I run a private campground. One of the things I have to think about is fire management. Obviously, there’s a lot of wood around here. And obviously, if the campground goes up in flames, I lose my livelihood. I do some land management to protect against that by clearing out dry underbrush periodically and put in rules about fire pits and my staff make routine inspections to make sure they’re followed. Many of you have suggested using fire as a weapon against the inhuman things and each time I point out that this is a forest and while we don’t have a lot of dry wood, the odds of the entire thing going up are not zero. And then I went and threw a molotov cocktail into a room entirely made of wood. In my defense, it wasn’t technically in the campground. Only very technically. If you’re new here, you should really start at the beginning and if you’re totally lost, this might help. Beau’s assistance had cleared the thorns from my body. I spent a miserable few days coughing up plant matter. At least it’s winter so we don’t have much work to do and I could sit in my house and play video games as a distraction. I’m super obsessed with Octopath Traveler right now. There were still the thorns planted throughout the campground to deal with, however. I wasn’t terribly worried. We had the stone, the one that contained the thorn’s death, and all I had to do was summon Beau and figure out what the next step was. Of course, when I summoned him, he didn’t show. I had even made hot chocolate with a bit of Bailey’s. So I drank it all myself and then fueled by booze and a sugar high, I went tromping through the snow to find him. The thought of him being in danger or otherwise unable to respond was only a vague worry. He’s been elusive ever since I refused to go to the harvesters. It’s hard to tell if he’s angry at me or just being moody. It certainly isn’t because I’m good enough with a knife that I don’t need his help anymore. I intended to ask him what the problem was, once I found him. I decided to walk along the road through the deep woods, as that was both the safest place and where he tended to be found. It took a few days of hiking around the campsite, but I eventually found Beau. He was up ahead on the road, waiting for me. As I approached, he turned and began walking again, so that I could catch up and we walked along side-by-side. “I haven’t seen you much,” I said tentatively. “I’m avoiding you.” “That’s obvious.” I waited, but no explanation was forthcoming. “Did I… upset you?” He seemed genuinely confused as to why, so I explained how I saw the situation. How I’d ignored his suggestion and gone to the hall of the gummy bears instead. He gave a soft laugh at that and reminded me - once again - that he was not human. “Why would I take offense?” he asked. “You made a choice that was yours to make.” “Then why are you avoiding me?” We walked along in silence for a bit more and the only sound was the packed snow crunching beneath our feet. I was careful to keep some distance between us, keenly aware that my mere presence was contrary to his nature. Like magnets, I thought, pushing each other away. “You’re marked for death,” he finally sighed. “It hovers over your head like a halo. Here is my mark, wrought of blood.” He stepped close and gestured, his hand passing through the space a few inches from my hair. “There are more, now. All of these bargains and debts you’ve accumulated, twisting together into a cord that will someday settle tight around your neck and take away your life.” “And you’re bound to me,” I whispered. He took a single step backwards, dropping his hand by his side, his expression grim. “I feel the fomorian’s mark upon me as well. I do not care to accumulate more.” I asked him to describe them to me. He hesitated, and then very reluctantly, told me a few. One of shadow, trailing in the wind as if the slightest breeze would eradicate it. I suppose that’s what happens when the person who made that mark is trapped inside the thing in the dark. Good riddance to him. Another of iron, shattered now, and crumbling. The lady with extra eyes. One of thorns, marking the intent of the fomorian. And of course, a crown of teeth. A very old crown, passed down along the family line. The claim of the beast. There were more, he said, but he refused to elaborate. He seemed uneasy, as if merely describing them was more familiarity than he cared to have. I didn’t press. Honestly, I’m not sure I want to know exactly how many creatures have it out for me. I’d probably never sleep again out of paranoia. He soon turned off the road and into the woods. I followed a bit more slowly, struggling through the deep snow. The temperature has been in the teens lately, with the windchill bringing it down to single digits. I envied Beau and his total indifference to the cold. He led me to a patch of thorns. It was one I knew of already and had tried to uproot. The snow around it was mixed with loose soil from earlier attempts. Let me tell you - it is really tough to dig up bushes in the middle of the winter with the ground as frozen as it is. Beau extended his cup and held it up over the thorns. He tilted it, slowly, until a thin stream of liquid poured forth. It steamed in the cold air and melted the snow where it struck the ground at the base of the thorns. “Is that it?” I asked softly. “This will kill them?” “Yes. My cup carries the stone’s essence and the roots of the thorns will drink deeply of their own death.” “I’m surprised you’re helping me so directly.” “It’s not just for you,” he replied, his eyes narrowed as he watched the contents of his skull steam in the snow. “This is my home and as you recall, I am unable to leave it. I have no desire to be ruled by a tyrant.” A thought occurred to me. “Do the other inhabitants feel the same?” “Of course. Do you recall how the musician saved you from