Day in the life of a professional gambler ...

[The Silk Run]

Wake up early after a good sleep. 3am alarm, have to be ready for a great betting opportunity. Log into Betfair and see who’s been talking about me over the last 45 minutes since I went to bed.
After I've hurled abuse at Cark Longer I’m feeling good; really told the c*nt, he’s got no answer to me and can’t even reply. Poorpat tells me Cark went to bed 3 hours ago. I must have scared him off with my wit and repartee.
Why is my Betfair balance reading nil, I thought I’d put 6k in yesterday? I check my credit card, to find I’d deposited £6 not 6k, my mistake. The message on the cards account reads "remaining funds available zero". Luckily I have a second credit card, there's loads left on this one because I withdrew thousands to it from Piddy Power.
I deposit the remaining £6.99 to Betfair making a note to find out what happened to my Piddy Power withdrawn funds and place the whole lot on Leicester to win the Premiership at 5000-1. The possible win on Betfair shows as 42p but that must be a market anomaly. It was 5000-1 the last time I looked so I will sort the computer glitch later. I have £196k big ones in the bank come the end of the season for just £6.99. Genius.
I’ve got the game by the balls, so I post this to my followers and advise them to take the price on Leicester. Several people on the forum call me a prck, but they are only jealous because they have missed the value. The price is in free fall and now Leicester are just 1.06 to win the league. The bookies are running scared and are obviously watching my every move.
I write on the fridge using my big plastic learning letters “Buck haliday with prophet”
I’m just finishing my super food breakfast of Coco Pops and Haribo as I like to keep in shape, when there's knock at the door. My chauffeur Dave is here. I just have time to post on the forum that we are off catch a flight to the Breeders Cup.
I pull on my fur lined designer rubber boots and ask Dave to grab my Coco Chanel crocodile holdall. I tell him to be careful with it as Coco gave it to me as a present last year for my birthday. Dave is bemused because he thought Coco had died a few years ago but I put him right.
We set off for the Youth Hostel where we are fitting a kitchen, as we drive in the Transit I see a horse in a field and inform Dave it's Shergar at stud. Dave thinks Shergar is dead as well, clearly he knows nothing. After a few minutes Dave asks if I can smell pish, I tell him it’s probably from a threesome I had last night with some Norwegian students that liked watersports. He enjoys my story of how I shagged them solid for 10 hours and forgets about the smell.
We stop to pick up a Racing Post and a sausage roll. Dave tells me to give it a rest about speed figures and asks me why I didn’t know anything about pace until I’d read Topspeed? What a losing tw@t he is, I pick out a horse for him that's running in France called "Non Coureur" and a Bulgarian 2nd Division football treble that should pay loads. He buys some air freshener and we set off.
We arrive at the hostel, I’ve brought the wrong screwdrivers, I need a saw too, but I make do with a hammer and some Velcro, all’s good in the end and it’s a top job. I take some pictures.
The site foreman kicks me off the job and tells me I know jack sh*t about fitting kitchens. What does he know? I’ve been through a kitchen every day of my life and my best friend Jamie says I do a mean Ciabatta. As I head off I check my emails to see if Jamie has replied to my question about microwaving an egg.
On the bus back I call my hot girlfriend. She tells me she’ll see me tomorrow as she has a vacancy in her diary but wants cash this time because the last fcking cheque I gave her has bounced. It must be an administrative error, so I tell her I’ll speak to my broker and get some funds moved from the offshore account.
I reassure her I’ve got several million in the bank and that my pension will buy Necker Island; she seems ok with this and asks if I will be coming over in the Ferrari or in the battered old van? I have to remind her that I lent the Ferrari to my mate Lewis so it will to be the van. She says she is really looking forward to seeing the Ferrari one day.
I suggest using my motorbike but the last time we went on it she said it was a bit small and my @rse kept pushing her off the back. I told her the AP50 was a superbike built for speed not passengers, but she still charged me an extra 50 quid for the dry cleaning and tearing her tights.
Never mind, I book an hour, she tells me to make sure I’ve had a shower this time because her sheets still smell of pish. It’s not my fault that the shower on my yacht was broken but I tell her if it’s still not working I'll hop in the the Jacuzzi. She reminds me to bring cash or I can fck off. She loves me and wants my body, I know it. I promise to take her some leather plastic shoes as a gift.
I get back to the penthouse. Someone has nailed up my entrance and stuck a big red eviction notice up. The guy next door has obviously not paid his bills and they’ve sealed up the wrong apartment. I decide to push my way past the tramps in the stairwell and head over to local Laddies to see the Manager I know. He welcomes me like an old friend and then writes me out some hot tips he’s just picked out using a dart, he even gives me a free 3p treble on the cartoon racing. I hand over my last £20 in the knowledge that I will be loaded by the end of the day.
All of my bets lose by a nose as it's all b ent but some bloke in the bookies lands a 20p four timer. The four odds on shots pay a fantastic 2 million quid. Really pleased for the lad he’s got 9 kids a dog and a limp. Proper bloke. I get a free coffee and the cashier winks at me. I’ll have her later, she thinks I'm fit.
I decide to eat dinner at the best restaurant in town. I always leave a big tip for the staff who worship me and call me sir. One of the hot blonds that fancies me runs over and says I’ve won a free diet coke or a small portion of fries on the Monopoly promotion; it just shows that when your luck’s in it just keeps coming. I say goodbye to the man disinfecting and head off.
I have time to pop and see my brother to borrow a tenner. I’ve missed him by seconds as he’s gone for a jog but I’m told he’ll be back after he’s done the 26 mile run in 15 mins. I decide not to wait as time is money and head back to the penthouse.
As I walk home the ex-wife rings my mobile, she wants her 2 years of unpaid maintenance money which has gone missing in a banking error. I tell her the cheque’s in the post. I know she still wants me even though she’s living with a Bosnian ballet dancer. As she puts the phone down I hear her calling one of the kids a “fckn useless tard”.
After breaking into my penthouse and rewiring the leccy through next doors fuse box I log into Betfair.
I put some Vaseline on the burn I got when doing the rewiring and realise it looks like a bullet that has skimmed my arm. I tell my Betfair friends about the time I got shot in the Crimean War.
All of my bets today lost and the acca went down to a last minute penalty and even though the other legs lost it was a near miss. I can't find the French horse but it turns out to be a non-runner so "steaks" back. But hey I’m in luck! One horse I read about in the paper has won and I’m pretty sure I thought about sending all of my mates out to get 10k on around the shops, so I’m well up!! I share the good fortune with my Betfair buddies who are pleased for me.
I let the forum know what a great winning day I’ve had. I’ve fitted a Kitchen, been to the Breeders Cup, shagged loads of women, had great food, rewired my house and won a fortune. Life is good even if the war wound is playing up.
That c*nt Dapey Donut tells me I’m a fantasist so I post my 5000-1 bet on Leicester and a picture of my hot girlfriend from the Argos catalogue. He pretends to laugh at me but I know he’s impressed. I go to get a beer from the fridge.
The fridge is empty as my maid is away but I see my own note from earlier on the door. Someone has re-arranged it to read “stupid fckwit”, however being a genius I can instantly turn this into “book holiday”.
I gather up the Sun newspapers from around the bedsit to cut out the coupons and dig around down the back of the sofa until I get the quid I need. Bonus time, there’s a piece of Hawaiian pizza stuck to one of the cushions.
I book my 5 star all-inclusive holiday flying into Honolulu and staying on Waikiki beach in the best room available and let the losers on Betfair know how lucky they are to have my tips but sadly they will have to find their own because I will be in Hawaii for a month.
It’s been a busy day; tomorrow I have a hot date and an appointment with my tailor in preparation for my Knighthood. The Queen has personally nominated me for my donations to charity so I’ll get an early night just in case she wants to shag me.
As I climb into bed my new girlfriend slides in beside me. I’m glad I upgraded her to the deluxe model with the realistic hair. As I drift off to sleep, I wonder if the hair will detach so that I can wear it myself when I go to see the Queen. I dream about shagging Liz and a corgi in a threesome.
It’s not easy being a pro ...

