IT is without doubt the game of poker was invented by a galloping group of nutcases in order to drive all sane and sensible people straight to emergency ward 10 of the local funny farm.
No matter how much I study theory and read articles relating to how to play this game properly, every week a situation arises that turns logic into chaos theory.
I am going to tell you about BAZ.
Can I play please? Says Baz. Of course you can, have you played before? No but I have seen it on the tellybox and I like that one that gets upset a lot, what’s his name, you know, Foul Hellmouth; you mean Phil Hellmuth! Yes that’s the one.
So what do I do with these chips then, says Baz. Well put them in if you think you have a good hand. OK says Baz. Needless to say you know Baz wins the tourney, because he kept betting with the 5 thousand brown chips and everyone folded thinking he had made great hands.
It was only when I asked him why he used the 5k chips all the time, he said “I don’t like brown chips; I was trying to get rid of them but every time I tried I kept getting them back”