It has been too long good people

Firstly, I must apologise for my abstinence from blogging. I have an excuse, but it is feeble, so I won't bother mentioning it. The difficult thing about leaving it so long is knowing where to begin. I have been in 5 different states and countless casinos, bars and gentleman's clubs. I have drunk enough beer to put on a stone (14lbs for you Yankees) and eaten everything from oysters and caviar to Waffle House and Burger King. I am going to break it into four or five blogs so as not to bore you all.
It all begun back in Myrtle beach, on the invitational golf trip to South Carolina. The first thing I noticed about Myrtle beach, was that it is still ok to call a particular week of the year, "Black Biker Week". At first I presumed that all of the bikers(and there were ALOT of them) must have been riding black bikes, but alas, I soon found out that the previous week, had been "White Biker Week", courtesy of my informative taxi driver. I will leave you to form whatever opinions you want about the prejudices of particular regions of the United States, and will add that there weren't too many Harley's parked up outside The Caledonian golf club.
The whole trip was a bit of a blur, I remember playing outstanding golf on the first day before I had drunk anything, and then I remember not remembering anything for the rest of the trip, and not winning any money at golf. I did however have two business cards in my wallet, one had the name Tim on it with a number and the other was for a 'bail bonds' company. All I could deduce was that the little beer gremlins that were bouncing on my head each morning, must have also stolen all of the money out of my wallet the night before and replaced it with two things which would utterly confuse me.

Sharks all over the course and crocs watching every tee! Realistically what chance did I have.

It was a great trip, that was worth every penny and I met some really good people from the American poker world. I'm not sure that stormy east coast is the best destination for a golf trip, there were at least two occasions that I thought I was going to get struck by lightning and it was damn sticky all the time. Myrtle itself just seemed tired. Everywhere needs a lick of paint, or a florescent bulb replacing so if you are thinking of starting a new business to beat the impending economic implosion (Lord F 2012) that might just be it. Although thinking about it, they might just let Myrtle fall into the Atlantic when that happens, and start over again in twenty years. For those who know it, it reminded me of happy times in Blackpool, but a whole lot warmer, with a nicer beach.

That is all for now

Lord F

Little Teaser for the next episode;

 

Who said dog is man's best friend; 'Canine leads Lord F down garden path in strategic bluff'.

Inactivity apology

I'm very sorry for my period of inactivity, it has been mainly due to the fact I have been in an alcohol fuelled coma for 8 days. It was meant to be a nice relaxing trip ahead of the upcoming Vegas grind, but I now need a break to recover from the break. I shall write a full post in the next 24hrs, but I have to pop off to Malibu Vineyard for the picnic and jazz afternoon with Lady F.
They say mental preparation for the World series of poker is crucial, well I should be in great shape because I haven't used my mind, except to tell my right hand to lift beer and my mouth to swallow. Time to get civilised, and begin the countdown.
T minus 4 days, and its crush time.
as always, be lucky

The Lord

A long frustrating week

 On Tuesday, I decided I would press on with my new found golf confidence, and get an early morning round in with the usual chaps. Fresh off the back of a win last time out, I continued my new vein of good form, much to their consternation and managed to shoot an 80. This is my first ever single figure score over par(9 over), and could have been a good deal better had I not finished double bogey, bogey, double bogey. The trouble with playing like this, is that the handicap police are out in force and they try as hard as they can to get strokes off you next time out. I wish I could say I finished weakly intentionally to keep these fellows interested, but alas, I did not.
Anyway, moving on, after golf I returned to Commerce at 3pm to play the $1k tournament which had 61 players. Now, I was a little concerned prior to entering about the early wake up and a late finish but I spoke to my good friend Matt Savage, who is without doubt the best tournament director in the world, and he assured me that day 1 would be finished by 2 am at the latest.
I was sitting comfortably second in chips with 10 players left, as we went down to the final table and it was 12.30 am. Ooooh thinks Lord F, great, this will be wrapped up inside an hour and I can have a good nights sleep and come back tomorrow to try and buffer the coffers with a few more Greenbacks. A wise man once told me, 'assumptions are dangerous things to make, like bombs' (Earl Seden of Botley).
The three short stacked players all doubled up against the odds. In fact every single incident that occurred, happened at a less than a 30% likelihood for the following 4 hrs. The long and the short of it was that at 5.45 am I was the 8th man out, and for my 15 hours of play I earned exactly $0.
I was fairly miffed to say the least, and the icing on the cake was that having been up for 24 hrs and being tired beyond belief, I now had to drive home in morning rush hour traffic, which took me forty minutes longer than it should have.
I decided Wednesday would be a day of rest and recuperation. I decided to venture out and invest in a pipe, and some wonderfully flavoured cherry tobacco. It did have a very calming influence on my mood, although on the flip side, according to Lady F the pungent aroma's did get stuck in the whiskers. With pipe in mouth and the good Lady in hand, to the beach we headed. The waves crashing, the blue sky, a fine smoke and a good Lady on your arm, melted away the angst. After a wonderful stroll we filled our bellies with Boeuf Wellington washed down with a fine Malbec at a marvellous English establishment, just what the doctor ordered.

