It wasn't the football and cricket chat that used to bore me shitless, it was the bloody golf.
All the alpha-male posturing and guffawing about the 19th hole - Christ, I wanted to stuff my ears with paperclips just so I didn't have to listen.
Made my day once though - all the big knobs were going on a company jolly to the races and my boss jokingly asked me for a tip for the big race. So I consulted the newspaper and picked one (I knew it had a good chance, top jockey, trainer had a lot of success at that racecourse, weights not too bad and I thought the chief opposition wasn't as good as they made out). I told him which horse to bet on, and gave him £1 to put a bet on for me as well.
16-1 it was, and it came in first by quite a long way. He'd forgotten to put the bets on, partly because I'm only a female he didn't take me seriously, partly because he was in the bar most of the time.
Where's my winnings, I asked him - he laughed it off, so I took £17 out of the petty cash tin and put an IOU in there with his name on it 