How exciting was the Grand National the other day – horses everywhere running very fast as then being shot and turned into glue at the end of it. Short men in brightly coloured vest, so that you can see then clearly and don’t accidently step on them. Women with no class being paraded around the paddock, trotting around in their high heels and showing off their dresses which demonstrated ever so well that money doesn’t buy you a sense of taste or decency.
And then the winner turned out to be a wild card – the real 100: 1 deal. I have decided that this means that I must immediately start betting on things that have a hundred to one shot. Like it not raining the one day in April that I have left my umbrella at home. (man I think I just made a weather joke – I must be ill) It just goes to show that the universe likes a good round number as much as anyone else – none of this unpoetic 7:2 each way shit.
Perhaps I should now therefore be more sympathetic to things that had seemed like the ‘long shot’ beforehand. For example the chance of me not eating all 6 crème eggs on my desk in the next hour and a half and then vomiting heartily in the toilets at work.
And then the winner turned out to be a wild card – the real 100: 1 deal. I have decided that this means that I must immediately start betting on things that have a hundred to one shot. Like it not raining the one day in April that I have left my umbrella at home. (man I think I just made a weather joke – I must be ill) It just goes to show that the universe likes a good round number as much as anyone else – none of this unpoetic 7:2 each way shit.
Perhaps I should now therefore be more sympathetic to things that had seemed like the ‘long shot’ beforehand. For example the chance of me not eating all 6 crème eggs on my desk in the next hour and a half and then vomiting heartily in the toilets at work.
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