Finally I was able to start considering the lessons learnt from the previous days shenanigans. It was foolish of me to get up at the crack of dawn and play golf with the 'chance' of  a late finish, however again it was another deep run in a very competitive field. My glass will always be half full dear readers, mind you as I clambered into my bed I noticed black tar all over my feet. I must have managed to find the only two hidden patches of bitumen on the beach, and the stuff doesn't bloody well come off. (was nice having Lady F scrub my feet for an hour or so as I drifted off, that's how we Lords roll)

puff

Lord F

A California state champion

Well, for those of you who don't yet follow my tweets, I became a State champion yesterday. The $125 pot limit omaha rebuy event was won by yours truly. For those of you unfamiliar with Omaha, its another one of the many types of poker game, where you are dealt four cards instead of just two. Jolly good game, with many more different combinations to tinker with, and at the end of the day, it's still poker, and it's still a trophy. In fact a rather attractive bear, which is the state symbol of California.

Here is your first portrait of Lord F in action

Lets just hope we can turn this win into a little hot streak, and take it back to Las Vegas for the World Series of Poker.

This is why it is called Bear Hunting, and I managed to win myself a coveted bear. Its a bloody heavy little bugger, hmmmm, now to try and persuade Lady F that it will look good on the mantelpiece in 'position A' back at the stately home.

Advertising: The perils of American understanding

Having just been sat, enjoying my morning cup of tea, watching the wrapping up of the premier league football season, when this pops up on a TV commercial.

For our American cousins in the advertising world, Newcastle is a town in the north of England. Bollocks is an expletetive of the highest order, and should not be used on television before 9pm. Especially when the majority of American 'soccer' players are children under 16 years old. For the record, Bollocks are in fact the two dangling things most males have between their legs, so what this commercial is actually saying is that Newcastle is a fearful, weak place which no one would want to go to, or that its full of women.
In any case I'm pretty certain last time I checked that no beer I have ever drunk has any 'Bollocks' anyway.

Make of that what you will

Lord F

Going Loco down in Myrtle beach(doesn't quite have the same ring to it)

Well folks, mark down the date, the 11th of May 2012 is a historic day in the life of Lord Furnival. I finally, at the 10th time of trying won on the golf course.
Whilst it might seem that it has all been part of an elaborate hustle, I can confirm that it has not, and that finally I am beginning to strike the ball well. Actually, had it not been for the fact that I still had the finesse of a raging bull elephant around the greens, I might have even posted better than I did. Still, thoroughly enjoyable to win a few greenbacks to put towards the Myrtle beach trip I have coming up. A fairly unknown quantity this golf tournament I have been lured into playing. The only things I know for sure, are that each of the 48 participants will be trying to fleece me of my dollars, I won't be able to understand any of the Southern Carolina drawl, and the average age of Myrtle beach is 71. Let us see what they make of Harris tweed, red corduroy and the Queens English I say.  Lord F is going to go down a storm, but I shall need to have my wits about me, me thinks.

I am taking a few days off from the tournaments which have been ruling my life, to make sure I don't start talking to shadows, or trying to communicate with the mother ship. They are very mind numbing, the lengthy periods of concentration combined with the senseless table chatter one has to endure. Sun, golf and Lady Furnival should take care of the R and R, then back to the grindstone on Monday. OOOH, that reminds me, Lady Furnival Roast luncheon on Sunday, I will definitely let you all know about that (I would argue that hers are the best in all of the lands), what a way to end the weekend.

Be Lucky

Lord F

A shorter post

As soon as they hear my accent, many fellow competitors automatically chirp up with, "where you from? Australia?"
To which I politely reply, "Gosh no, dear chap, England. It's a little island in the North sea."
Well this is always greeted with a confused look, but most of them catch on in the end.
The next two questions are always, "do you support Manchester? And who are the new bands on the scene?"
I suppose there could be worse things for our country to be famous for amongst our American cousins, and I'm not about to start explaining that there are more than two football teams in Manchester. It would better to be famous for amazing history and fine cheeses but anyhow, I digress.

