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This is my favourite painting ever. I first saw it in that movie Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Sunday afternoon on the island of Grande Jatte. Even though it was painted by a Frenchman I find this awesome. It's magnificence is beyond my comprehension. Honest, you can see it at the Art Institute in Chicago if you're ever over there. It's hypnotic.

That scene in the movie where Cameron just stares at it. I bet that was ad-libed. I bet he stood in front of it was suddenly transfixed. Focusing on every single one of the cabillion zillion dots. Young Ferris says in that movie that,'"isms" in his opinion are not good. A person shouldn't believe in an "ism" he should believe in himself.' Quite right too I always say, but only if you're adopting an "ism."

If you're the one who invented it then that makes you someone to be remembered and blogged about in years to come. Even if George Seurat did do have a ridiculous beard and smell like the inside of a packet of dry roasted peanuts, he invented pointilism (sort of) and that "ism" is most definitely good.

See the thing about me is right, I generally have no time for the artsy fartsy types. Fucking time wasters. A bohemian lifestyle to me is just not washing and never wearing socks. Grow up I always say. If Van Gogh had spent more time in sensible clothing and less time eating spinach he wouldn't have gone mad and cut his own ear off. I've always said that.

Georges Seurat though was different. More scientist than artist and I do so admire scientists. I admire people who can figure stuff out and people with patience. I have neither of these qualities see.

Seurat figured out that primary colours in close proximity look like secondary colours from a distance and ones eyes does the blending. So the upshot was he spent years and years knocking up paintings made up of millions of dots which when viewed from a distance are blended by ones eye and have more depth and colour and harmony than if they were blended on the canvas.

Sunday afternoon on the island of Grande Jatte took something like three years. And it's all just dots!! I'd go mad attempting something like that. To be fair he probably was mad, but still though. Crazyness. Absolutely beautiful astonishing and all by someone from Paris. I can scarcely believe it.

There's one of his other paintings in London, Bathers at Asnières. If the National Gallery was open until 5am and I didn't hate London with such a passion I'd go and see it I would.

I'd like to congratulate Oxford's over-privileged foreign toffs for their magnificent victory over Cambridge's over-privileged foreign toffs. I'm sure by way of celebration their cox is tied naked to a lamp post in Putney as we speak.

Meanwhile the losing Cambridge cox has probably got luminous green pubes by now and been lashed to the underside of a randy horse....poor girl. Public school life eh, you can't beat it.

I don't usually watch Friday Fight Night on Sky Sports. Usually the standard is no better than the bouts outside the kebab shop about the same sort of time of night and I prefer live action, but at 10:00pm tonight I will be watching.

I happened to be up this morning and can vaguely recall an interview with one Michael Gomez, a Scouser who appears to think he's Mexican, chuntering on in scouse-speak about how he was going to smash up his opponent, the sweaty Ricky Burns. They don't get along it seems.

This Gomez fella seems utterly unhinged. Even for a journey man boxer from Liverpool he seemed incredibly unstable both emotionally and physically. Without knowing anything about his record or his opponent's record I've had £10 @ 20/1 on Burns to win by disqualification.

This seems like a Tyson ear biting attack waiting to happen to me and I feel there's value in the price. There's a 15% chance it could be something even more gruesome. Even if my bet loses, someone from Liverpool or someone from Edinburgh is going to get hurt tonight really horribly hurt and that's got to be worth a tenner of anyone's money.

**Update: Apparently Michael Gomez is Irish not scouse. Same sort of thing though and everything else remains relevant.

Gordon Brown is going to take some time out from destroying the country to open discussions with the Queen about reforming the Monarchy. What this means is they're going to tweak their cosy little arrangement allowing the Royal family to continue to enjoy their privileged lifestyle and the Government to do what it wants without any checks or balances.

The plans are to give female Royals equal succession rights and Catholics the right to marry into the Royal family (seriously American readers, Catholics still cannot marry into our Royal family). But I've got a better idea. How about we get rid of the fucking inbred, sausage breathed parasites altogether?

Evening things up within the family doesn't alter the fact that the Monarchy as an institution is by definition discriminatory. Prince William for example; let's assume for the sake of argument that his father is Prince Charles and not some random gardener or chauffeur...why should he enjoy a more privileged lifestyle than me simply because the pussy they pulled him out of belonged to a woman who was married to Prince Charles?

