You knew your were getting close, the number of wise guys increased every several hundred yards. Two here around a hydrant. Three there huddled around the soft glow of a lamppost. Panama hats dipped rain water onto sodden pinks – another sign your were getting close.

“Hey mister… whatchya looking for?” a grime ridden kid pipes up.

You wouldn’t usually flick a street kid like this the finger let alone answer..

“Word on the street is the clown runs a bookies round here.  Wanna piece of the action -see them pink slips that bozo is holding over there? Want me a piece of that”

The kid hold out his small dirty palm

“Might be I know what door you need to knock at..” Its shrill voice pipes up

You flick it a dollar.. it disappears faster than a bourbon at an AA meeting, “this kid should be on some Vegas magic show” you think to yourself

“So?” you ask

“Might be I know the word you need to speak at the door as well…” the kid looks at you again, eyes in its head 20 years older than they should be. You make to clip it round the head but it deftly moves round the back of you…

“Another Dollar mister and I’ll take you right there”

You flick the kid another dollar and follow it down the nearest dank alley

The alley was dark, your senses prick up, a dull bass throb can be heard not too far away. You turn another corner and there like a hidden wonder of the world is what must be the Clown’s bookies.

Garish purple lights shine down on the cobbles making them look like a hippy’s wet dream, in front of a double green door stand two muscular midgets dressed in Lederhosen each wearing a foam red nose, the kid pulls on your sleeve…

“Thessalonians 5:22” The kid mutters before running away sharpish.

 “What the hell…”

You don’t have time to think anything more before one of the midgets is stood in front of you looking up, its head not much higher than your navel.

“Whats the words?” It barks, this thing might be a midget but its balls must be bigger than a grizzly bears… your mind jerks into action “Thessalonica 15:2”  you stutter out, your brain overloaded with the image overload in front of you

“Close enough” The bear midget grumbles… “On you go, no fights, no stray looks, pay your debts, enjoy.” It turns back to the door as its twin kicks it open and you step inside.

The inside pummels your senses, bright strobing lights, deep bass throb and an acrid stech of over burnt incense.  You catch your breath as your pupils dilate – you make out the Clown behind a counter, it has a green eyeshade perched on its head, an oversized pencil behind its ear and one of those new flick-o-faxes on a desk in front of it.

A crosseyed midget sits on its knee slobbering on the edge of the desk.  You think the midget looks at you… you could be wrong but then it speaks:

“Yessssss? A bet you will place yessssss? We take any bet on any ssssport or any real life event. Oddsssss given are written in the book, winningsss paid after event hass occurred.”

From nowhere the clown twats the midget round head head, it flies to the corner of the room and scuttles away

“Enough of the dramatics, I can see you are a serious player.  I specialise in football, and before you ask real football not that egg throwing bullshit that seems to be predominant around here.  Weekly odds will be posted. Take your pick from them, however I’ll also give you odds on anything else that might tickle your fancy, let me know – if I’m not here when you call write it down on that board over there I’ll publish the answer so others might also be interested.”

You walk over to the board and consider your options…