Tuesday
I will persevere
Despite the critics, I will continue to uphold the virtures of moral poker blogging and show the world the brilliance of Britain's greatest players. I will try and update the blog this evening.
Monday
Stewie Hunger
A poker playing legend from Cornwall, Stewie lived life to the fullest, partied hard and played even harder. Stewie is the only three time winner of the association poker championship. Stewie's most renowned hand is the one he couldn't even afford to play and one he didn't see the end of.
Broke and penceless, Stewie after an evening of hard core drug use and soft core recreational drug use and moderate prescription drug use and NyQuil chugging and heavy over the counter drug use and a Marathon of Fawlty Towers found himself, vertibly Quantuam Leaped, from his perspective, railbirding Sir Sam Harrod, the pickup driving founder of Harrods Department Store, playing Half and Half style which consists of 5 and 6 pence snooker and Ipswich Hold 'Em.
Stewie, at that point an unintelligle mess, began channeling the alien voices who spoke to him in his head, this time the language Hebrew. Funny thing, Stewie didn't understand Hebrew but he knew they were talking to him it and knew he had to repeat it to the crowd. Nongentiles said his hebrew was a flawless retelling of a Bar Mitzah in Glasgow. Sir Sam Harrod not recognizing the famous degenerate, but taken with the sideshow, invited Stewie to sit at the card table with him. Onlookers whispered, he's penceless and out of sorts, even as Stewie tried to lick the electical outlets, but Sir Sam said, "but a trifling. I will supply the tender with which he will play, for queen and country let it be known the department store king has a soft spot for our homeless."
Sir Sam fronted the 10,000 quid to get Stewie in the game more as a gesture of his largesse and his ample wealth, but little did he realize he was about to get a lesson from Cornwall's finest. Within short order, Stewie now speaking inner Mongolian dispatched with ruthless agression the other players at the table. After tea, it was found he and Sam Harrod had an equal number of chips.
Stewie, his mind more on the ostrich nibbling his ear, still had his magic touch and inately the poker played itself. So second nature to him, he stared Harrod dead in the eye and speaking suddenly English said, "I'll play it for all." Harrod looked at the board, and though he had loaned the 10 G to Stewie, he had to give pause to the wager. Now they were each sitting on 500 g as a 100 players had started the tournament before being dispatched by he and the poker savant, and even to him that was a considerable amount of money. His confidant whispered in his ear, just fold, and take it from him in the Snooker portion, he can barely hold a cue.
Harrod, however, was a proud man and he had sought to trap the agressive Stewie and he thought he had just done so, but he wanted to be sure, two jacks in his hand matched the one on the table, the full house made by the Queen on the turn gave him almost the conkers. The board read JhQsKhQh with but the Thames card to come. "I'll see your wager! I too, play for it all!"
Stewie rolled his eyes, and back into his head they went. The dealer laid the last card to rest, a worthles 5, and it hit with a massive thud. Actually, it wasn't the card it was Stewie's head, he died at the table, Harrod tried to sweep the pot, "A dead man wins no hand."
Inky Cobblepockets a drifter and Stewie's last friend, was Georgie on the Pot, he sprung to the table like Simon Le Bond to a mirror of coke, correcting the department store king,"The hand plays. And if he wins, we might well need it for his...uh... Irish wake." The crowd roared in agreement. "He's a good belfast boy, that Rory Patrick Odoull Odell OBrien."
Harrod sneered, "It matters little, I have the Pair and Trips, this house is full, as the cockney say, Mittens for the Kittens!" He started to sweep the pot.
Inky Cobblepockets, dug his dirty nails into Harrod's hand, his grungy, stubby fingers like sausages from his half-gloved maw stopped the lord not from their grip but from the abseces bubbling from them. Harrod recoiled in horror. "Too much haste, mi'lord, what's Stewie's hand?" As though the drug soaked corpse heard this final call to the felt, Stewie's hand thudded to the table revealing his hole cards. The crowd collectively marveled, "The stone cold conkers!" Ah10h.