It's a completely redundant institution and an expensive one. It's undemocratic and the argument that we should keep them around because they're a tourist attraction is both superficial and bollocks. Tourists don't come over here to have their pictures taken with the Queen, they take pictures of Buckingham Palace but they're not expecting to see the Queen.

I like the Queen in as much as she seems like a fairly approachable and normal person for a sovereign and she keeps her nose out politically, but if there was any real equality in this country she'd be working in a library now or Tescos.

And it gets worse. Prince Charles is far more opinionated than his Mam and almost all of his opinions are utterly detached from reality. We elect about half of our Parliament and on top of that we have a family of German parasites whose idea of playing fair is admit Catholics into their gene pool. I say NO gosh darn it. NO MORE. If you want reform, let's have proper reform.

I'd rather we had a brutally fascist dictator in charge than the mess we've got now. I'll settle for a President though. Can we not be a Republic pleeeease? Can we not? And can we have a cool President like Obama? As it stands our children and our childrens children are not only being burdoned with a Scottish meglomaniancs debts, but also an institution which tells them that they are not equal, that they have their place in society and better bally well accept it.

So anyway yes. After a bit of dilly-dallying I'm booked up. I had an idea to not bother with Vegas and instead to lump my funds into an effort to take down one of the big poker tournaments here, but sod that.

I don't need a money making venture, and I'd only bust out in half an hour anyway. NO! I need to live...liiiiiiiiiiiive.....live in the one place on this god forsaken Earth that not only forgives all evils, but openly encourages them.

Pool player Earl "the pearl" Strickland said in a recent interview with AZBilliards, "I love pocket Billiards and I love watching it too." Eww.

We like to mock Liverpudlians for their appalling accent and their inherently criminal mindset and of course their mawkish obsession with tragedy. I think though, it's important in times like these when for example, Liverpool are hammering Aston Villa and securing Arsenal's future in the process, that we celebrate their unique heritage and legendary sense of humour.

So for my Scouse readers here's a video of Christiano Ronaldo being abused by some typically articulate scousers. Incidentally I ought to point out to my American readers, the noise in this video is not static interference, it's just how they talk.

I'm very seriously considering emailing into Sky and asking them to justify their extortionate subscription prices for Sky Sports. I've bally well had it up to here with them people. In the last 24 hours they have broadcast Women's cricket (all of them lezza's of course, but women nonetheless), WWE wrestling, Rugby and now Hull v Wigan which as far as I'm concerned is a Rugby fixture too.

I can't reconcile my £50 subscription with the dross they are churning out. If they don't have enough proper sport to fill the five or six Sky Sports channels, then don't have five or six channels that's what I always say. Have one channel and show Arsenal all the time and maybe some figure skating. Really people, if I wanted to pay £50 a month just to indulge in thinly veiled sexual deviancy I'd move to Wales.

Women's cricket! Since when can women throw a cricket ball? Everyone knows that if you're in South East Asia and you're looking to pay for some sex, the most effective method of distinguishing between the females and the shemales is not to check for an Adam's apple, but to get it to throw a cricket ball. If it has a good technique and the ball goes a fair distance it's clearly pre-op and you're in for a nasty surprise.

Women's fucking cricket. It's appalling enough Sky show so much Rugby. Rugby as we all know was invented because of Victorian intolerance of homosexuality. Public school boys and the well to do were in need of an avenue to pursue their perverted prurience without the long arm of the law interfering, as it were, so they came up with Rugby. So thinly veiled as to be almost gossamer, it was a homosexual orgy masquerading as sport in full view of their voyeuristic chums and remains so to this day.

To add insult to injury they're now interviewing Phil Brown again. I doubt if Phil Brown has read the Greek Myths, not unless there's a pop-up version with big writing, but for his own good he ought to read the myths of Echo and Narcissus. He's both, rolled into one horrible man covered in a ludicrous fake tan. I hope he dies from staring at his own reflection, just without his voice remaining.

