A Word In Your Ear - February 1, 2018

We laughed at our friend’s recollection of younger days, playing three-card brag.

I wasn’t lucky at cards either. “Your face gives you away,” Dad later counselled, when I’d lost my spending money trying out poker.

On my one visit to the races, a Gazette outing to Haydock, I followed a regular punter’s advice and only bet what I could afford to lose – which I duly did. My £1 ‘on the nose’ for each race failed to win, except in the last – when my horse romped home first. Then its jockey was disqualified for ‘abuse of the whip’. It was an expensive lesson.

Neither did those old betting shops tempt me, except for Grand National days. They looked seedy, with blanked-out exteriors and no advertising allowed.

I found casinos unappealing, too, with desperate gamblers risking more than they could afford to lose, then looking miserable. Their best attraction was the food, often with free drinks.

However, mobile phone gaming now sponsors most televised sport, using the longest, most lavish and cleverly cast adverts. Worldly men hint of shrewd knowledge and a club-like camaraderie, as they bestride exotic destinations while “betting responsibly”. Or glamorous, young couples pop the Prosecco after free and easy phone bets on latest football scores.

It’s all a long way from when dads would check their soccer pools and, on Sundays, we’d read of the latest to become millionaires – only for their world to be ruined by it.

No wonder two out of three teenagers now complain of being bombarded by gambling advertising. They should think instead of Harry - and his reception from wife Barbara, after ‘losing his shirt’.

In the end, only the bookies win.

• For Roy’s books visit www.royedmonds-blackpool.com.