The Greengate is my favourite pub in Hornswood (being the dynamic little suburbs from Hornsby to Chatswood), it’s my local and according to my lovely wife I’m there… too regularly.

One night with Bolschy (his poker callsign), the blokes came around selling meat-tray raffle tickets. We bought some and after they’d moved on I commenced telling Bolschy a story about the meat-tray raffle we had bought tickets in a few months earlier. Whereby my brother Oracle (his self-ascribed poker callsign) had gone to the toilet during the draw in which we all had tickets.

Me (when Oracle returned to our table) – “QUICK, QUICK ORACLE GET YOURSELF UP THERE. THEY’VE BEEN CALLING YOUR NUMBER.”

Oracle was overjoyed and went flying up to the guy with the microphone.

There he was, in front of the crowd, arguing and gesticulating with the guy when it dawned on him. He looked back to our table to see all the lads pissing themselves laughing and him standing up there with a non-winning, non-called-out ticket. It’s just one of those things you do to a younger brother.

Anyway, after telling my taking-the-piss-out-of-Oracle story, I then had to visit the men’s room myself. Upon return Bolschy was half excited, half laughing.

Bolschy – “QUICK, QUICK COOL HAND (my self-ascribed poker callsign) GET YOURSELF UP THERE. THEY’VE BEEN CALLING YOUR NUMBER.”

Hilarious!

Me – “Bolschy, I’m not an idiot. By the world’s biggest coincidence, I just happened to tell you my Oracle story and now the exact same thing is happening to me?”

Bolschy – “I KNOW THE TIMING IS BIZARRE, BUT HE’S HONESTLY CALLING YOUR NUMBER.”

I could hear the guy inside yelling “THIRTY SECONDS TO GO.”

What choice did I have? Thinking I was being duped, I raced inside and the Greeny this night was completely chockers! I start squeezing through the crowd as politely as I could, but then once I heard “TEN SECONDS” I started to barge and push all the while thinking to myself how much I hate Bolschy.

But I got up there and to my amazement, I HAD actually won. Bolschy wasn’t just being a dickhead like I had been to Oracle.

I gave my massive meat tray to the staff member, they put my name on it and put it in their fridge for me to collect later. Then I heared them draw the next number, “BLUE TICKET, C56.”

I knew all my numbers were around that one so I checked and sure enough, I had won second prize also!

I didn’t have to walk far, pulled out my ticket and held it up to the crowd expecting them to cheer my success.

They didn’t cheer. They got up me!

Seemingly every bloke in the packed-out Greeny was yelled abuse at me. Stuff like – YOU JUST WON A TRAY! REDRAW! THIS IS RIGGED! THE FIX IS IN! DODGY! YOU CAN’T WIN THE TOP TWO! CHEAT!

So, I’m yelling back at the ocean of faces, stuff like – GO TO HELL. NO FREAKEN REDRAW. UP YOURS.

It was all good-hearted banter, but they were united in their abuse and I wasn’t going to stand by and lose my second tray due to any soppy notions of honour and fair play. Despite the loud, unsupportive, non-abating comments I collected my second tray and got them to put it with my other one in the fridge.

About three weeks later Bolschy and I are recounting the story of the event and the crazy coincidence after me setting up my brother a few months before, and we’re laughing about the whole thing. And then it occurred to me.

Me – “OH SHIT LADS. I never came back and collected my meat trays!!”

PLEASE USE THE BUTTONS BELOW TO SHARE FAR AND WIDE.

Thanks for reading. I write blogs oftentimes just to claim at parties much to my wife’s chagrin, that I am in fact… a writer. I write stuff for a few small businesses but I need to one day be a famous contributor to the noble art of blogging. And check out my the brilliant new craft-beer home delivery business I set up with a few North Shore mates (gettincrafty.com.au) Cheers