Even the great ones slip from time to time

I recently heard a wonderful story involving a well know Dublin poker player and MILF. Our hero, we’ll call him Tom (not necessarily his real name), was visiting Jamaica for the cricket world cup with a small group of friends. The group had booked into a holiday complex that was primarily a family resort. On day 4 while Hanlon and one of his travelling companions were descending the apartment block in the elevator, toms mate commented that there was a lot of MILF around. It was here that our hero made 2 mistakes, the first was a simple one that anyone might make, he asked what MILF was. The second mistake was far greater and absolutely unforgivable, he accredited his friend with far too much imagination and leapt to the wild assumption that he had made up the acronym MILF, and he loved it, it was their little secret.

This, of course, lead to the inevitable result of Mr T(om) standing in the middle of the pool a couple of hours later pointing at a very attractive young mother and yelling across to his mate,
“Hughie, MILF, MILF”, resulting in the entire crowded of about 100 people around the pool area falling into a complete and deeply shocked silence, broken only by the voice of an 8 year old girl asking "Mammy ,mammy, whats MILF?". As the light started to dawn on our hero, visions of an angry husband, police and having to pay a large cash fine to a local Jamaican magistrate filled his mind. But not our hero, lucky bastard that he is, he managed to pick a woman with a sense of humour, proving without doubt, I feel, that he is indeed the luckiest man alive, she simple stopped, looked at him for a few awkward moments and said,

“Yes, I do look good, don’t I”, and walked on proudly

At which every person in the vicinity roared with laugher. Tom regards the walk from the middle of the pool, through the crowd of people rolling around with tears running down his face to get to his towel as one of the longest of his life.

I suppose Tom was fortunate to have a group of friends with him that I am sure consoled him in his time of great embarrassment and who, he was sure, would abide by the credo ‘What happens in Jamaica stays in Jamaica”

Merry Christmas to all.

Just thought I would give you a quick report on the league final in the Eglinton, which was held on the 20th, please forgive the delay but just for my own piece of mind I had to embark on a rather perilous journey which involved some heavy duty mining equipment and a lot of digging, but i am glad to report that Hell has indeed frozen over. So baring this in mind I give my heartiest and unreserved congratulations to Dave "Mid-life Crises" Curtis.

I have no idea who else made up the top positions as I was only at the final table for a few brief moments, just long enough for Christy The Morbid to crack my Queens, and it’s a hard pill to swallow getting knocked out by someone that isn’t even there, and I know he couldn’t have been there, because the little trouble making shit kicker is barred. After that I was far to drunk to care what happen, actually I probably wouldn’t have known Curtis won the damn thing but for the fact that he spent the remainder of the night wandering around the club drink beer from the oversized trophy he got and singing “I am the Champions”. It’s at times like that you find yourself thinking, where’s a cataclysmic event when you need one.

But truth be told it was a cracker of an evening, with booze, some free money and as much gambling as any man could want. I mean where can you have so much fun for €3000 a night.

Anyway, I hope you all had a great Christmas and New Year.

I hope to be covering events live from the IPC, so please by all means keep an eye on the blog for updates.

And We're Back.

I have decided to move back to this blog as i never really felt comfortable writing under a different name. But it is Wednesday night again and we will be bringing you the trills and spills live from the €100 freezeout at the Eglinton Club. League points is all people are concerned with at the moment, with only 7 days remaining to get points to make the top fifty and gain entry into the €10000 tournament at the clubs Christmas party, rumor has it that money has actually changed hand to get someone who has scored points to give in a different name to the person tracking the points, seems a little sad to me, I really can't understand what all the fuss is about. And of course with the IPC just around the corner, tickets are the other thing at the forefront of everybodies mind. I tell ya, you could cut the tension around here with a spoon, big time poker is coming to the Galway, the men of the west are so nervous, there is nare a banjo being played and the sheep are fierce lonely. I for one am keen to see how many will make the long arduous journey from that smallest of english counties we call Dublin, I realise the even looking in a westerly direction makes some of the natives of this strange and often magical land go weak at the knees and the actual trip itself seems more daunting the scaling Everest, but lets keep our fingers crossed.

Just going to head into the club now so I'll be back soon.

Ok, since we last spoke, I have won a sat for the tourney and got myself onto a table with the craziest shower of bastards to come down the pipe. The Flying Dutchman to my left, Frank" I can't stop the voices" Healyto my right and Vinny Longlad looking straight across from me. God help us all.

And The Flying Dutchman has sank without a trace just 15 mins into the tournament. The voices in Franks head must have all screamed call in unison when Dutchy when all in on a stone cold bluff.

Oh dear, oh dear, the Longlad is gone, after losing most of his chips on some ass end up read, he launched the rest with 88 and ran into AA. If this keeps up there will be none of the top players left.