The Evil Bloke
i havent been to my local bookies shop in ages. why sould i, they still charge 3% tax so i bet online instead. the other reason is i dont want to bump into 'The Evil Bloke' or 'Yer Man With The Eyes'. when i was unemployed for a short spell about 9 years back in the days of the board markers i used to frequent the bookies quite often and spent many afternoons waiting to pick my spot to have one good bet on the proper horse. i was like one of thoze zen monks lying on a mountain all day with bow and arrow waiting to take that one shot.
its funny the types of charachters you come across in bookies shops. ive always nicknamed charachters that i dont know names of so this fella fit the title of the evil bloke perfectly. he looks very like this young rough unshaven Jack Nicholson. no more than 9 stone but has that menacing look. i first seen him a many years earlier giving his girlfriend a few slaps in a malahide pub i used go to. but years later i knew his as one of the regulars in the bookies. we were there so often we knew each other to see but i always kept to myself and tried to avoid conversation with him if i could. however i was the first to instigate conversation with him when the second favourite which i backed with confidence one afternoon won and he was stood beside me as i funked my horse up the straight to victory. i had a brief conversation with him in my euphoria about the race and he told me 'fair fcuks to you for backing him against the favourite'. from then on the evil bloke commisioned me one of his 'bookie buddies'. from then on whenever i came into the bookies the evil bloke would come over and tell me about his winning selections and his picks for today, always winning hundreds of course!. he was always unshaven and smelled like he hadnt showered in days, looked like a fella that drank infinately more than he ate. always stories about winning hundreds here and there and horses letting him down on a huge accumilators. the evil bloke never spoke of a horse by name it was always "i backed the top one" or "the the third one". sometimes he would drag me over to the paper on the wall to point out his selection. it was around this time that i was convinced the evil bloke was illeterate. he was no dummy though and he knew the colour of money and i seen him talk in sign with a deaf bloke that was connected to him and made the odd appearence in the bookies.
i went into the bookies one morning for the early prices and the evil bloke came over to me as i was looking at the morning prices looking like he was on the tail end of a 3 day bender as usual. as much as i didnt want to be associated with the evil bloke i used to enjoy the snippets of conversation we had. when i say conversation i mean he spoke and i listened. this is the beauty of bookie buddies, they always want to talk about their tribulations and never listen to you or ask your opinion or anything about you. you just have to stand as you look as the papers and give the occasional nod to let them know youre still listening. looking at them as they speak isnt the done thing. its best to keep busy looking ahead and going about your business giving the occasional nod or 'yeah'. so the evil bloke is telling me about the kicking he gave to this bloke outside a niteclub. apparently in an earlier scuffle inside the club some bloke overturned a table full of the evil bloke and companions drink. the evil bloke told me as the this guy lay prone on the ground after the beating he took the blokes wallet out and took out the amount of money the drinks cost and put his wallet back. with that the evil bloke started coocheee cuuuing a young child in a buggy nearby as his concerned father nervously acknowledged the unkempt evil blokes coochee cuuing.
later on that day i had a nice win and somehow the evil bloke took credit for tipping me the winner which he totally didnt. before the race he just spoke his usual garbled something about a few horses in the race. anyway i collected my winnings and took the short stroll to the barbers to get my hair cut. on leaving the barbers i bumped into rooney an old school buddy and we decided to go to the pub attached to the bookies for a quick drink to talk about old times. when we got there i was greeted by the evil bloke who took the piss out of me that i ran off after giving me a winning tip and didnt as much as say 'nice one'. i disagreed while rooney looked a bit nervous at the appearence of the evil bloke but more because i even knew this charachter. there was no way of shaking the evil bloke so i got him in a pint of guiness as he continued to take the piss out of me to rooney in a jocular way that i was a bit of a tight git. as myself and rooney took our first few sips from our pints i looked across at the evil blokes glass and his guinness was all gone. thats how you know you are in the presence of a real drinker when you dont notice them taking a sip and their glass is empty. i went to offer the evil bloke another but he spotted an old man with a stick come in that he recognised and he rushed over and there seemed to be a bit of a cufuffle and with that he was gone. rooney asked me what the hell he was all about and we had a right laugh on the way home because rooney was convinced it was a sting on himself that the evil bloke and i were in on!!.