Broke and penceless, Stewie after an evening of hard core drug use and soft core recreational drug use and moderate prescription drug use and NyQuil chugging and heavy over the counter drug use and a Marathon of Fawlty Towers found himself, vertibly Quantuam Leaped, from his perspective, railbirding Sir Sam Harrod, the pickup driving founder of Harrods Department Store, playing Half and Half style which consists of 5 and 6 pence snooker and Ipswich Hold 'Em.
Stewie, at that point an unintelligle mess, began channeling the alien voices who spoke to him in his head, this time the language Hebrew. Funny thing, Stewie didn't understand Hebrew but he knew they were talking to him it and knew he had to repeat it to the crowd. Nongentiles said his hebrew was a flawless retelling of a Bar Mitzah in Glasgow. Sir Sam Harrod not recognizing the famous degenerate, but taken with the sideshow, invited Stewie to sit at the card table with him. Onlookers whispered, he's penceless and out of sorts, even as Stewie tried to lick the electical outlets, but Sir Sam said, "but a trifling. I will supply the tender with which he will play, for queen and country let it be known the department store king has a soft spot for our homeless."
Sir Sam fronted the 10,000 quid to get Stewie in the game more as a gesture of his largesse and his ample wealth, but little did he realize he was about to get a lesson from Cornwall's finest. Within short order, Stewie now speaking inner Mongolian dispatched with ruthless agression the other players at the table. After tea, it was found he and Sam Harrod had an equal number of chips.
Stewie, his mind more on the ostrich nibbling his ear, still had his magic touch and inately the poker played itself. So second nature to him, he stared Harrod dead in the eye and speaking suddenly English said, "I'll play it for all." Harrod looked at the board, and though he had loaned the 10 G to Stewie, he had to give pause to the wager. Now they were each sitting on 500 g as a 100 players had started the tournament before being dispatched by he and the poker savant, and even to him that was a considerable amount of money. His confidant whispered in his ear, just fold, and take it from him in the Snooker portion, he can barely hold a cue.
Harrod, however, was a proud man and he had sought to trap the agressive Stewie and he thought he had just done so, but he wanted to be sure, two jacks in his hand matched the one on the table, the full house made by the Queen on the turn gave him almost the conkers. The board read JhQsKhQh with but the Thames card to come. "I'll see your wager! I too, play for it all!"
Stewie rolled his eyes, and back into his head they went. The dealer laid the last card to rest, a worthles 5, and it hit with a massive thud. Actually, it wasn't the card it was Stewie's head, he died at the table, Harrod tried to sweep the pot, "A dead man wins no hand."
Inky Cobblepockets a drifter and Stewie's last friend, was Georgie on the Pot, he sprung to the table like Simon Le Bond to a mirror of coke, correcting the department store king,"The hand plays. And if he wins, we might well need it for his...uh... Irish wake." The crowd roared in agreement. "He's a good belfast boy, that Rory Patrick Odoull Odell OBrien."
Harrod sneered, "It matters little, I have the Pair and Trips, this house is full, as the cockney say, Mittens for the Kittens!" He started to sweep the pot.
Inky Cobblepockets, dug his dirty nails into Harrod's hand, his grungy, stubby fingers like sausages from his half-gloved maw stopped the lord not from their grip but from the abseces bubbling from them. Harrod recoiled in horror. "Too much haste, mi'lord, what's Stewie's hand?" As though the drug soaked corpse heard this final call to the felt, Stewie's hand thudded to the table revealing his hole cards. The crowd collectively marveled, "The stone cold conkers!" Ah10h.
Thursday
Battle of Bulge
Methinks it's time for me to weigh in on these battling Gulfcoastpoker sites. I think since you yanks like the free market so much I may just auction off my allegiances. Highest bidder gets Bullfeathers to endorse your site. I see the .net-ters may be giving away some garments. Enticing. .Com-ers your reply?
