IRISH POKER CHAMPIONSHIPS RTE Two, Friday MATCH OF THE DAY BBC One, Wednesday WALFRID . . . AN CHEID CEILTEACH TG4, Monday SO you didn't win the Euro Millions. And you still harbour that dream of knocking back half a shandy among the denizens of the Dail Bar. Fear not, there's always poker. Everybody's doing it. After popping into Paddy Power to collect her winnings last time, Mary Harney will probably celebrate the next election by investing in shades and cigar and kicking some whiny socialist ass in Texas Hold 'em.
RTE had highlights of the Irish Championships the other night, which were sponsored by a bookmaker who got more than enough publicity after shouting about losing very little on the Michael Gomez fight last week. Among the hundreds of hopefuls were the glamorous celebrity players.
Steve Davis, Alex Higgins, Ken Doherty. Well, glamour to a certain demographic.
Ah thank Christ, it's Tommy Tiernan, with the look of a man grateful to have emerged from the tyranny of online poker and finding himself back among real people. "These lads have titanium balls, " he wailed. "I feel like Aled Jones at an Aslan gig."
The camera began to spin as the cards were dealt in the qualifiers, while the only sound you could hear was thousands of chips clicking and clacking. Soft porn for amateur poker players, and this bit's the orgy. The celebrities lost out, Tiernan failing to find the force. "The lad that won, he was like Anakin Skywalker, blond hair, hoodie, there was f**kin evil at work there anyway."
The final had eight players and three commentators.
Main dude Mike Carlson had an American accent, presumably in tribute to the excitable Jesse 'cash me in' May, fondly remembered by viewers of Late Night Poker on Channel 4. Pretty sure Carlson admitted to being English during the commentary, an admission that stunned cocommentator and Irishman Tony 'Big Cas' Cascarino into shocked silence.
It took more than 24 hours to separate the guys at the final table so what we saw was mercifully edited highlights, usually hands in which competitors staked their lot and ended up going home. Unlike the TV poker we're used to though, all the players had the irritating tendency to get up and mill around the table whenever they opted out of a hand so by the time the cards were shown it was like midafternoon at the mart.
One by one they fell, all very reluctant to reveal to host Sean Moncrieff what they'd do with the few grand they'd picked up for their sleepless nights. You waited for one of them to go "Well Sean, I'll be servicing the interest on some of my horrific debts and hopefully that swarthy gentleman who occasionally stands outside my house while hitting the palm of his hand with a baseball bat might go away for a while. Cheers!"
Eventually it was Keith 'Flipper' Walsh who emerged triumphant. Now, it was late at this stage, but this was clearly Keith Barry with an even more ridiculous haircut, who had managed to hypnotise everyone into thinking he was someone else. And so confident was he in his abilities he didn't even bother to change his first name. "It's an honour, " he said as he collected his cheque for 150,000. We bet it was Flipper, if that is your real name.
Speaking of free money, there was very little of it made by punters on Wednesday evening as the Premiership went a bit odd.
After flicking between Arsenal getting Hammered and Sky's Soccer Special to wonder who David Bentley was and check on God's introduction at Anfield, one couldn't help but feel sorry for the editors at Match of the Day, who had to cobble the lot together for public consumption within 45 minutes. They performed admirably, and made one regret wasting the previous two hours of their lives looking at Rob McCaffrey.
Why couldn't the same be said about BBC's studio residents though? This drum has been banged for nigh on a couple of years now but it's somehow getting worse. Yes, worse. Mark Lawrenson called David Bentley David Bellamy. Hansen and Lineker could not stop giggling. That's not funny lads. Not. Funny. And then Lawrenson, swear to God, wiped his eye. As if he had been driven to tears by his own innate hilariousness.
We're getting sick of saying it and you're probably sick of reading it. End this, please.
It's not even laughable any more.
Finally, on Monday night TG4 showed a tidy little documentary on Andrew Kerins, founder of Celtic and better known as Brother Walfrid. For die-hards or those that want to know exactly why you see nothing but tricolours at Celtic Park, the repeat on this evening after the Gah is worth a look.
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