Whilst I wouldn't necessarily say that I am a music guru, I have been known to growl along to Shaggy, or tweak my whiskers to the spice girls in my time. I have found a band, kind of a 'folk rock' if you like. They might be a smite too 'gospel-y' but they get the thumbs up from Lord F!
Give them a try, 'Dry the river'

Be lucky

The British Empire

I have definitely noticed my postings are coming fewer and further between, and I'll be honest, I'm not happy about it. There are one or two rather feeble reasons, which don't do you readers any justice, so I'm not going to dwell on them. I think I am going to post smaller, more regular pieces as well as the longer more detailed accounts.
I have been playing, rather ALOT. It is tournament time here in the West, and the colourful city of Commerce has been sucking the life out of me, but there have been some amusing moments.
So I was sitting quietly, minding my own business (well, trying not to listen to the needless drivel one has to put up with at the table) when this chap across from me yells, 'I've got it!' and points his scrawny index finger at me. Well thinks I, I can't just ignore this fool, and so quip back, 'ahhhh, good sir, and what do you have?' and then mutter quietly, 'the clap?'
The greatest thing about the dry sense of humour we Brits have, is that a good deal of the people who live here, don't get it, added to which they never understand me anyway, but unabated he continued, 'you remind me of one of those English Lord's who colonised our country'. Cue a wry smile from Lord F, I tell you these whiskers are a jolly powerful tool.
'you just never know who might turn up at a poker table dear fellow, and which part of the empire do you happen to be from?' And as innocently as he had thrust his finger at me, he began telling me all about the British and our colonisation of Russia. Marvellous I thought, he's a stark raving loony because I'm pretty sure Russia looked far too much like hard work for us to colonise. I tell you what, he must be a fine judge of character all the same, but I switched off and went back to twiddling my moustache, with the occasional grunt.

I haven't been winning big, but I have been pretty much breaking even for the last month. It only takes one tournament to get that figure nicely up into profit, but for the time being, paying the bills and keeping a roof over the head is the priority, and that's what we're managing. I just busted one right now, and find these musings a great way to calm the nerves.
Tomorrow is another day - I wonder how many times a gambler says/thinks that in his lifetime when it doesn't quite go his way! Same thing again tomorrow, and I've got a feeling Lord F's time is coming.
'The more I practise the luckier I get' - Gary Player

Practise hard and be luckier!

Lord F

Following in the Family footsteps

I have decided that it is time to unveil the family shield and give you a brief history as to how we Furnivals obtained our Lordship. 

The First British records were found in the middle of Staffordshire, as William the Conqueror awarded land to the Norman knight Gerard De Furnival for his outstanding service in the battle of Hastings. A chip off the old block I hear you muttering.

Being a true Furnival, old Gerard had spotted that the Lord of Hallamshire, had passed and left his entire estate to his only child, young Maud a mere seven years of age. As if the vast swathe of land that he already owned wasn't enough, Great uncle Gerard demonstrated his stoic patience, in order to expand his empire. After all, what was 9 years to wait before taking the hand of young Maud in marriage, and in doing so find himself in possession of Sheffield and district and the Lordship to boot. The rest as they say 'is history'.

Well I say what a jolly good idea, I mean, if you can take the idle jibes from jealous would-be suitors, then what harm can be done by marrying into money. 

So there you have it, in six sentences. From the bravery of a wounded buffalo, the strength of a dozen elephants, the cunning of fantastic Mr. Fox and just a little bit of common sense we Furnivals had a Lordship, half of the middle of England to farm and this splendid coat of arms to swoon over.

Good job Gerald I say, and just like your expedition with William the Conqueror, I find myself over here in America fighting my own little battles, with many of the same qualities of my forefathers.

How can I fail? (oh, and pop your email address into the 'subscribe' box to the right so you don't miss any of my future posts!)

Be lucky

Lord F

'Bottoms up'

So I find myself back in sunny Los Angeles, having had a nice little winning trip to Vegas, I even won the customary sore throat from the disgusting old fool who decided to cough in my face at the table. My immune system has always managed to keep most things at bay, however for future trips to LV, I will re-evaluate my strategy and be better prepared. Vitamins and these new squirty germ killers are essential when surrounded by such a bunch of degenerates. (will probably not bother with the spa again to be honest, I'm sure I kept seeing that Texan lurking round corners)
Having come 6th in my turbo tournament for a modest return, I thought I would entertain myself with a little cabaret. In my book, there is no better entertainment, than the female form prancing around the place with no clothes on. I think gentlemen's clubs are jolly good fun, but can be a bit rowdy and crass at times so I bought myself a bottle of claret and headed to the Crazy Horse from Paris. Well, I tell you what, twenty of the finest female shapes on the planet bouncing around made for a bloody good hour or so. All done with a little 'va va voom', as only the French know how (No wonder Sarkozy is such a pervert, I think he and I would get on like a house on fire).

