were the feck did 11 come from and him the joint favourite at 4-1 odds with a name Fast Like Dad and there’s not much space left on the yellow line and then its 11,6,4 and 11,5,4 and then the race is over and its not quite anything at all. It’s porridge is over-rated and I’ve lost 200euro on a horse that isn’t even real and none of the races in front of me are real. Even the real dogs on the flat two dimensional colour screen are upside down and black and white if the internet is to be believed and Michelle is smiling at me, practically winking, and I feel cold and I have a pain in me belly. I reach into my pocket and grab out a hundred euros and put it on the favourite in the 4.34pm dogs track at odds of three to one in the hope of recovering the last bet and it starts well but loses