At least ask him some searching questions. Don't just pander to his ego. Ask him why his accusations towards Cesc Fabregas were reduced to "being on the pitch wearing trainers" when then the initial charge was gobbing in the face of Billy Hornsmith. Also, tell him to fuck off back to the North East where he can enjoy a retirement of drinking pink cocktails and groping sixteen year old Eastern Europeans. Utter cunt.

I placed a wager earlier today which is just something that has become part of my routine first thing on a Saturday afternoon. It's your basic football Yankee, but after further analysis I have renamed it a Lennie Small.

Poor Lennie Small was John Steinbeck's gentle giant in Of Mice and Men. A retarded thick headed dude in the depression era who so dearly loved mice and many other fluffy creatures, but with his immense strength he stroked them all to death. This wager I've placed all requires teams who like to play football to win; to stroke the ball around, to caress it, to love it people. Not long ball teams is what I'm saying.

But like Arsenal sometimes, there can be too much stroking in the pursuit of the perfect goal and these games like my wagers, are killed off. Arsenal have now won though, as have Villarreal and Sparta Rotterdam. I now need Sevilla to win. They are currently at 1-1 having given up an early lead...but still in the first half and plenty of time to go.


Good evening.

Can anyone explain to me why John Part is nicknamed Darth Maple? And also, why do the Sky people have him stood on one of the Chrysler building's art deco eagles in the pouring rain waving his little light sabre about? Even if John Part's nickname made sense, Star Wars was set in a galaxy far far away, not Manhattan.

I find Sky Sport's enthusiasm for such over the top hype and nonsense unfathomable, but in real terms no more so than my wagers I've placed this evening. I woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the afternoon today, woken by a vision of a fat Canadian sporting a luminous green neck-tie. Hmmm, a Canadian; a fat Canadian; a surprising tie? EUREEEKA!

I felt this could only mean John Part will some how eek out a draw against Phil Taylor tonight and at 12.5 on the exchanges it was worth a few shillings. I've also backed PSG and Udinese in the UEFA Cup and I fancy Galatasary to draw with Hamburg also. I have coupled this lot together in doubles and will win millions. I've got nothing more to say on the matter. I've said my piece I'll bid you good day.

I think it's important that we address some of the criticisms and accusations leveled at Cesc Fabgregas, Arsene Wenger and Arsenal as a club by Phil Brown and Hull's assistant manager Bobby Nornton or something. It's been a while since the meeeja enjoyed an unbridled Arsenal witch hunt so I was perhaps naive to think we'd make it to the end of the season without further accusations of being the very epitomy of evil.

Young Cesc was accused of spitting at Brian Norton, but that accusation has now been downgraded to "spitting at Bobby Hornton's feet." If he had Spanish mucus in his eye then I would be ashamed and embarrassed for Cesc. Spitting at his feet though? If spitting near some one's feet is a punishable offense then every footballer in every league is due a lengthy ban.

I find it intriguing no one has asked Bobby Hornfield why Cesc Fabregas might have felt the need to spit at him or in his general direction. Might he for example, have called Cesc a Spanish cunt? He gets called that quite often you know.

Some one did ask Phil Brown why Arsene Wenger didn't shake his hand, his answer was that "Arsene never does." "Never?" Hopefully this was hyperbole. We've only played Hull three times and they did shake hands at the league game at the Emirates anyway.

Phil Brown also accused Cesc Fabregas of being inappropriately dressed! What the fuck has that got to do with anything? And talk about the pot calling the kettle black. What was I saying about Phil Brown only last night? He dresses like a gay hairdresser for fucks sake. Cesc on the other hand was very appropriately dressed. It was cold and he wearing a leather jacket. What should he have been wearing? I'm sure if the roles were reversed Phil Brown would have been sporting heels and a silver sequined boob tube, but Cesc does not have enough up front for that.

Brown also feels Cesc had no right to be on the pitch after the game. Even Hull's fans are a little embarassed about these last two accusations. He's our team captain for fucks sake. If Arsenal are the only team ever ever ever to have an injured player come on the pitch to join in the celebrations of a victory then that's a fair criticism. If they're not, which they aren't, then that's an absurd load of bollocks from a man who knows his mountain is a mole hill and his heaping shit on it to make it look bigger.