This particular act all you could see was hands, legs and derrières... rearly good (guffaw)

The good news is, I'm starting to cut quite a distinct figure now, with my fine arrangement of whiskers, and new hair cut. This was somewhat forced upon me as I kept being likened to this chap Borat, so in rather desperate fashion I went to see Jack the barber. Anyhow, Jack soon sorted out the birds nest of a barnet I had and with a little help from some product it no longer looks like it belongs to Kazakhstan's finest export. 

The good thing about cutting a distinct appearance is that people tend to suppose that you might be distinct. Never one to blow my own trumpet, and I would never introduce myself as 'Lord F', but in a Harris tweed jacket (finest cloth in the land) with suitably arranged facial hair it would be easy for someone to presume I was related to Royalty (I'm never going to discourage this kind of presumption, after all, if you go back far enough I'm certain we are, albeit French royalty. Mind you our Queen has German ancestry so Royalty is royalty. Enough said)

Anyway, where am I going with this, oh yes. Cue complimentary tickets to the Cirque du Soleil from the manager of the MGM, as 'we are trying to appeal to a more sophisticated guest'. Couldn't agree with you more old chap, and shows like the 'Ka' will only help with that. 

Gone are the circus days I remember with a juggling clown, tiger on a leash and some gypsy trying to pinch your wallet. This was a jolly impressive array of dancing, swinging from the roof, sword fighting and death defying stunts which even an old cynic like me loved. I would recommend to all and look forward to seeing my next 'Cirque', although the Tarzan looking chap in nothing but a diamanté cod piece flying overhead, was a little much after a heavy dinner.

I thought the MGM was a great hotel to stay in, with some of the best restaurants I have ever eaten in (slip $20 in your passport for the check in girl and free room upgrade should follow,you might need British accent too). 

As always folks 

Be lucky

Lord F

What happens in Texas, should bloody well stay in Texas.

I apologise for my lack of posts this week, I really must get myself a new laptop. This iPad device is quite tricky to type on, when you have have big fingers like mine.
You will be pleased to know that I made it up to Vegas in one piece, although not without getting stuck in a traffic jam in the Mojave desert. The car thermometer peaked at 108 degrees and I'll be honest it looked a hellish place to be stuck. Myself and Prince Michael from the East end busied ourselves at words with friends to pass the time. (I'll have to give him a few games soon, because at $10 a game I don't want to lose him!)

There is one thing any grown adult who has been to Sin City will tell you, when you are here you just walk around and smile. It is obscene, opulent, extravagant and ridiculous all in one, and is still possibly the best place on earth.
I haven't fared too badly at the tables, although have won nothing major. The fabulous news was that whilst I was lying by the pool/sitting in the spa, Michael was winning the Holdem and coming 4th in the Omaha tournaments. Alas I hear you say, Lord F how is this good for you???? Well my friends we had exchanged a nice little percentage prior to arrival and what a sweetener that has been.

On a slightly Sourer note, whilst in the spa I got chatting to a nice elderly chap from Texas. I discovered that he was a farmer, and obviously my farming background meant we could have a good natter about the cattle trade. When he asked me if I would like to go out for dinner with him, I goddamn choked on my water.
'not my cup of tea, old chap, I'm afraid. I only bat for one team, and it ain't that one'
I mean have you no shame old man?? Not a day younger than seventy years old and propositioning a man 40 years younger than yourself. I made a hasty bloody exit, I tell you, and it was almost as if he was hiding round every corner of the changing room as I attempted to stealthily get dressed away from prying eyes.

I must admit, each to their own, and hats off to his brazenness. I suppose the sight of Lord F in a towel is just too much for some to resist....

On that note I must leave you to get back to the tables. I'm sure there will be a few more tales on my return,

Viva Las Vegas

Lord F

Quintessentially British

In a brief nostalgic moment, as I brewed myself a nice cup of Tea this morning, I thought I would introduce my American friends to some of the great things we of the Queen's country enjoy which are not so easily accessible this side of the pond.
I for one am a stickler for a good brew. Don't be fooled by these impersonation Teas, whether it be green, or red or white(how the devil do you have a white tea, surely that's someone pulling the wool over your eyes?). A cup of 'black' tea with a splash of milk. If it was good enough for Queen Elizabeth I, Churchill and King Charles II then it's good enough for me, rumour has it we colonised India for the stuff, mind you, would their economy be where it is now without the guidance of us Brits back in the day? I doubt it.
What with all this talk of India and tea, it seems like a great time to introduce the most English of sports, Cricket. With all the hustle and bustle of American sport, the serenity of a game of cricket might be a tough one to follow for our high speed American fellows. I mean how can a game possibly last for 5 days and there still be no winner? How can a sport incorporate lunch and Tea as part of its playing guidelines? Well, let me tell you, that there is no better time to have a cup of tea and a scone, with lashings of whipped cream and strawberries, than in the Tea break of a game of cricket. Picnics around the boundary with the therapeutic thump of leather on willow, whilst basking in the afternoon sun in the English countryside is a fabulous way to spend a summer afternoon.
The English food has a terrible reputation amongst our distant cousins from the USA, still now I meet people who are all to hasty to rubbish the quality of the English cuisine, and quite unjustifiably so. Maybe 15 years ago when 'Pub grub' consisted of frozen ready made meals, with a bit of wilting garnish on the side, they had a case. Recently the emergence of great British Chefs has transformed our cuisine. There is nothing quite like a roasted leg of Romney Marsh lamb, with roast potatoes, broccoli, dwarf beans and parsnips lavishly coated with gravy, no matter what climate or country you find yourself in. In fact, whether it be a steak and ale pie, bangers and mash, fish and chips or a roast dinner itself, if its well cooked I would take it over nearly any other worldwide cuisine. Just ask Lady F, who happens to be one of the best cooks I have come across, regularly getting 8 and 9 out of 10 for her meals (I don't issue many 10's for fear of breeding complacency).

