My dad is very good at playing the lottery, he wins a tenner every now and then. After his latest victory of two wins of £10 after buying ten tickets (for the mathematically retarded---> that is equal to a £10 profit), I suddenly thought... Maybe I have the lottery winning gene!!! This realisation was swiftly followed by another: I am poor - so poor, in fact, that i'm now even poorer than my mum! Now I know what you're thinking, "Paul, you can't possibly be that poor. Your mum is the poorest person on the planet, she uses cheese as a deodarant". But trust me, I am very poor.
So I decided to limit myself to playing the lottery 5 times - £5. Within 10 minutes, my Online National Lottery account was set up, into which i'd transferred £5 from my bank (it really was too easy). Within 10 days, my lottery account balance was down to £1, and my winnings so far? Bugger all. This wouldn't have been so bad, were it not for the fact that i'd started spending money as if I had already got my imaginary winnings (e.g. sausages at Summer Sundae, Cadbury's Snack bars, William Hut CD's, a penis tattoo).
My spirits were low. The stress of knowing that I must win with my final £1 was overpowering me, and the big decision of which 6 numbers to select was looming. It was monday the 14th of August, so I targeted the saturday 19th draw... this would be my d-day (the 'd' standing for 'donut', my traditional celebratory food). I calmed myself, and I fell quickly asleep after a particularly painful self-sex session (it hurt so bad that I may as well have used a crocodile to stimulate it, but hell, my penis has "THE COMMODORE" tattooed on it - maybe I should've given him a shorter nickname, 'cause the tattooist couldn't fit it in a straight line from base to head so he had to spiral it round all the way down... jazzy).
My slumber generated a vivid dream. No, not a sex dream. I was in a shop, buying a lottery ticket... I saw the numbers on the ticket, and the concious part of my mind made a mental note of that image. I awoke almost straight after this, and although the dream didn't tell me that I was going to win with these numbers, it was pretty obvious that I would. I bought the ticket for the saturday draw using the numbers from the dream. That evening, I made the mistake of telling my friend Howie about my dream... he bought a ticket for the lottery too... doh. Ah well, if i'm gonna be rich, he might as well be too. But i'm not greedy. I'd be delighted to bag three numbers and claim a tenner.
Saturday night. We were out at Spoons, as Darren was leaving for Australia the next day and we wanted to see him off with a bit of drunken fun. Of course, I probably wouldn't have gone if I hadn't known that I was about to win on the lottery. Howie the number thief was there, and we were both eager to know the results of the draw. Howie is a clever bitch and has the internet on his phone, so he searched for the draw result... This was it.... 24 hour Tesco had bags of donuts that were just sitting there waiting for me....
Fair to say it was a pretty big disappointment when not one of my numbers came up... perhaps even more disappointing than when I cut my penis by falling off the toilet. The dream of being a millionaire, thousandaire or tenneraire was dead. I decided to drown my sorrows. I was at an all-time low, and I only had £10 left in my wallet. I asked Darren if he wanted a farewell drink... Amaretto and coke, ok. Up to the bar I went. Two pints for me that cost £1.90 each, one drink for him... £7.30 altogether?!?! This Amaretto had better be nice, maybe i'll drink half of it on the way back to Darren and say that I spilt it. I handed the barman my last tenner. He fumbled around with a bag of pound coins whilst I brooded over my losses. 'Maybe I should run away with the drinks!', I thought, but the logic behind this was flawed as i'd already given him my money, and i'd just be running away from my change. Clearly I was a bit pissed already.
The barman took an exceptionally long time to give me my precious change. 'He's a retard', I thought to myself. 'Maybe I should tell him that I think he's a retard'. I opened my mouth to tell him, but he had thrust my change into my hand before I had a chance. I calmly put it into my pocket and carried the drinks back to the table, with a smug grin on my face. The barman had given me too much change.... £10 too much, in fact, he must have thought i'd given him a twenty pound note to pay. Mwhahaha! I don't care if he realised his mistake as I was walking away, I was in too greedy a mood to care!
Suddenly it all made sense. This was my win. I wouldn't have been there that night had I not thought I was going to win on the lottery. I would have been grateful for a £10 win, and I got it... On the Lottery of Life. I had learnt that you might well follow your dreams, and that's ok, but don't expect them to fall into place without any effort on your part. In the end, you have to make yourself happy, because nobody really cares that much to do it for you.
This makes me happy, it reminds me of a simpler time:
Thanks for reading
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