The point behind Poker?

It doesn't take much persuasion for me to find myself inside an ale house of some variety, so when I was invited to a Pudsey hostelry by an old mate, I didn't stop to ask many questions.









Upon arriving at said establishment, it became clear that the night would not be consisting of numerous drinks, pool and darts but instead, would be featuring eight individuals sat around a green table who would take in excess of one hour to pass around some bits of cardboard and some coloured plastic discs.

It quickly became apparent that this particular venue was part of some "Live Pub Poker League" and that these scenes were becoming increasingly common within those four walls. As a complete novice, I stood well back, but my friend had no intention in explaining to me the intricacies of Texas Hold 'em.

So I sat just over his shoulder, not saying much for fear of distracting him and upsetting the hoard of locals who could tell that I "wasn't from round 'ere". Instead I just watched and nodded as he turned around and told me "that's a good hand, that is" and "he's bluffing, he is".

The game itself is as boring as sin. For reasons I still don't understand, players were dropping out after various rounds and in the end, two players were left to battle it out. My mate actually emerged victorious to take the grand prize of £11 that had been so valiantly fought for. That said, my opinions obviously count for little, Poker is a massive industry and has acquired a global media appeal.

Sky Sports, in fairness, do their very best to sensationalise the whole event. Titles such as "Poker Million Masters" are obviously designed to give the idea of six fat blokes at a table a little bit more of an appeal and sticking heart-rate monitors on the players and having a whole host of graphics appear on screen make for compelling viewing after you get home from the pub at 1:00am.

The pub itself was hardly Pudsey's most upmarket establishment. The choice of beer being limited to nothing worth consumption, the overwhelming prevalence of Burburry clad 17-year-olds and the illegal sale of Eastern-European duty free cigarettes from behind the bar spoke volumes.

Still, these places serve a purpose I suppose.