So there you have a little insight into Blighty my friends. The beauty of the things I have just told you I love about England (of course there are more), is I can get them here (bar the cricket maybe, although I did notice a Compton Cricket Club on the interweb which I might investigate for another post).
As I finish another fine cup of Yorkshire tea, whilst watching the end of the cricket on TV, I must bid you farewell and head out to Sin City.

As always be Lucky

Lord F

Viva Las Vegas

I'm delighted to say the mutt has gone, and whilst I desperately tried to like/be nice to the little bugger, I found it difficult. It was a very interesting mindset I found myself in. Effectively, I think there were two contributing factors in the now famous 'Rage of Lord Furnival'. Firstly, I was on edge from busting myself out of a competition, although I like to think I had a lid on it, and secondly the fact that Lady F decided not to ask me about homing the hound (she knew I would say no). I wonder how this would have all gone down had I scooped the first prize of $65,000 and strolled in as chipper as a teenager in a harlot's den. In any case, she thinks I over-reacted, I think I was well within my rights. She then tells me that it wasn't piddle I trod in barefoot, it was its number 2 - cleaned up. I rest my case.

The long awaited debut of Lord Furnival in Las Vegas is imminent. I have decided to take a trip to the MGM Grand next week to play some tournaments out there. I had a pretty successful time of things last week, 'cashing' in three of the four tournaments I played in, although all very modest amounts rather frustratingly. I have decided to adopt the attitude that a cash is a cash, and it effectively allows me to play my next set of tournaments for free, my goblet is half full I tell you.
I am very much looking forward to the trip into the desert, there is something about the place that sends a shiver to the spine. I'm sure its from all the poor souls who found themselves buried in the desert, for one misdemeanour or another. Whilst there I shall resume my golf course battle, with one of the toughest blighter's to win a dime from. Haggling for a shot or two with him is like trying to get blood out of a stone, and he shows no remorse as he collects on the 18th green; merely smirks and quips to infuriate one further. Well, heed this warning the Squire of Sin City, this time I'm out to get you.

Be lucky

Lord F

Thunder and lightning, very very frightening.

So I thought it rather apt that I keep my titles in line with my 1970's and 80's music legends, and to tell the truth it about sums up my mood for the last 18 hours (and apparently my new look makes me resemble that handsome fellow Freddie Mercury).
There I was, in full regalia, with 40 players left in the Hollywood Park $250,000 tournament. I'm not one to blow my own trumpet, but I was the best player left although a little short of chips and in my mind had begun calculating what I might do with the $67,290 first prize.
It folds to the button, and a suspicious looking chap, who incidentally raised his last button too, puts in a bigger than average raise. HA, thinks I, he's up to no good, nice little re-raise all-in, should put an end to his mischief and pick me up 35% more chips.
He called quicker than I could say 'All in' and I knew I was doomed (I had K5 for the record, and for all my alleged good player reading skills, I read that one like a Chinese book). In a fashion typical of Lord F, I rose from the table shook his paw and said 'Ah, a pair of Jacks, very nice hand sir' and went to collect my $775.
As I drove away contemplating my move, I decided from a statistical point of view, I quite liked it and I wasn't in too much of a grump. Fast forward five minutes and I was seething.
Allow me to introduce Lady Furnival. A real beauty, some might say English rose, and I would be tempted to agree and am the first to admit that I got lucky with that catch.
She understands me very well, and had gone through the following calculations/musings:

• He will be gone for at least 8 hours so I will go to the dog adoption centre for a look.
• When at the dog adoption centre gets offered a mutt for two days.
• Thinks to herself, he will be back late and will have won so will be in a good mood, and that poor creature looks so unhappy I will do a good deed and give it some love.
• disregards the fact that the landlord doesn't allow pets and returns home with said mutt.

