"I hope you tell your readers that I beat you at Scrabble," said my nemesis Grub Smith, who at this point had not in fact beating me, but was holding a slender lead of some 30 points and it was my turn. Grub Smith is obsessed with Warming Up and desperate to be seen as some kind of hero because he feels I only catalogue his defeats and his rat-based disgraces.
I was round at my friend Johnny's house taking part in another Scrabble unofficial tournament. None of the scary genius Scrabble ladies were present so there was a chance I might win. Poker has rather dominated my year and I haven't been playing much of the game which once preoccupied me.
In fact the official tournament in February was pretty much the last time I played, except for a few ill-tempered games with Diane where we didn't have a dictionary and so just argued about all the words we put down.
It was nice to get back to my old reliable friend. Poker is a two-faced mistress who brings you more pain than sorry, but Scrabble whilst slightly fickle is much more reliable and you are never punished for making a good move. I had been a bit rusty in my first game and lost by a very narrow margin, but then easily won my next two games and here I was facing my enemy Grub, who was trying to intimidate me with his confident blathering.
"There is still some way to go, my fine syphillitic friend," I told him, "But I will be sure to let the Warming Up readers know the result, don't you worry about that. You have never beaten me at anything and I would be surprised if you defeat me at the thing that I am the best at in the world, outside of a few thousand nerds who need to get a life."
"I came third in your poker tournament, beating you by miles, but you never mentioned that. Just the fact that some woman hit you with a badminton racquet."
"It's badmington, Grub. Even a child knows that. And I will never tell my readers about your third placing. It's important that they see you as an impotent and unsuccessful figure whose life is never quite as exciting or successful as mine."
I then played the word "risks" on a triple word score, with the K on a double word score and leapt into the lead. I ended up beating him by 46 points and I think it's important that you are informed of this, as he seemed very keen for you to know the result when he was winning.
I was second in the tournament, behind Johnny who has beaten me in the first game, so we had a rematch for the title. I thrashed him by about 150 points and he looked like he might cry and he said it should be best of three. So I let the baby have his bottle and played him again. I was winning by about 30 points with only a couple of letters left. There was no way I could lose. But he fluked a bingo with "enquired" and it was all over. But I let him win. I didn't want a man weeping in his own home. Winning or losing is not important to me. I am not a competitive person.
As long as I continue to beat that loser Grub Smith, who has NEVER beaten me at anything
and has a tankard emblazoned with the word "Loser" to prove it.
