Bastards [Lurks]

The phone rang was I was doing the last blog.

"Hello sir, I'm ringing from the National Lottery."

I'm still feeling a bit shit from the all day drinking session and U2 gig last night but by golly, this was enough to put the fire back in my belly!
Heart racing, blood thumping in my temples, I gibber that I am indeed the person she is looking for.

"We'd like to invite you to a research event which we're using to gain more information about syndicate managers."

Err, what? You aren't calling to tell me I've won eight million pounds?

"No sir, I'm afraid not. Do you still run a syndicate. "

No... um, fuck, shit, piss. Err sorry! No. We let it lapse, mostly because we didn't win eight million pounds.

"Oh well, sorry to hear that sir but if you don't keep up your syndicate you don't have any chance at all!"

Yes... thank you... goodbye. [click]