However the reality was as follows. I get knocked out and am teetering on the edge of fury, she tells me she has adopted a dog for two days, cue the red mist. 

'What in the devils name are you thinking woman?! They stink like a sewer (and it does), If the landlady found out we could lose our lease not to mention deposit(nosey neighbour three doors down is bosom buddies with our landlady), and why the hell was I not consulted prior to this moment of madness???(after all it is my house too)' 

Well, it was all I needed to send me into a right temper, and I just couldn't think how on earth I was going to get out of it. I didn't want to drink myself into a stupor and hitting golf balls just wan't going to cut it. So I just steamed. Steamed some more, went to bed, steamed a little bit more and woke up feeling tip top.

It's a new day, I prune my whiskers and off to the golf course I shall head prior to another tournament this evening. I was fiddling away with my Ipad as I walked down the stairs, and landed my bare foot right in the middle of a puddle of dog piddle. 

Rather wisely neither she, nor the mutt were around and next time I wake up that bloody thing had better be gone.

A grumpy 

Lord F

Take a chance on me....

I was having a good chin wag with the Earl of Chestfield recently and it got me thinking about ones decision making process. I am impulsive and believe firmly in fate. Given a situation where I have to make a decision I will go with my instinct and deal with the consequences(if there are any) afterwards.
Every decision is a gamble, but each one has different odds. Some folk, will deliberate over a decision for months if not years, will try and do as much research as possible to ensure they make the correct decision in the end. The Earl has never been known for his hasty decisions, and what he is trying to do is give himself the best chance at making a correct decision. Sometimes old bean, I think the research makes the odds worse rather than better and the first instinct will be the right one.

I have recently made a big decision. I sold my property, and I moved to this fine land. How long did I deliberate over this? around 10 minutes. I had to consult with the people in my life who this would directly affect, and then off to market it went. (The Earl thought I was a fool)

So why do people procrastinate.

CHANGE. People are scared of change. They like to know where things are in the store(95%), they like to know they will earn x per month in their existing occupation(90%), they like to know where the nearest wench they can rattle is(30%) and they like to know where the local Inn is and what scran they can expect when they get there(60%).
It is definitely a Gamblers prerogative to consider the positives rather than the negatives of a decision. I never think 'how much will I lose here', I will always think 'how much could I win'.
Thinking back there are very few decisions that I made in the spur of the moment that were regrettable. Maybe a dalliance or two, or there was a time when few sharp words landed us in a scrape, but nothing that the Earl and I couldn't wriggle our way out of.

It is only early days but I love America. The people are so jolly(not just the ones who want something), the sun shines 6 days out of 7, there is a 50 mile coastline on my doorstep, there is 24 hour poker in five different casinos all within a stones throw and I'll be dammed if the Yankee damsel's don't have the biggest breasts in all of the lands(must by something in the water).
I'm sure there are negatives, but because I'm still so excited by the positives I don't see them or they don't yet rile me.

In the words of Sweden's most famous export, 'Take a chance' fellows and you will reap the rewards.

Be Lucky

Bubbling Hot

The thing about poker, is it is one of few sports where you can play perfectly, not make one mistake, not put a foot out of place and still end up losing. This is why it is such an emotional roller coaster and the ability to control ones temper is imperative to prevent making mistakes further down the line. Now whilst I do have an extremely long fuse, and very rarely do I need to lose my temper to make myself heard yesterday was a testing time indeed.
Having sat in the same seat for 6 hours, whilst 112 players had fallen by the wayside I found myself with 11 players left in a tournament, 10 of whom would finish 'in the money'. In poker terms this is known as the 'bubble', and is without doubt the most irritating place to end up. Good players change their play around this time to put other players to the test, because they know most people want to get some return for their endeavours, and try and hang on for the bubble to burst. Other players are just idiots.
I don't really blame the guy for moving all of his chips in with Ace, 4 because most of the time he will have the best hand and he wasn't a good player, but when I look down at Ace, King I couldn't push my chips in quickly enough. The problem with his play (and I had been lurking in wait for him to make this mistake because he had done it time and again), is that he was 3rd overall in chips and I was 4th. He didn't need to risk such a large portion of chips when he was going to be at best a 25% chance to win the pot, if I called him. The bottom line is, it was a perfect spot for me had the poker gods been smiling on me.
Needless to say the first card out was the 4 of hearts, one of three in the deck he could have hit to win the pot and I had to bite my tongue in gentlemanly fashion and scarper for the door, with a return of $0 before I said anything I might regret. I don't smoke and nowadays lashings with a cat o' nine tails has gone out of fashion, so I need a temper abating solution. I might try a pipe, because you can get some wonderfully fruity flavoured tobacco.

