Saturday I may have permanent psychological damage of Oskar Matzerath proportions. In fact I've just been out to the toy shop to buy a tin drum. If on Sunday you see me in an alleyway dribbling beating my drum it'll be best just to leave me to it.
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I made an error last night at the Pigeons you see, I made an error which will haunt me forever more. I can't even bring myself to explain it, but it was so bad I may be on tilt for the rest of my life.
I consider Omaha to be my worstest game. It is not what the Doctor ordered as a means of catharsis. By the time the main event begins on Saturday I may have permanent psychological damage of Oskar Matzerath proportions. In fact I've just been out to the toy shop to buy a tin drum. If on Sunday you see me in an alleyway dribbling beating my drum it'll be best just to leave me to it.
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