As for an ethical viewpoint, GeneD's blog is quite compellling and I've started to root for him. His site stays above the dreck for the most part and despite his commenters he passes mustard. For now, I'll link you on my blog. At least until I get a better offer. For the most part I find this so much balderdash and piffle.
WWW.GULFCOASTPOKER.NET
As for an ethical viewpoint, GeneD's blog is quite compellling and I've started to root for him. His site stays above the dreck for the most part and despite his commenters he passes mustard. For now, I'll link you on my blog. At least until I get a better offer. For the most part I find this so much balderdash and piffle.
WWW.GULFCOASTPOKER.NET
Tuesday
Boyle Drunson
You can have your Hoyle cards, your Doyle Brunsons but none compare to the impact Boyle Drunson has had on cards. One of Great Britain's legends, a salt of the Earth, Bolye grew up mere meters away from the ruins of Hadrian's Wall. He had but one job out of university and that was a door to door rubbish bin salesman and then he fell into a career as a poker player. Traveling back and forth from Scotland and the North Country, Bolye with his buddies the afroed frenchman C.T. Joutier, and Camelot Slim, amassed a fortune playing in pub games and underground card houses.
As a youth, Bolye had been a prodigy on the cricket pitches as a bowler and threw a bouncer that gave the Indians fits in test matches (dots not feathers). Then he developed a strange lump on his nose. It was feared it was a dangerous polyp. Stangely enough the boil disappeared and Boyle realized that though he once had dreamed about being Britain's first dentist, cards were where his lionheart lay. This brush with death, or at least a brush with acne, forced Bolye to rededicate himself to the English games like Swollen Member Hi-Lo and Pants Down Pudding and of course Ipswich Hold 'Em which you Yanks call Texas hold 'em.
Bolye, despite his achievements as a 10 time gold watch winner at the World Cup of Poker, is best known for one memorable hand in Luton. Stumpy Niles Nielsen and Paul Ince two famous rounders were seated at the table with him. Stumpy, a tight player was having a bad night pushed in for his last 2250 pounds saying, "I'll play for it all." Ince, an intimidating man, studied his two cards intently. A portugeese girl who offered back rubs and bueno endings peeked down as she rubbed his back. Ince finally threw his cards away.
Bolye, studied Stumpy and Ince and decided his two tens might well be enough and thought maybe the chaps shared A
Ks. He called. At this point, the dealer a dullard of woman, thought the hand was over and dropped the deck into the loo. Boyle just about lost his 10 liter hat. Proprietor of the club, George Boy a part time transvetite, quickly said, "Comma, Comma, Comma, Commin over," and surveyed the situation.
George Boy, on that night was a girl or rather a boy dressed as girl, and blinked her/his eyelashes pensively, "Reshuffle the deck and deal them out." Stumpy showed his pocket kings and Boyle was gutted. Still the crusty old road warrior just laughed "Mates, I've been in worse sorts, you know I won two of my watches with 10-2 offsuit." The crowd groaned because they have all heard that tale endless times plus they were tired of giving the old man a standing ovation every time he limped out of the club even if it was to go the bathroom and his raging gonnerea picked up in the Boor Wars made those trips even more frequent.
The flop came out K910, the turn bric-a-brac, and the river the last 10. Boyle drew in his chips and asked Ince what he folded. "You won't believe this but I folded... those two tens." The Portugeese girl confirmed it with a knowing nod.
BULLFEATHERS__Half-man, half-bird but no George Boy!
As a youth, Bolye had been a prodigy on the cricket pitches as a bowler and threw a bouncer that gave the Indians fits in test matches (dots not feathers). Then he developed a strange lump on his nose. It was feared it was a dangerous polyp. Stangely enough the boil disappeared and Boyle realized that though he once had dreamed about being Britain's first dentist, cards were where his lionheart lay. This brush with death, or at least a brush with acne, forced Bolye to rededicate himself to the English games like Swollen Member Hi-Lo and Pants Down Pudding and of course Ipswich Hold 'Em which you Yanks call Texas hold 'em.