Be luckier than me

Lord F

The Glamour

I'm sure many of you are thinking, surely a Lord would only play in the best establishments across the world.
The poker rooms must have beautiful gaudy décor and crystal chandeliers, and the notoriety of opponent must range from the Count of Monte Carlo and the Duke of Westminster to Baron Von Rothschild.

Lord F supping his favoured tipple, a Whisky sour which was hand crafted by the hands of a beautiful model, being spoon fed oysters and caviar, as she giggles at his endless wit and charm. Using his cunning to get a few 'hectares from the estate' or the Aston Martin keys 'thrown' into the pot.

It's an illusion I don't want to discourage my readers from having,

                      Baxter contemplates chucking the keys to the Bentley into the pot

AH... I didn't see this

I may not have been quite so enthusiastic to save my $4 had I seen this sign! Oh, and my tips for the Masters should be each way, if its not too late.

Shake, Rattle and Roll

There seem to be two things in this world which one can be really bad at, but still enjoy. Sex and Golf. What better week than the US Masters to write my first post regarding this fabulous past time. (I know Tiger is back but I'm talking about golf)

One of the fantastic things about this splendid country is the pride that people take in their jobs (because of the tipping culture), and it is for this reason I believe that the golf courses are in better condition than their counterparts elsewhere in the world. Of course I think the climate also plays a big part, it must be harder to have carpet perfect fairways, if said fairway spends three months of each year under either snow or water.

Golf is a fantastic sport to bet on, because if so inclined, there are hundreds of opportunities to gamble in each round. On the flip side, unless you know the people you are playing against it is fraught with danger, because people don't necessarily tell you how good they are. 

I did manage to find myself in a real dilemma out there in Rustic Canyon. From one of my stray tee shots with my usually reliable three iron my ball headed deep into the brush. Us British are a resilient lot, and rather than surrender my pro V 1 ball($4) to nature, I grabbed my longest club and strode off into the undergrowth. With a keen eye and a little bit of luck I spotted my ball and had just started wriggling through to it when I heard a sound I had not heard before, but it sure as hell stopped me in my tracks. A rattle. 

Quick process of elimination told me it wasn't a babies toy, and there is only one thing really that I am petrified of, snakes (good only for shoes, handbags and belts). From my frozen position I managed to locate the noisy bugger, about three feet to the right of my ball and we had a good old fashioned stare off. It won, as I rather hastily backtracked through the undergrowth and declared that ball lost.

Needless to say the chap whom I played with, who had 8 pars and a birdie from a handicap of 18, won the round and I returned home with considerably lighter pockets than I arrived with. I shan't mention his name for fear of curtailing his action around the course, but will most certainly be playing with him again as he is a thoroughly nice chap.

From this next paragraph I don't want any of you complaining if my predictions are not 100% accurate, after all I am only human and expect to be somewhere around 97% mark.

As most of you will know it is the Masters 2012 so here are a few each way tips to make your viewing that bit more exciting. I think it is too soon for Tiger, who after winning one tournament is immediately the bookies favourite. I like Angel Cabrera (mainly because he likes fine wine, steak and cigars) at 80/1, Steve Stricker at 50/1, Hunter Mahan at 34/1 and KJ Choi at 70/1.

Be Lucky fellows

Lord F

Quotes to live by

Here are a few quotations to ponder:

Oscar Wilde
"anyone who lives within their means shows a serious lack of imagination"
"always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much"
"genius is born, not paid"

John Hay
"true luck consists not in holding the best cards at the table; luckiest is he who knows when to rise and go home"

T.S.Elliot
"only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go"

Voltaire
"each player must accept the cards life deals him or her: but once they are in hand, he or she alone must decide how to play the cards in order to win the game"

Rest and Recuperation

As many of you will know, the key to being on top of your game comes from being in optimum mental condition (although I rarely stray from this mindset). Having had a somewhat frustrating week at the tables, I thought I would let my hair down and take in some sport.
Sword fighting, Jousting and jesting whilst having my goblet refuelled by buxom wenches was just what the doctor ordered. 

A dozen goblets of ale later, my pockets lined with crisp green-backs thanks to the victorious blue knight and a wench on my arm seemed to straighten the mind out no end.

Back to the tables tomorrow (hic)

Clarification Post

While I must point out that my blog will always be written with my tongue firmly in my cheek, I feel my first post could have been misunderstood by some. My mention;

 "I have yet to come across any member of the female species who doesn't appreciate a well mannered, well spoken, well turned out gentleman and yet they are few and far between on these shores. Granted, the Hollywood Park casino in the heart of Inglewood is hardly the home of many subscribers to  "Debrett’s Guide to Etiquette, Taste & Achievment”  and therefore may not be the best place to cast my net with such a generalisation of America"


was not a 'bash' at the American people, more an observation that the Hollywood Park Casino might not be the best place to judge American people by. 
That is all.


