The winner takes it all.

I have many guilty pleasures in life: coffee, Taylor Swift and laughing at people who fall over their own feet are just a few, one of my long term loves however is scratchcards. I’m not sure if it’s the eternal hope that one day I’ll become rich from something that requires little to no effort to do or my general idiocy and weak-willed personality that spurs me on to purchase them far too often. Anyway, I was purchasing some essentials such as starbucks in a can at the local shop today when my eyes gazed over the scratchcards at the till, aha my lucky day. I was confident I was going to be a winner for two reasons:

  1. The lovely man who served me was convinced it was a lucky ticket, and I’ll believe anything anyone tells me as long as it’s positive.
  2. I have an unhealthy amount of misplaced confidence in myself and most things I do considering my track record, especially with scratchcards.

Filled with newly discovered hope I trotted home, already louging about on the yacht I’d purchased in my mind, ready to see how much I’d won. This was it, the moment of truth, already shaking from the double espresso in a can I’d just had, 2p in hand, I scratched away at the ticket. I almost simultaneously cried and shit myself when I saw I’d won £500, until I took a second look and realised my winnings amounted to a grand total of £2. Lesson to be learnt from this: don’t pin all of your life hopes on a scratchcard or trust the word of your local shopkeeper.


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