Bolye, despite his achievements as a 10 time gold watch winner at the World Cup of Poker, is best known for one memorable hand in Luton. Stumpy Niles Nielsen and Paul Ince two famous rounders were seated at the table with him. Stumpy, a tight player was having a bad night pushed in for his last 2250 pounds saying, "I'll play for it all." Ince, an intimidating man, studied his two cards intently. A portugeese girl who offered back rubs and bueno endings peeked down as she rubbed his back. Ince finally threw his cards away.
Bolye, studied Stumpy and Ince and decided his two tens might well be enough and thought maybe the chaps shared A
Ks. He called. At this point, the dealer a dullard of woman, thought the hand was over and dropped the deck into the loo. Boyle just about lost his 10 liter hat. Proprietor of the club, George Boy a part time transvetite, quickly said, "Comma, Comma, Comma, Commin over," and surveyed the situation.George Boy, on that night was a girl or rather a boy dressed as girl, and blinked her/his eyelashes pensively, "Reshuffle the deck and deal them out." Stumpy showed his pocket kings and Boyle was gutted. Still the crusty old road warrior just laughed "Mates, I've been in worse sorts, you know I won two of my watches with 10-2 offsuit." The crowd groaned because they have all heard that tale endless times plus they were tired of giving the old man a standing ovation every time he limped out of the club even if it was to go the bathroom and his raging gonnerea picked up in the Boor Wars made those trips even more frequent.
The flop came out K910, the turn bric-a-brac, and the river the last 10. Boyle drew in his chips and asked Ince what he folded. "You won't believe this but I folded... those two tens." The Portugeese girl confirmed it with a knowing nod.
BULLFEATHERS__Half-man, half-bird but no George Boy!
Sunday
In Honor of Harry and william...
My two favorite Princes recently on the Matt Lauer show, evoked some Patriotism in this Limey. Insomuch that Crown Prince William and third in line to the throne Harry have motivated me to to start a spirited discourse about the UK's great poker players and the legacies they have left to the likes of me, ram vaswani, and devilfish ulliot.
First a couple of legends:
Nobby Standish--A Liverpool legend Nobby's notab
le for his famous bluff without a hand. Playing in the Old Winged Tankard Card Club in the early aughts where he won his wages from the dock workers on pay day, or from anybody on the dole who had just cashed their government check he made one of Britain's greatest bluffs. One foggy night, after a warmup of gin and Silent Sally, Nobby got into a hand with Oscar Starr (yes a relation of Ringo... in fact his grandpapa), playing the Queens favorite game Omaha. Nobby called on the turn having just boated up. However, the dealer in haste swept up all the folded cards but also grabbed Nobby's. Now, Nobby knew they were intractably stuck in the loo (as they called the muck at that time) but he also knew he could still win the hand, and he quickly put his large stumpy hands down as though they were covering cards.
His opponent Oscar Starr, like his grandson after him on many a night, was sauced from drinking homemade highballs more suited for painthinning than consumption. He had a habit of looking skyward when waiting for his draw on the river. Bleery eyed, he was in just this state with his gaze afixed towards the rafters and he missed the dealer's error. Nobby glared at the dealer and indicated he continue dealing the river and then gave a menacing look to the rest of the table. No one dared speak. His scars from his days in the foreign legion across his bald head made even the biggest man think twice when Nobby was advocating silence. The river was bric-a-brac. Nobby quickly ejaculated, "I'll play for it all!" Oscar, peered down for only a second to see his draw busted and threw his cards angrily at the dealer, never noticing Nobby beat him with nothing--literally.
