The Challenge I Couldn’t Reject...

Back in the good old days, you know, the care free student days, the days of Call of Duty all nighters, drunken evenings in the SU bar and when fine dining meant pasta for breakfast, lunch and dinner, working out for me was not just a past time, it wasn’t a hobby, it was a way of life, it was embedded in my routine. I loved any form of physical activity and participated in anything that was thrown my way. Boxing, gymnastics, football...just show me a sport and I’d partake in it, show me a tree and I’d climb it. And anything could set my passion alight, a TV show (last man standing) a movie (Rocky) or even a randomly placed obstacle in the middle of the street.

Probably at the height of my fitness (lol, at the matching belt and laces)

However since those glory days, life has caught up with me and time constraints have found a way to eat into my recreational activities ever decreasing the time available to participate in the hobbies, which I loved and cherished and that contributed to so much of my personality and character.

Alas, that all changed on an alcohol fueled September evening. On this evening whilst innocently sipping a caprinha with a friend, I was blindsided, taken from behind, kicked in the nuts, insulted some may say!

Whilst puffing my chest out and proudly bragging about my previous exploits in the fitness arena, the medals I had won, the goals I had scored, the acrobatics I did effortlessly, she told me that she couldn’t believe it and that she would never have assumed I could have been serious about working out AND that she is more of a gym person than I could ever be!…That was the last straw! *flashing lights* masculinity challenged! Now this conversation got more excitable and heated until we agreed a challenge. A challenge that would demonstrate not only physical strength, but strength of character, of commitment, of persistence and ultimately of self-motivation AND that would most importantly make her eat her words!

The gauntlet had been set, the guillotine had been weighted and stabilised! Whoever attends the gym the most each week gets a point, the person with the most points by Easter Monday wins! Wins what you ask, Wins a....

Now I am used to competing in sportsman’s bets, whereby the winner takes home bragging rights or man points or if a financial reward was at stake, it would be no more than a pound or a pint at a Weatherspoons (of which my “friends would never pay, citing hard times as an excuse”).

But wow, how the stakes have been raised, how the ante has being elevated. I have stepped into the big leagues with this one. As the delicate cocktail glasses crashed against the sturdy mahogany table, I realised I had helplessly meandered into deep water, drifting out to sea like a lonely can of cider at Blackpool Beach, tossed by a pubescent teenager whilst having it large on a Friday night. Then instantly with an intoxicated handshake the wager was set.

Before....

After

If losing ones masculinity wasn’t enough, Financial ruin was also on the cards…for the person who wins the most points and is victorious in this battle of will wins a luxury holiday to…. Santorini. Flight and hotel included! I hope she has an application read to apply for a pay day loan because in the infamous words of Nas "I WILL NOT LOSE!". 

Game on! The beast has been awoken! Fyi at the time of writing the score is 3 weeks to 1 in my favour! Lets do this! 

The Time The House Lost...

You know that song by T.O.K ”I just got paid and I got a little money to burn” yeah that one, well it was definitely not the theme song of my life at this moment. I was over worked, under paid, over stressed and under laid. Ha-ha, it wasn't that bad, but you get my point.

Anyway I decided that my next get rich quick scheme (I’ve had quite a few of these in my time) would be to gamble! Like nobody has ever thought of that before! Anyway, I consulted my finances, got out a pad and pen, liaised with my trusty friend Google and had a lunch with a friend (a real one) that is a pretty big gambler, a gambler that I’ve seen walk away from a bookies with more cash then the average dude makes in a month of hard labour, (working for a boss that doesn’t like him and a girlfriend that is dissatisfied at his futile attempts to please her) in just 5 minutes flat... I was in good company.

We conversed about the dogs, horses, roulette, football, odds, evens and all kinds of other crap I couldn’t be bothered to remember. But one thing was for certain, he was the real deal and he knew his stuff.

Having finished our conversation, I left upbeat and in high spirits, having made a note of all his formulas and secrets to win big at the casino and got on the train with my over loaded backpack for my 90 minute commute back to the heart of London, which was delayed due to a signal failure at Finchley road, god damit. A crash back to reality. Oh, the joys of London transport,  Compelled even more when you don’t get a seat.

I digress, fast forward a fortnight and I am ready, I'm prepared, I've read everything I need to read and practised everything I need to practise.  Now all I need is silence, I turn on my laptop and log into William Hill ready to make a killing. I tell everyone in my presence that I need silence and not to disturb me,

Roulette is my weapon of choice, and I play with £20, that’s my agreed limit. I’ve gone in with a clean head on my shoulders, first spin, £10 down, god damit, but I keep the faith and stick to the strategy. Before you know it I’ve got £50…. Then £20…then £60 and then...it happened, I raised the stakes, putting £5 on each number. I thought YOLO (does anyone even say that any more?).  I got to £200 then £300 then £700…£700 from 20 friggin quid…. then I said in dell boy fashion, to myself “this time tomorrow Rodney, we’ll be millionaires” the excitement was too much I put £25 on each number, If my number came in I would win at least £25 x 36 from just twenty quid! get your calculators out, that’s serious cash. I had most of the table covered. I was sure to win. I almost wet myself. My mind flashed to this scene in American Dad, I was gonna make it "rain on dem H**s".

Then I thought to myself …wait, what!?  £25 on each number...I looked at the balance and realised I had almost £500 on the table! £500! What the f**k! I came to my senses and tried to remove the money...no response …then to my horror...BETS CLOSED! God dammit, I could only wait with baited breath as the ball danced delicately across the vanished spindle, to the sound of my irregular heartbeats. Tick..Tick…tick…tick…