The
National Lottery is an impossible dream. However, the fact of the matter is that despite the odds of winning the
jackpot (has been up to £40million in the UK) are approximately 14 million to one and as such one is more likely to die in a
car/
aeroplane/
Yacht/
dingy/bowl of soup/forest fire/jar of peanut butter etc etc that I cannot help but play the damn thing twice a week without fail.
I consider myself an educated man and the fact that I scored 93% on my statistics paper at university should really make me think twice before lifting up that biro on a piece of string in my local newsagents and furiously scribbling my secret special numbers that will hopefully bring me my fortune.
But no, I will play the bastard thing until the day i die for the simple reason that I cannot stand the idea that the numbers that may as well be tatooed on my forehead along with the word 'IDIOT' may just roll in one sunny day.
If it gets past 7.30pm on a Wednesday or Saturday (This is the cut off time to play in the UK) and I realise I've forgotten to buy my tickets then I undergo a feeling presumably akin to the feeling one goes through when hearing the 4 minute warning, which only subsides an hour later when the numbers are announced and my numbers inevitably haven't rolled in.
I calculate that if i'm lucky enough to live until I'm 80 years old then I'm destined to have spent at least £7000 on this horrible affliction.
'It could be you' - YEH RIGHT!!!
Mind you, having said all that, the guy I lived next door to at university won £2million on the goddamn thing 2 weeks after his 22nd birthday but that's a different node. (see, my mate's mate won the lottery when I write it).