the horse?” Ah. I’d not thought too much of it at the time. I was helping them out with the children, after all, so it stood to reason that they’d want to repay the favor by saving my life. We stood in silence for a bit longer, watching the thorns shrivel into withered, dry branches where the liquid from Beau’s cup had touched them. I could only imagine the roots were now doing the same. Tentatively, I reached out and tapped one of the afflicted branches. It broke off as if it were made of spun sugar and smashed into dust when it landed in the snow. As if it’d been dead for centuries. “Could I get help from the other inhabitants of the campground?” I asked. “I know the fairy doesn’t want help, but we still have to deal with the formorian’s indirect effects on the land.” “Don’t,” Beau replied sharply. “You would only endanger them. They won’t take such a risk.” “You’re helping me,” I said pointedly. He grunted and turned his back to me, walking back towards the road. “I was already marked by my association with you,” he said. When I was trapped in the dream that the master of the vanishing house had wove for me, I told it that I could not love it, for everything I love dies. It feels like another lifetime ago. I withdrew my hand from the bush and stuffed it in my pocket as I hastily followed Beau. He went from bush to bush, repeating the process with each. After a few more I realized that my presence was entirely unnecessary and probably even annoying to him, so I awkwardly thanked him and excused myself. I went back to the house and played more video games. I only felt a little guilty about it. The next day I stumbled into the kitchen and brewed coffee. Then, mug in hand, I went to the kitchen table and pulled back the curtains to get some early morning sunlight. Beau was standing directly outside. I screamed in surprise and dropped my mug. It was my “Live, Laugh, Love” mug that I took from the camp lost and found so it wasn’t a huge loss. We wind up with quite a few mugs in lost and found and hardly any of them get claimed. After a year they become camp property. I can’t remember the last time I bought myself a mug. I invited Beau in while I cleaned up the mess. He hovered uncomfortably in the archway between the kitchen and the living room, not saying anything. Only when I was done mopping up coffee did I turn and ask him what he wanted. He presented his cup in mute explanation. Only a small drop of liquid remained inside. “Where’s the pebble?” I asked, going to get my sharpest kitchen knife. “I still have it, in case the fomorian plants more thorns.” Blood from that which was already there. Blood freely given. I held out my palm and let my blood drop into the cup. “Where do you plan on getting the blood forcibly taken?” I asked softly. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. The only staff on site during the winter were my most trusted people, like Ed and Bryan. I didn’t want any of them to be targets. “I want to leave the campground.” I sucked in an involuntary breath. He wanted to take blood from someone outside my land. One of the townspeople, perhaps. They’d thrown an uproar over him poisoning a few people on Halloween. I hated to think how they’d react to him stabbing someone. “Do you have someone in mind?” I asked. “I do.”“Will you kill them?” “Will my answer change your decision?” No. It would not. I needed Beau. And Perchta’s warning… well, it was not so black and white as I’d assumed. There was some flexibility here. I wish I were surprised by how easily I slipped back into old habits. The same old rationalizations. Better someone else’s life than my own. Better a stranger’s life than someone I know. It feels inevitable that I would resort to this. It takes more than a threat to turn someone into a good person. I won’t apologize. I won’t make excuses. You know what kind of person I am. I did the calculations, weighed my options, and this is what I chose. I got my car keys and told Beau to come with me. We went to someone that lived on the outskirts of town. It took a while to get there, as Beau couldn’t tell me what roads to turn on. He could only give directions in a vague sense, such as east or west. At least he was patient. He barely moved, sitting in the passenger seat, not wearing a seatbelt, with his cup cradled against his chest. Finally, he told me we’d arrived and I pulled into the driveway of a small house surrounded by a stretch of overgrown field that was subsequently swallowed up by forest. A black pickup truck was parked in the gravel driveway. Beau got out. I stayed where I was for a moment, nervously holding onto the steering wheel, and then I reluctantly followed him. Better if I saw this through. I had to know what I’d done. He knocked on the door. A man in his late forties, perhaps, answered. His hair was thinning. He squinted at Beau suspiciously. And Beau… gestured with one hand. Just a simple half-twist of his wrist. The man coughed. Blood spurted out of his mouth. It streamed from his nose. And my insides twisted with horror as his eyes began to leak blood, as it spilled out through his tear ducts. It beaded up on his forehead, forced out through every one of his pores. It streamed out of him through every available channel, soaking his clothing, dripping from his ears, and he twitched and shook and choked as his skin grew white and his heart raced and then finally collapsed on itself. He landed face-first onto the pavement of his porch. The blood floated above him as a red mist and Beau made another subtle gesture, directing it to gracefully stream like a river through the air and into his cup. There was far more blood than the vessel could contain - an entire human body’s worth - but the cup never overflowed. It filled and filled, brilliant crimson like a ruby, until there was none left to take. The bloodless corpse