While that tale has become blue collar legend Nobby's greatest bluff is nothing compared to Archibald Kennsington Whey's brash entry into the world's 2nd richest game. In 1936, Archie had his mates deliver a giant package from "Hitler" to the House of Lords. Now in those days of English appeasement, Parliment got many lavish gifts from Hitler like this so they thought nary a second about the three meter round box being wheeled in by a calvacade of lederhosen wearing brutes. When they opened it expecting another batch of fine confiscated crystal goblets and the pin numbers to seized Swiss bank accounts out stepped Archie. Affecting his best
German accent, he said, "My lords Hitler himself sent me here with these Brauts and Bier and an invitation to join me in a game of cards. Let's play for say... Poland?" The landed gentry at the time were a gambling sort and decided all of Poland would be a trivial cost for a round of cards with such an engaging Bavarian ambassador and the frivolity the day promised. Pipes were lit and Scotch was poured.
Then a couple of the more leery ministers said they'd play for the Polacks, but only if it was a house game and selected an English game similar to Bouree, Trample the Brambley Dick. Little did they know that Archie was the greatest Trample the Brambley Dick in all of the Commonwealth. He agreed, feigning half-heartedness and broke out his thick roll of pounds notes. Then Archie, the greatest Trample the Brambley Dick, proceeded to lose every big pot. At the end of the night he lamented, "Poland's safe! And I am for the moment flinted. However, perhaps, next week we play for Alsace-Lorraine?" The Lords in chorus assured him Hitler's money was always good there and Lord Suttenharrylee of Jefferson even put up Archie in his manor. The next time he showed up to Parliment he basically had an armed escort into Britannia's greastest house. Then for the next three months he fleeced the ministers. Archibald Kennsington Whey acheiving the impossible getting into the softest high stakes game of the 30s. A historical footnote, as a result of his wins and flim-flamming the British he also gave Hitler a free pass to all of Continental Europe.
More English poker legends to follow...
BULLFEATHERS__I'm not a cow and that's not milk
First a couple of legends:
Nobby Standish--A Liverpool legend Nobby's notab
le for his famous bluff without a hand. Playing in the Old Winged Tankard Card Club in the early aughts where he won his wages from the dock workers on pay day, or from anybody on the dole who had just cashed their government check he made one of Britain's greatest bluffs. One foggy night, after a warmup of gin and Silent Sally, Nobby got into a hand with Oscar Starr (yes a relation of Ringo... in fact his grandpapa), playing the Queens favorite game Omaha. Nobby called on the turn having just boated up. However, the dealer in haste swept up all the folded cards but also grabbed Nobby's. Now, Nobby knew they were intractably stuck in the loo (as they called the muck at that time) but he also knew he could still win the hand, and he quickly put his large stumpy hands down as though they were covering cards.His opponent Oscar Starr, like his grandson after him on many a night, was sauced from drinking homemade highballs more suited for painthinning than consumption. He had a habit of looking skyward when waiting for his draw on the river. Bleery eyed, he was in just this state with his gaze afixed towards the rafters and he missed the dealer's error. Nobby glared at the dealer and indicated he continue dealing the river and then gave a menacing look to the rest of the table. No one dared speak. His scars from his days in the foreign legion across his bald head made even the biggest man think twice when Nobby was advocating silence. The river was bric-a-brac. Nobby quickly ejaculated, "I'll play for it all!" Oscar, peered down for only a second to see his draw busted and threw his cards angrily at the dealer, never noticing Nobby beat him with nothing--literally.
