Casino Royale With Cheese

Have you ever munched on cheesy balls whilst facing down a heavily pregnant woman with a mouth full of muffin in a winner-takes-all, final hand of Texas Hold ‘Em after the rest of the sorry-ass players have folded like cheap hookers who got hit in the stomach by a fat guy with sores on his face? You HAVE? Well then, I don’t need to tell you how hard it is to work out if she’s bluffing or not (about the poker I mean; not about being pregnant). Man, those knocked-up women sure do have a lot of emotions flying about…

“…I’ll see your twenty and.. FOR F#CK SAKE WILL YOU STOP KICKING ME YA WEE SH#T.. and I’ll raise you another fifty.”

Anyway, such was the scenario last night as I stared stony-faced across the table at the glowing, radiant features of my poker nemesis. Cards were dealt, bets were raised, the flop was flopped, more betting, the turn was turned, yet more betting, the river was.. eh.. revealed, one last round of betting and then… dun, dun, dun… we couldn’t work out who had won.

The cards were as follows:

Neil: Jack & 3
Nemesis: 10 & 4
Community Cards: Queen, Jack, 10, 4 & 3

So we both end up with two pairs (if only guys, eh?) but did I win with a higher ‘first’ pair or did Nemesis win with a higher ‘last’ pair or should it have been a split pot? Luckily, Nemesis’s husband was tired and was pleading to go to his “beddy-baws” so we agreed to call it quits and resume battle again next week.

Now my competitive nature would never dream of antagonising a pregnant poker nemesis (unless she was fastened tight into the stirrups and couldn’t fight back) but if anyone could clarify whether or not I should be declared the rightful winner, I’d be much obliged. For my own peace of mind you understand.