lay on the ground with not a mark on it to indicate what had happened. I realized that my hands were trembling. I struggled to move, to find my voice. Beau turned around and faced me and there was a soft, satisfied smile on his face. “Have you always been able to do that?” I demanded, my voice coming out higher than I’d prefer, betraying my panic. “Yes.” The expression on the man’s face was burned into my mind. His desperate agony, tears of blood streaming down his cheeks, his body rigid as his own blood clawed its way free of his veins. I tried to banish it with something else. Anything else. “So the time I found a body like that and spent three weeks hanging garlic up everywhere thinking we had a vampire on the campground… that was you?” “Yes.” I took a breath, trying to calm my nerves. “Do you have any idea how much I spent on garlic?!” “Do I care?” I whirled away from him and stalked back to the car, digging my hands into my hair. Okay, the garlic didn’t matter. I just… that was what came to my mind first. Trying to bury what I’d just seen in something more mundane, I suppose. Trying to distract myself from the fact that Beau could kill people in a far more horrifying way than simply slitting their throat or fatally poisoning them. At least it was relatively fast. I took a deep breath and opened my car door. He’d threatened me with worse when I first met him. It was a tense drive back to the campground. When we were back on familiar roads I thought to ask Beau why he’d chosen this person, specifically. “He double-parks.” “And?” He glanced at me in mild surprise. “What else do you need?” “Are you kidding me? I just let you murder someone because they double-park?” “Murder?” His tone was sharp. “You let me refill my cup. I drained it to save your land. You ensured my survival.” Whatever it takes. The family tradition. My grandfather killed his share to protect our land. My parent’s hands certainly weren’t clean. And nor are mine. I wish I could say that was the end of it. That I let Beau out once we were back at my house and he wandered off and nothing else happened. But what we’d done was not going to go unnoticed. I stayed up late that night. I was awake because I was playing video games and making yet another attempt at killing that damn direwolf in Octopath Traveler, like seriously, why is that thing so hard to kill? I must be doing something wrong. So after watching my party get their faces ripped off for like the fifth time I finally turned the TV off and went to bed. It was midnight. The little girl was crying softly by the window. I’d barely climbed into bed when she stopped. I froze. That was never a good sign. “Oh no,” the little girl whispered. “No no no no.” I acted on instinct. I threw myself out of bed and took cover behind it. The little girl screamed in fright and then my window shattered. The house shook with the impact. For a moment everything was still, save for the tinkling of some glass remnants striking the ground and the wild sobbing of the little girl. Then… “Campground manager!” the fomorian bellowed. My blood ran cold. I felt frozen in place, cowering there next to the bed. The fomorian’s voice came at a distance. It wasn’t over the house’s property line, at least. “I will find the one that killed my thorns at your behest!” it continued. “I will drag him here and I will tear him apart, little by little, and eat him alive. You will be helpless to watch and know what fate awaits you.” Then I heard the cry of a horse and the sound of hoofbeats, receding into the distance. A warning. This was only a warning. The fomorian intended to kill Beau. Tentatively, I stood and turned on the bedside light. There was a body wedged through the broken window. It couldn’t fit through the frame, but it’d shattered the glass and now its head and part of its upper body was stuck. The hood of its garment mercifully covered its face, for I recognized it by its bulk. One of the musicians. The fomorian had killed one of the dancer’s musicians. And, my heart sinking, I knew that it had to be the one that had rescued me from the dapple-gray stallion’s hooves. I kill everything I love. Everything that gets close to me. I’m a campground manager. I am also my mother’s daughter and the product of generations that believed life was expendable and we were but prey to these inhuman things. Herd animals, and sometimes one of our own had to be sacrificed to save the rest. I’m certain that the new sheriff will find out about the body. She might not assume it was me, but I’ll be involved regardless. My family always is, when an odd death occurs. She’ll send the old sheriff because he’s better at dealing with me. And then what? Do I lie to him? I could. I think he’d believe me. I’ve gotten quite good at lying over the years doing this job. It’s odd, how the thought of lying to him bothers me more than murdering that man did. I suppose that’s a consequence of sentimentality. Sometimes I think I feel too little and sometimes I wish I didn’t feel so much. I’m starting to think… that maybe I’m a little more messed up inside than I thought. Do I love Beau? I… would be sad if he were gone. Even after seeing what he did to that man. The need to refill his cup was real, but the criteria with which he chose his victim was… petty. That, I think, is cruelty. Beau is cruel. I can not defend him. Yet humans are stupid, emotional things and we form attachments without even realizing it until one day we realize how painful their absence will be. We bond with animals, with plants, and with people that don’t even exist - a character in a video game or a book. I suppose I love Beau in the same way I love the barn cat with the kinked tail or the plant that my uncle gave me or Therion in Octopath Traveler. I don’t want him to die. [x] Read the full list of rules. Visit the campground's website.