[megarain]

Quite easily the most inciteful and lucid post this forum (or any forum) has ever seen.

You are wasted as a pro.

[Kai]

Copypasta meme?

Not read it but it's apparently a repost from 2016 from the Betfair forum, according to a Google search.

[Euler]

I read a small amount and thought it was a copy and paste from a sales pitch for some online course or something.

[The Silk Run]

I thought it was absolutely hilarious, glad you all agree

[megarain]

I thought the health breakfast of Coco Pops and Haribo was genius - have never understood who would eat Haribo - either the marketing is mesmerizing or I am missing something.

[Kai]

I thought the health breakfast of Coco Pops and Haribo was genius - have never understood who would eat Haribo - either the marketing is mesmerizing or I am missing something.

I've often enjoyed Haribo as a child, and sometimes still do as a man-child

[wearthefoxhat]

I thought the health breakfast of Coco Pops and Haribo was genius - have never understood who would eat Haribo - either the marketing is mesmerizing or I am missing something.

I've often enjoyed Haribo as a child, and sometimes still do as a man-child

Something about midget gems for me.

gems.png

[Trader Pat]

Every time I see or hear the word 'Haribo' it reminds me of an ex girlfriends best mate who went out with a guy who worked for Haribo. Easily the most boring person I've ever met, he could sit in a pub and talk for an hour about starmix and how it was made!' He was only 22!

Shame is this girl was beautiful and had a really nice personality and she was considering dumping him but then got pregnant and ended up marrying him. What a waste!

Particularly tough on the kids I'd imagine as not only was dad boring but both mammy and daddy were gingers! Double whammy

[The Silk Run]

Have you tried the new luxury Kitkat range, it's fab. My little sister bought a pack for GBP 180

[wearthefoxhat]

Have you tried the new luxury Kitkat range, it's fab. My little sister bought a pack for GBP 180

The cherry bakewell ones sounds exceedingly good...

[Adaliealt]

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[Swamidee]

This is mad.. someone got hold of my diary!
(except the van bit, of course)