DUBLIN BELLYBUSTERS

Several hours ago, midway through my poker session, I took the nastiest of bad beats. Were my aces cracked by 23? Was my nut-straight runner-runner flushed? Was I river one-outed? None of the above...

There was a knock at my door. Since I live in an apartment and there was no buzz of the doorbell, I assumed it was someone from within the building. (Ye know, one of those cup of sugar scenarios) Being the miserable bastard that I am, I ignored it. (I don't have any sugar in the cupboard in any case) I was busy with my games and assumed that it wasn't important. Five minutes later, there was another knock. I begrudgingly got out of bed and made my way to the door. "Hello", I said. "Hey", said a man's voice, "Post-man here, I have a package for you". "Hmmm...", I thought, "maybe Full Tilt have finally sent me my fancy clothes for the Barcelona Event" and I opened the door.

"TV Licence Inspector here", said the man.

Fuckety-Fuck! After a few questions, he gave me four weeks to cough up the dough. I closed the door and cursed my poxy luck. Having successfully dodged this bloke for 9 years, he finally got me!