Who will dance with the tinker's daughter?

I played 30 mins online and did about $1/2k so up about $37k for the week. I had my first losing week in sports betting since I have being doing it. Had a big bet on Munster, which came home on Sunday, but had layed Murray in the tennis from the start of the tourney. I layed him cause I hate the f**ker so much, not because I had any reasoning. First senseless bet I made and boom f**ker wins it, costing me €5,500. Still couldn't have happened to me at a better time, but ended down €2k sports betting for the week.

The plan for the week is to play the big live game tonight in Galway and then the focus turns to the Irish Open, which I will talk about in Friday's blog.

It was Chub's birthday on Saturday, so 15 of our normie mates rolled in from Dublin for the night. Things kicked off in the bar at 3 p.m and finished there 17 hours later at 7 a.m. and what a 17 hour session it was! Fair play to the security guard in the Eglington, he wasn't having any of us coming in, despite saying we would be good. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. He wasn't willing to be shamed despite my blatant lies, which promised good behaviour.

So on the way back to the hotel me and Chub marched where there was a hen party who where dressed in the most revealing clothes I have ever seen. Chub decided to give them a spin. They looked as if they may hailed from the travelling community. So with my usual level of subtlety, I pinged out the line from the field ,"who will dance with the tinkers daughter, Chub will".

Somehow they managed to decode my joke and before I knew it, I was being hotly pursued by the two tinkers through Eyre square. One of them had latched onto my new jacket, which cost me €400 lids that day. Now I know €400 is nothing to most of you, but that's 30 mins work for me, so I was intent on not getting the thing ripped.

They said their uncle was on en-route, so I was trying talk my way out of the mess I had yet again landed myself in. Then suddenly, one of them hits me with a sweet left hander across the jaw. F**k me, if she hit like that, her uncle was going to eat me for breakfast.

So I took flight to the sound of the stitching in my jacket ripping. Back to the bar for some banter with Paul Lecky, who was getting quite creeped out by our normal mates.