Phil Brown is out of his depth in this environment and a the sooner he abandons this management lark and opens a wine bar called Bunnies the better for all of us. He can then wear all the pink shirts he likes and the rest of us can be left in peace to not be whiney twats.

Just a couple of things I think need discussing before I put the kettle on. Most of my American readers at the moment are probably dressed ridiculously in green outfits and looking for places to drink Guinness and behave indecently, so let's take this opportunity to make fun of them.

I'm not buying into this "conversion" nonsense. Let's be perfectly honest - St Patrick, who was actually Welsh, but gave up the Welsh gig to St David - was actually more than likely a murdering c*nt. I'm sure Americans take his story literally and think that he was just some sort of Celtic snake charmer, but no.

Obviously, like the story of George and the dragon, his whole "chasing the snakes out of Oireland" is an allegorical tale and more than likely is just a very gentle euphemism for how he rounded up all the druids and burnt them, probably ate them too with some potatoes.

Now if Americans have got something against druids and think their mass slaughter is worthy of celebrating once a year by dressing up in four leaf clovers and whatever green clothing they've got in their closets, then fair enough, that might explain a lot about their love of weaponry and the general destruction of everything they come into contact with. But for me, I think it's much more likely they just think it pisses us off and being our rebellious progeny, they just want to take any tenuous opportunity to mock us.

There will of course come a time, when they realise that everything we wanted for them was in their best interests and given the state of their nation now, it won't be too long before they wish they'd never bothered with their silly war of Independence. Like all children, they thought they had all the answers and set up a nation they thought would be nothing but pure awesome.

Much like a kid who thinks it would be heaven to be able to stay up after 10pm every night and eat ice cream every single meal. You let them try it and in no time at all they're being sick and passing out from fatigue.

They soon realise that there's a very good reason why you wanted them to eat meals with all four food groups represented, insisted they go to bed at a reasonable hour and why you wouldn't let them go out dressed as batman. It was for their own good.

Of course, if America doesn't see the error of its ways soon, it'll be too late. We are as a nation in the twilight of our existence and will soon be of no more importance to the global community than Belgium and Portugal - the national demise equivalent of senile dementia in old folks.

So in summary America, enjoy your craven mocking of our once great nation. Enjoy your silly St Patrick's day if you must, but chickens always come home to roost.

It'll be no use America begging us to re-house them and feed them when we're little more than a vegetated nation sat by a metaphorical window with soup on our cardigan.

I think you know what I'm trying to say.

Almost all the alcohol that has poisoned my system this past week has now been processed by my liver and I've just about stopped shaking enough now to type without spewing out yards of Welsh.

LLLLLLLLLady luck is an infrequent visitor to most people, but today she popped over and stayed a while. Not only did my horse win this morning, but the Spuds have just won, which means Arsenal will now remain in fourth spot.

It was an almost poetic victory. As bad as Totterington are, they were never really in any danger of being relegated because of the utter dross beneath them. So then the only real significant consequence of this result was that it has given Arsenal a huge boost in claiming the final Champions League place which is absolutely crucial for the very future of the club.


Considering Totterington's neanderthal support care more about Arsenal losing than their own club winning, one can't help but have a laugh at their expense. To make matters even worse for Villa's fans too, who, let's be fair to them, are located in one of the most unpleasant urban sprawls in the developed world, their next two fixtures are against Liverpool and Manchester United away! Arsenal on the other hand are up against Newcastle and Manchester City. Now anything can happen in those games of course, but I know who I'd rather be playing.

Finally, as we speak, I am three quarters of the way through a treble, which has seen Chelsea, Dinamo Zagreb and Grenoble already winning. We now need Standard Liege to win who are playing a team called Genk! I know nothing about Belgian football, but surely a team called Genk can't spoil such a lovely wager?


Religion now. I'm often threatened with an eternity spent in a fiery hell by weird Americans from the Bible belt when I offer an opinion or two on the literal meaning of God's word. I'm not the only one who's confused. Here a chap asks for clarification on one or two of God's laws:

For those few of you who may be unfamiliar with her, Dr. Laura Schlessinger is an abrasive conservative radio personality who dispenses advice to people who call in to her radio show. Recently she said, as an observant Orthodox Jew, that homosexuality is an abomination according to Leviticus 18:22 and cannot be condoned under any circumstance. The following is an open letter to Dr. Laura penned by a U.S. resident and posted on the Internet. It's funny, as well as informative:

Dear Dr. Laura:

Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's Law. I have learned a great deal from your show and try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination. End of debate.