While that tale has become blue collar legend Nobby's greatest bluff is nothing compared to Archibald Kennsington Whey's brash entry into the world's 2nd richest game. In 1936, Archie had his mates deliver a giant package from "Hitler" to the House of Lords. Now in those days of English appeasement, Parliment got many lavish gifts from Hitler like this so they thought nary a second about the three meter round box being wheeled in by a calvacade of lederhosen wearing brutes. When they opened it expecting another batch of fine confiscated crystal goblets and the pin numbers to seized Swiss bank accounts out stepped Archie. Affecting his best
German accent, he said, "My lords Hitler himself sent me here with these Brauts and Bier and an invitation to join me in a game of cards. Let's play for say... Poland?" The landed gentry at the time were a gambling sort and decided all of Poland would be a trivial cost for a round of cards with such an engaging Bavarian ambassador and the frivolity the day promised. Pipes were lit and Scotch was poured. Then a couple of the more leery ministers said they'd play for the Polacks, but only if it was a house game and selected an English game similar to Bouree, Trample the Brambley Dick. Little did they know that Archie was the greatest Trample the Brambley Dick in all of the Commonwealth. He agreed, feigning half-heartedness and broke out his thick roll of pounds notes. Then Archie, the greatest Trample the Brambley Dick, proceeded to lose every big pot. At the end of the night he lamented, "Poland's safe! And I am for the moment flinted. However, perhaps, next week we play for Alsace-Lorraine?" The Lords in chorus assured him Hitler's money was always good there and Lord Suttenharrylee of Jefferson even put up Archie in his manor. The next time he showed up to Parliment he basically had an armed escort into Britannia's greastest house. Then for the next three months he fleeced the ministers. Archibald Kennsington Whey acheiving the impossible getting into the softest high stakes game of the 30s. A historical footnote, as a result of his wins and flim-flamming the British he also gave Hitler a free pass to all of Continental Europe.
More English poker legends to follow...
BULLFEATHERS__I'm not a cow and that's not milk
Saturday
Larsen's Blog: Britains Got Talent - It gave me chills#links#links#links
Larsen's Blog: Britains Got Talent - It gave me chills#links#links#links
Here's a link to me doing one of my favorite hobbies. I'm quite good at it too. Traveled to Cardiff for the audition but it was well worth the journey, as I think I made quite the impression on Mr. Cowell. I know people say opera is for burkes or pansies but take a look at the reaction of the the middle judge and I think you'll hold my ilk in higher esteem. Still working on my confidence though, as what they neglected to show was me at the Sword and Chalice quaffing a few pints to get my nerve up. I took a bit of stick from me mates when I went to the show but now it's all "Corr Blimey! I didn't know you had that kind of mettle!"
Cheers.
Bullfeathers__The only Bull that's chinastore approved.
Here's a link to me doing one of my favorite hobbies. I'm quite good at it too. Traveled to Cardiff for the audition but it was well worth the journey, as I think I made quite the impression on Mr. Cowell. I know people say opera is for burkes or pansies but take a look at the reaction of the the middle judge and I think you'll hold my ilk in higher esteem. Still working on my confidence though, as what they neglected to show was me at the Sword and Chalice quaffing a few pints to get my nerve up. I took a bit of stick from me mates when I went to the show but now it's all "Corr Blimey! I didn't know you had that kind of mettle!"
Cheers.
Bullfeathers__The only Bull that's chinastore approved.
Poker
Somebody said my blog wasn't very good. That's no surprise because I hadn't posted yet. The title you will notice is part of the old slogan, "Liquor in the front, poker in the rear." It's a double entendre and one I admonish. I write it as the title of my own blog for the simple reason to draw attention to the rash of poker blog sites that have sprouted up that are sophmoric attempts at humor. If you found this site in an attempt to find bad humor and juvenile puns you will be sorry. There will be none of that here.
Some more about me. I am encouraging a movement of anti-defamation poker blogs to stand up for the rights of poker players who have blogs. Some people say I have a lack of sense of humor but they obviously never seen Bullfeathers on a microphone with the accompanment of my accordian.
I am now soliciting suggestions for my new organization's name.
BULLFEATHERS__MESS WITH ME AND YOU GET THE HORNS AND THE BEAK!
I also play poker out of Heathrow. I say that because I am a world traveler and that's my home airport. You yanks won't know where that is.
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