i havent been to my local bookies shop in ages. why sould i, they still charge 3% tax so i bet online instead. the other reason is i dont want to bump into 'The Evil Bloke' or 'Yer Man With The Eyes'. when i was unemployed for a short spell about 9 years back in the days of the board markers i used to frequent the bookies quite often and spent many afternoons waiting to pick my spot to have one good bet on the proper horse. i was like one of thoze zen monks lying on a mountain all day with bow and arrow waiting to take that one shot.
its funny the types of charachters you come across in bookies shops. ive always nicknamed charachters that i dont know names of so this fella fit the title of the evil bloke perfectly. he looks very like this young rough unshaven Jack Nicholson. no more than 9 stone but has that menacing look. i first seen him a many years earlier giving his girlfriend a few slaps in a malahide pub i used go to. but years later i knew his as one of the regulars in the bookies. we were there so often we knew each other to see but i always kept to myself and tried to avoid conversation with him if i could. however i was the first to instigate conversation with him when the second favourite which i backed with confidence one afternoon won and he was stood beside me as i funked my horse up the straight to victory. i had a brief conversation with him in my euphoria about the race and he told me 'fair fcuks to you for backing him against the favourite'. from then on the evil bloke commisioned me one of his 'bookie buddies'. from then on whenever i came into the bookies the evil bloke would come over and tell me about his winning selections and his picks for today, always winning hundreds of course!. he was always unshaven and smelled like he hadnt showered in days, looked like a fella that drank infinately more than he ate. always stories about winning hundreds here and there and horses letting him down on a huge accumilators. the evil bloke never spoke of a horse by name it was always "i backed the top one" or "the the third one". sometimes he would drag me over to the paper on the wall to point out his selection. it was around this time that i was convinced the evil bloke was illeterate. he was no dummy though and he knew the colour of money and i seen him talk in sign with a deaf bloke that was connected to him and made the odd appearence in the bookies.
i went into the bookies one morning for the early prices and the evil bloke came over to me as i was looking at the morning prices looking like he was on the tail end of a 3 day bender as usual. as much as i didnt want to be associated with the evil bloke i used to enjoy the snippets of conversation we had. when i say conversation i mean he spoke and i listened. this is the beauty of bookie buddies, they always want to talk about their tribulations and never listen to you or ask your opinion or anything about you. you just have to stand as you look as the papers and give the occasional nod to let them know youre still listening. looking at them as they speak isnt the done thing. its best to keep busy looking ahead and going about your business giving the occasional nod or 'yeah'. so the evil bloke is telling me about the kicking he gave to this bloke outside a niteclub. apparently in an earlier scuffle inside the club some bloke overturned a table full of the evil bloke and companions drink. the evil bloke told me as the this guy lay prone on the ground after the beating he took the blokes wallet out and took out the amount of money the drinks cost and put his wallet back. with that the evil bloke started coocheee cuuuing a young child in a buggy nearby as his concerned father nervously acknowledged the unkempt evil blokes coochee cuuing.
later on that day i had a nice win and somehow the evil bloke took credit for tipping me the winner which he totally didnt. before the race he just spoke his usual garbled something about a few horses in the race. anyway i collected my winnings and took the short stroll to the barbers to get my hair cut. on leaving the barbers i bumped into rooney an old school buddy and we decided to go to the pub attached to the bookies for a quick drink to talk about old times. when we got there i was greeted by the evil bloke who took the piss out of me that i ran off after giving me a winning tip and didnt as much as say 'nice one'. i disagreed while rooney looked a bit nervous at the appearence of the evil bloke but more because i even knew this charachter. there was no way of shaking the evil bloke so i got him in a pint of guiness as he continued to take the piss out of me to rooney in a jocular way that i was a bit of a tight git. as myself and rooney took our first few sips from our pints i looked across at the evil blokes glass and his guinness was all gone. thats how you know you are in the presence of a real drinker when you dont notice them taking a sip and their glass is empty. i went to offer the evil bloke another but he spotted an old man with a stick come in that he recognised and he rushed over and there seemed to be a bit of a cufuffle and with that he was gone. rooney asked me what the hell he was all about and we had a right laugh on the way home because rooney was convinced it was a sting on himself that the evil bloke and i were in on!!.
posted by Rounders123 at Monday, October 17, 2005
1 Comments:
Great post!
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