whilst one could argue each and every day sees something monumental happen it is, all the same, that the events which occurred on the nineteenth day of february of this year (2026, look you see) shall long be remembered. it was on that day when, with the world distracted by a sixty six year old chap with a well documented penchant for pizza assisting the constabulary in a particular matter, it came to light that a faction of the renowned (and now feared) Preston Historical Society went full tilt militant. a formidable reality of this, which we are all going to need to accept, is that they weren't entirely wrong to do so.
should for some reason you be unaware of this (and that reason would likely be the world press and media giving blanket coverage to the other thing) it emerged that a Preston based quasi brasserie had, for fun, erected (so to speak) a plaque claiming it was the site where Toto wrote Africa, that song what is rather unfairly the only one anyone recalls the band doing. unwisely, so as to make the joke more authentic, they opted to use the logo and aesthetics of the celebrated Preston Historical Society without permission to do so. the consequences and fallout from this were abrupt and brutal, with the details of the whole sorry, disturbing matter being here.
one could say that in any sort of conflict there is, ultimately, no "winner". just survivors. at this stage it is not exactly clear how many casualties either side have. perhaps now is not the time to consider the full ramifications of it all, what with the wounds still being raw. that said, one does have to concede the PHS (to save me typing Preston Historical Society) had a reasonable point, for one cannot just go around using others' proprietary with neither licence nor permission, even if no malice or overt profit was intended. yet i am not sure the appropriate way to address such (or remonstrate) is to send a division of loyalists armed with screwdrivers to go and sort it out. certainly this does not really strike me as being within the remit of the English way of doing things.
my main interest in all of this was, of course, how it could all be exploited for financial gain. as it turned out this was in a quite straightforward way, since (somewhat unfortunately) this all kicked off (so to speak) on (or at) the precipice of Blackburn Rovers vs Preston North End. for those unaware, this is indeed an association football match, but one not quite like any other. suggesting it's the biggest, most anticipated and hotly contested on the sporting calendar is a bit of an understatement. it's a fixture which sees a significant percentage of the world watch on, knowing the pride and prestige of what most call with reverence the Walton le Dale derby is up for grabs.
gambling is a sinister vice, yet one which is actively encouraged in this country. were it so that they money i spend on cigarettes be spent on betting instead i would be celebrated for it, with people saying things like "nice one" and what have you. don't really get that, but i think i am supposed to shut up about it and just swallow all the adverts expressing the joys of making a wager.
knowing that Preston were damaged, that they would be hurt, by the ipso facto civil war which had broken out over the provenance of a song i felt (extremely) confident that Blackburn would take advantage. i was quite sure that they would emerge victors, and so i went to the bookies and backed them for twenty five large, ladies and gentlemen. yes, i placed the amount of 25p on them to win. risky, i know, but sometimes one has to take a chance, roll the dice, live a little.
certainly it was all, as i had anticipated, a Blackburn win. so, above, is the filthy lucre won from my admittedly exploitative bet. that is indeed, as i am sure you can count, forty six large i have pocketed from the match. would have been even more, mind, if Blackburn had f****d them 5-0 or more, but never mind that, the 1-0 was sufficient, and i have profited from this moment in history.
how far off is the dawn of the day Preston knows peace once more? difficult to determine. certainly it is so that now people resoundingly know not to f*** with the PHS (once again, sorry for using the initials for Preston Historical Society, it just saves on me typing Preston Historical Society again. although i could have just "copied and pasted" i suppose), not unless they are braced for the reprisals.
do i feel any sort of sense of guilt, or shame, from open, aggressive profiteering out of it all? a little, i suppose, maybe even kind of. yet not as much as you might think.
be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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