I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some of the other specific laws and how to follow them.

1. When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odour for the Lord - Lev.1:9. The problem is my neighbours. They claim the odour is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?

2. I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?

3. I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness - Lev.15:19-24. The problem is, how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offence.

4. Lev. 25:44 states that I may indeed possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighbouring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?

5. I have a neighbour who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself?

6. A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination - Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this?

7. Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle room here?

8. Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev. 19:27. How should they die?

9. I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?

10. My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev. 19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? - Lev.24:10-16. Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev.20:14)

I know you have studied these things extensively, so I am confident you can help. Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is eternal and unchanging.

Your devoted disciple and adoring fan.

Jerry

A big thank you to Wino for the tip, but was such a heart stopping finish entirely necessary? My eyes haven't opened so wide with alarm and concern since you last told me a joke.

I've decided not to have a proper bet on the boxing tonight. I cain't work it out. Plus if I stare at my screen for longer than 5 minutes I feel queasy. I have had £5 at 65.0 for the draw though because that seems quite likely given all the shady circumstances surrounding this fight. I do hope Barrera wins though. I think we all owe him a debt of gratitude for knocking Naseem Hamed on his arse seven years ago.

I must get back to my grapes now. Good luck with all your bets.

Cheltenham done and dusted. All that remains are some very fragile race goers wondering what happened to the £5,000 they had in their pockets four days ago and already yellowing copies of the Racing Post stuck in hedgerows and fueling open fires.


I made a profit of £7.50 this festival, which is better than a kick in the bread tray. I've spent it already on some grapes, a bacon sandwich and a cup of coffee. Profits are gone, but my hang-over remains.

I haven't the focus to place any football bets today, but I have one outstanding which I think I backed yesterday; Man Utd v Liverpool Draw, Newcastle Win and Aston Villa v Totterington Draw.

I also have a horse running tomorrow, but I haven't backed it yet. I need to have more than 20% of my brain working before I can approach that one and put a rather cryptic clue on the blog as to its identity.

I now need to relax. I need to eat my grapes, watch my open fire place DVD and renew myself.

It's Gold Cup day and judging by the number of follically challenged men dressed in tweed aimlessley wandering about this region, the head scratching has been intense this year as the racing public strive to solve this irrististable mystery. Fortunately I've cracked it.

People think Denman ran such a poor race at Kempton because of his heart condition. He had a dodgy ticker, then ran a poor race; But oh no, this is just a case of the convenient but logical fallacy post hoc ergo propter hoc (after this, therefore because of this).

Putting two and two together like this rarely makes four. He was woeful because Paul Barber who joint-owns Denman is a Leo and February is the weakest month for Leos. I thought everyone knew this? He was doomed to failure.

Tomorrow's Gold Cup which will be run on Friday the 13th, and also be won by number 13. Neptune Collonges. Neptune rules Pisces, in February as the sun's momentum takes it into Pisces, Neptune Collonge has continually been driven across the line when racing while Neptune rules Pisces.

You can sit there with your silly form guides and your pencils and your biros and your thinking and logic and your silly tellys on which to watch your silly previous races, and you can wear your silly tweeds and have your silly chats about it all, but all of that pales into insignificance next to the power of the universe.

The essential arithmetic here people is that every time Neptune Collonges has raced during Pisces, which up to now in its lifetime has always been in February, but due to the procession of the equinoxes will now be in March, it has won. Ignore the dates they give you in Heat magazine, we're talking about the actual position of planets and stars duh.

This is further illustrated by his improvement in performances in the month of March; March 2006 - Unseated Rider, March 2007 - 8th, March 2008 - 3rd, March 2009 - Winner Cheltenham Gold Cup.

It is set. It is scripture. The universe does not know the meaning of the word barter. One cannot persuade it otherwise. It is written. The universe has decided, so shall it be. After this, therefore because of this and on this occasion it is no fallacy.