Lord F

Bluffing

So I find myself in the Bicycle casino in Bell Gardens, California, having just moved all of my chips into the middle in a perfect bluff position. I 'obviously' have the best hand, my story makes perfect sense and there is no way he can make the call. While I wait for the elderly chinese gentleman to pass away his cards I remember this story.....

My Grandfather, the late, great Lord William Furnival, once taught me one of the most important lessons I ever learnt. People bluff all of the time and there is no better feeling than a great bluff, whether it be at the felt or in the workplace. However, for a bluff to work the person being bluffed, must believe it. The story must make sense.
I was 10 years old and had been at the races all day, a lovely spring afternoon in the rolling hills of the English countryside. My grandfather was never one to shy away from a tipple and being a popular chap, was never short of offers from people for a single malt or two (25 year old Glendronach if anyone was wondering). When it came to home time, I clambered up into his Land Rover and buckled myself in. I don't advocate drink driving, and all of my readers should remember the law is there to protect us...Alas, as we were making our way towards the exit gate, with numerous members of her majesties constabulary orchestrating the traffic,I feared he had no chance of breaking the line.
He wound down his window(to oust the smell of whisky from the vehicle) lit his pipe (apple and cherry tobacco) and said "good day to you occifer". And with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye made his way off down the road.
The policeman must have stood there thinking that there could not have been a man, who would exercise such brazenness if he had really been drinking and wouldn't have wasted another moment to think about it.

The elderly Chinese gentleman looks at his watch,(I think uh-oh this doesn't look good): he says cheerfully 'I guess its home time' (damn and blast, he's not going to fold) Then he gradually puts his chips into the pot and says 'I got an ace' (which is comfortably the best hand)
In the spirit of always taking every outcome in the best possible manner, I straighten my blazer and say 'frightfully well played' to the old fool and calmly call the doorman to fetch my carriage.

Be Lucky

Lord F

"To err is human, to forgive is divine" - Huggy Bear, 2004

Now the thing about being a Lord in America, is that they don't really exist. In the words of Snoop Dogg the title of this first post is a quote from the 'greatest Mack of all', The Lord. The one and only Lord.. Omniscient, omnipotent and omnipresent!

 I'm not trying to say that I have some sort of divine powers and I'm not trying to start a cult following which might end up making the news for all of the wrong reasons, but what my title bestows upon me is a promise to a set of values, values that do not seem omnipresent in this great land.

 My Father, and his Father before him have said to me, 'manners maketh man'. I have yet to come across any member of the female species who doesn't appreciate a well mannered, well spoken, well turned out gentleman and yet they are few and far between on these shores. Granted, the Hollywood Park casino in the heart of Inglewood is hardly the home of many subscribers to  "Debrett’s Guide to Etiquette, Taste & Achievment”  and therefore may not be the best place to cast my net with such a generalisation of America. In time these writings will discuss the people, the problems, and the places of this fabulous continent, hopefully conveyed in an amusing way through the eyes of a sophisticated member of the English Nobility.

 I imagine the question on everybody's lips is: 'but why America, Lord Furnival?' and I can but answer - what a great place to start.

 I've never been described as much of a grafter, more Gatsby than Getty. In fact it could be argued that I never had much hunger for any kind of work, (an accusation at which I take umbrage, I just haven't found a travail that stimulates me enough!) Where I have never shirked from “grinding it out” however, and where I find my “strongest suit” is with people. So, imagine my joy and rapture when I discovered there was a way I could make money from people, specifically by beating them at cards. Ever since that realisation (and it was like a moment of divine inspiration) it has seemed like the obvious and natural route for me to head down. Imagine the consternation in friends and family when they discovered that Poker, or in their eyes gambling, was my chosen pastime. The risk, the ruin, everything at stake on the turn of a card, the luck. I'm not going to pretend there haven't been downs, because there has and there will be again, but over time and with the right tools at my disposal it will be possible to forge a successful living out of poker.

 What better place to start my quest than the home of Texas Holdem, well not quite because I'm in California, but pretty close!

 Its probably worth noting at this juncture, my inclination to gamble on anything with anyone, whilst trying to eek out any sort of an advantage. Whether this be winning dinner over the identity of the singer of a song on the radio, or one or two bucks on a round of golf on any of the fabulous courses over here, there is ample opportunity to gamble. (the golf hustle is another story for another blog, but lets just say I have yet to find one of these yankees who actually has a genuine handicap!!).

 As the old saying goes...'it's a hard way to make an easy living' is this poker lark, but if in the mean time I can find a way to amuse the readers of my blog then I will be achieving a little more than just the $ of my opponents.

Be lucky,

Lord F