Betting shops sure are grim places and this one on Smithdown Road doesn’t do anything but live up to its premise. Grubby and filled with gloom, it surprises me how empty it always is. Screens blare out the happenings of various sports as men with little else to do and no interest that isn’t financial stand around not reacting. Then they take their ticket to the window and fill out another one. In terms of betting, I’m the natural enemy of these people, the kind of person who has a flutter on the gee-gees every year, probably the last horse I heard anybody mention. When I won once, I handed my two tickets in but only got the winnings from one. When I protested, the woman told me to come back at the end. I did and was told that there was no evidence I’d handed two tickets in. Cheers for that Bill Hill.