**Update: Oh soz, I got my equations wrong, I forgot to carry the one. No, it had no chance. I see what I did wrong now.

At first glance this contest looks quite intriguing, but by delving a little deeper, beneath the glossy veneer of the hype surrounding the fight, one uncovers the grim finish of a different picture altogether. One of ulterior motives and opportunism. It's no surprise Don King is the artist.

Here's what I think about this fight right, here's what I think....they both want a pay day. I think the Amir Khan people have realised that their man is in fact a bit rubbish and they need a pay day for him now elsewise he's going to take another ass whuppin to a relative nobody and be dumped in the domestic ranks for the whole of eternity fighting the likes of Willy "the anvil" O'Toole at Wakefield town hall.

By fighting a legend now while Khan still has people believing in his potential he can attract a big crowd, the Sky Box Office people and guarantee himself a pay day to set himself up for life. If he gets beat he has the excuse of being beaten by "a legend" therefore maintaining his exaggerated level of respect and affording him one more chance to prove himself. For Barrera it's a no lose proposition as he's guaranteed monies also as he's fighting someone who the boxing world is interested in and his own reputation is beyond reproach regardless of what happens as he is a seven time world champion.

I still think Barrera will win given that he's technically so much better, but Khan has the punchers chance as he's a lot bigger and stronger. Or a lot bigger anyway. It's definitely a fight I won't be paying to see, but given how partisan and stupid British fans are about these sorts of fights I think the even money on Barrera is well worth a few shillings.

I wish I'd waited a day or two before drowning my chihuahuas now as they were big fans of Barrera's. I'd forgotten the fight was on though you see. I'll have to trust my own instincts on this one.

**Update: I'm now wondering if I haven't just ignored my own concerns about this fight's credibility. I'm now wondering if perhaps a Khan win on points after being outclassed for 12 rounds might be the most likely outcome. I don't think I'll have a bet actually, this fight smells worse than one of my trouser coughs after I've been eating beetroot.

A very disappointing day. It all started so well with Crescent Island placing in the first, but through a combination of some dodgy riding and bad luck, the final four races were much like sex for conjoined twins, one cock, one cunt and fucked twice. Or something.

There's a camphor wood chest filled with seven chihuahua sinking to the bottom of the river Windrush as we speak.

However, there is just enough air left in the chest for them to survive until their darts and football selections come to fruition this evening at which point I will retrieve them.

Should they fail however, I'm afraid it's asphyxia for all of them. The remaining wagers of their tiny lives are: Barney/Part double and a UEFA cup treble; Dinamo Kiev, PSG and Werder Bremen.
.

My head is starting to clear a bit now and my appetite returning, I'm almost ready for solids. My Chihuahua's have been quietly working away while I convalesced today and despite a poor series of selections for day 2 of the festival, they assure me that tomorrow's efforts will include some big priced winners and secure a profitable week for us.

So anyway, without further ado our awesome selections for Day 3 are as follows:

Race 1. Crescent Island e/w (40/1) also Au Courant e/w (24.0 on Betfair)
Race 2. Ballydub (10/1) and Synchronised (10/1)
Race 3. Tidal Bay (8.2 on Betfair) NAP
Race 4. Fair Along (16.0 on betfair) possibly if I'm feeling cheeky enough, also a reverse forecast with Kasbah Bliss (11/10).

Good luck with all your bets.

A crucial Champions League game that will now culminate in a penalty shoot-out is really not what the doctor ordered given that I have a brutal hang-over. I feel most sick.

I don't think you can argue with any of that despite the fact that the names came to me either in a dream or were formed in some of my bowls of tomato soup last weekend.

These aren't tips of course.

Have a read of this story from Australia about a Kangaroo going mental in someone's home: Here. They want us to believe a kangaroo jumped through their bedroom window for no apparent reason and started jumping up and down on the woman, again for no apparent reason?

Am I the only one who feels this couple is being economical with the truth? It seems obvious to me they've tried to involve a Kangaroo in their sex games and they've got it so randy that it's become uncontrollable. We've all been there. It's one of the inherent dangers of involving animals. I bet they didn't even put socks on it's paws. pffft, amateurs.

