It could be you, weeping over the lost millions

Sorry for the lack of updates, and an especial apology to Missing Neighbour, who gets highly strung if he doesn't get a regular dose of Skin Flicks. I've been lazy. It happens.

Anyhow, the ancient curse of sending a moron to get your lottery ticket has struck again, this time in Belgium, where a syndicate are around €27 million poorer this week.

It is an unerring rule of lotto number picking that the week you change your numbers, fail to buy a ticket, or send a moron to pick up your ticket for you is the very week that your numbers come up.

This dates back to the ancient days of football pools long ago, when any deviation from carefully crossing off the same numbers every week would spell certain doom to your likelihood of becoming filthy rich.

I particularly like the bizarre recriminations that such events always leave behind though.

"In twenty years time, my hair will stand on end if I ever see that bitch," one poor Belgian is thought to have (approximately) said about the muppet she sent to get the ticket.

Nice grudge bearing there. We should give that lass Northern Irish citizenship for bearing grudges above and beyond the call of duty.

Here's the skinny, though. The lottery is a tax on stupidity. The more you spend on lottos, the thicker you are. Give up now, and watch your IQ and bank balance soar.

Furthermore, if you want something done right, do it yourself. Really want the same numbers on your ticket every week? Then go buy the ticket yourself and don't send a moron to do it, you lazy sod.

And finally, like an Irish ambassador I knew once used to say, whatever it is you'd spend your lottery winnings doing, just go and do it anyway. There's more likelihood of you managing to fulfil your dreams for less money than there is of winning the national lottery.

Don't put your dreams on ice for lack of money, people. There are plenty of ways to skin an egg. Here endeth the sermon.