So I says to myself a few days ago I says, I says Rich, if you win on Sunday get yourself to Vegas. I've only chopped the tournament three ways haven't I. My poker sweater worked a treat. It's got an 'R' on the front. R for Richard see.

So anyway, we've taken £900 each and I've also won £24 cause Chico's game with O'Higgins in the Chilean Premier League was canceled giving me some sort of refund on a bet I thought was a loser. I can't miss.

So of course the question now is not shall I go, but when shall I go. And it's this question I'll be considering this week along with where to stay and how many packets of ginger nut biscuits I should take with me.

If anyone dares to suggest I don't take a scientific enough approach to my sports betting I think this weekend's double on Argentine football should be evidence enough that my research is as thorough and methodical as anybody else's:

It's a corking bet and brings a whole new meaning to inside information. The first line came in last night when L'Anus beat Newells Old Boys. The second line kicks off tonight in a few minutes and features Colon v Banfield.

Tee hee - L'Anus and Colon. I'm giggling as I type this. It pays £180! What can one do with teams named after body parts that produce shit but lump on surely?

Cheltenham in many ways is a lot like making love to an ugly woman - it happens when you're very drunk and afterwards you wonder why you bothered. So with that in mind, I've decided not to take this year's festival too seriously with a view to making it to Friday without an empty wallet and without a crushing sense of depression requiring weeks of counselling and oral sex.

These are very funny in my opinion. I actually got nervous watching these for the guy pulling the prank. Apparently these two guys have been going at this prank war for years.

Listen up Americans...now that you've fucked us with your greed and silly banking behaviour I don't want to hear any more of this shit about how we'd all be speaking German if it wasn't you for.

First of all, we wouldn't because you're shit at war - you've never won one on your own - and you only involved yourselves in the second world war when it became apparent that the Germans had no idea how to cross the channel and we would eventually prevail because there is an inherent awesomeness about the English, but more than that - even if you did save us...I'd much rather speak German than Chinese. I'd much rather drink beer served by a buxom wench than tea served in little thimble. I'd be much more comfortable driving a BMW than a rickshaw and I'd definitely be happier living in a home made of bricks than some thing built out of 200 sheets of A4 paper and I think you would too.

Because of your utter greed, because you weren't happy with being the richest country in the galaxy you wanted more and more - Because of this you let the tiny percentage of your population who could actually think for themselves lead you into a supposed promise land much like Moses, but they weren't Moses were they, they were greedy bastards who were only interested in gold plating their taps.

Now you've fucked us all. Because there was no promised land, there was just an arid desert of nothingness. A sandy poverty if you will that you've condemned us all to die in. The chinky chonks now own us all and with their impossible language and even more impossible written language, we have no hope of survival.

Because of your complete refusal to accept that you are not in fact awesome, the western world will now have to wear pyjamas and eat their food with sticks. I hope you're fucking satisfied. Speaking German? Bah,...that's easy. Try saying where's all my money gone in Chinese, you'll choke yourself on your own tongue.

I've said me piece I'll bid you good day.

My awesome letterman sweater arrived today. It's 15-20% more awesome than I had expected. I'm going to make it my official poker sweater as soon as I've addressed the funny smell. I pity the fool who tries to steal my blinds when I'm wearing this baby.

I'm thinking of asking for my money back on my chihuahuas. Some of the bets they've come up with today are surprising to say the least. Maybe it's jet lag, maybe it's the chili con carne I made for them, but whatever the source of these selections I'm not expecting a return. I must show some faith in them though and have placed one or two wagers which require Phil Taylor to lose or draw and Jelle Klaasen to win. Crazy stuff.

I was just about set about my fleet of monkeys with a rusty axe for being so wide of the mark with their predictions, but two late goals in Birmingham and Edinburgh has afforded them all a stay of execution.

Our treble (Birmingham, Hearts and Rennes) came in putting us marginally ahead for the week with a darts wager outstanding. I'm also in a joyous mood as Villa losing is wonderful news for Arsenal as qualification for the Champions League is vital people. Vital!

My confidence in them however has taken a hit and with Cheltenham only a few days away I can't afford to take any chances. Therefore I have taken the decision to fly in a squad of prognosticating Chihuahua from Mexico. My monkey's will be giving light duties and will paper trade until my confidence in them is restored.