I intend to write a far more detailed guide to match betting without using an odds matching tool like P.A. over the next couple of weeks, this guide will be better suited to those who have zero knowledge of match betting
What is Match Betting?
Match betting is a LEGAL, RISK FREE & TAX FREE way of earning Money. You earn by taking advantage of the various sign up and "reload" offers that bookies provide new and existing customers. For example, when you sign up to William Hill they have an offer of "Deposit £10, get a £20 free bet" You can use this bet and then lay against it at a betting exchange For example: Bookie: Bet Chelsea to WIN Exchange: Bet Chelsea to NOT WIN (It should be noted than when you make a lay at a betting exchange you're covering all other options, so by saying you think Chelsea will NOT win you're saying they will either lose or draw, anything except win) So now that you've placed them, these two bets will cancel each other out, resulting in you breaking even (or losing a little bit of cash) after this initial bet you will be credited with your free bet. Now, repeat this process again - except this time it's not your own money being used to place the bet! So you get to keep the profits.
How to get started
The best way (I believe) to get started is to sign up for the free trial on Profit Accumulator | Non and follow their step by step instructions. Using their site you can claim two of the offers and earn £45. During the trial you will have the basics of match betting explained to you and once you have earned from your free trial you can use the profit to upgrade to a Platinum account(£22.99/month or £150/year). If you become a platinum member you will have access to hundreds of offers and dozens of extra guides to help you on your journey. When I started doing this a few years back I only used £50 (That I earned doing surveys) as my starting float, however a bigger pot of £100 is advised to help you work through offers quicker. If you're going to get started with match betting, I recommend you take a photo of the following: Passport or Driving License, bank card used to deposit money, and a recent utility bill - As the bookies fraud prevention teams occasionally ask for these (I've only had it happen once, but it does happen)
Review of the best Match Betting Sites
Profit Accumulator | Non Profit Accumulator is the oldest and largest match betting community out there, with over 20,000 members on its private forum. Their guides are very simple to follow, with text guides, video guides and a list of offers for first time match betters to sign up to. The Profit Accumulator team are also the only match betting site which has a dedicated customer support line. Profit Accumulator have also developed a lot of tools over the past year or so, including Oddsmatching, which find you the right games to maximise your profit, the match catcher which is used betting on the horses, The Acca catcher which is for people who’ve been doing this for years and now use accumulators to make most of their profit, a profit tracker. More recently they’ve created the Early Pay out calculator the Offers Calendar and the Match Betting Diary Cost:FREE TRIAL! which will earn you £45 and then £17.99 after that
Odds Monkey | Non OddsMonkey used to be my favourite sites until Profit Accumulator pulled slightly ahead of them. They’re very user friendly & focus more on newbies to the game. They’re the original creator of the oddsmatcher, which finds the perfect bets for you to make maximum profit. Once again they offer written & video tutorials for people of all abilities and experience. As well as a huge community to offer you support. Odds Monkey is the only site where you can get 1 on 1 training by one of their seasoned professionals, simply pick your time slow and you can talk to someone who’s been match betting for years. OddsMonkey probably offer more tools than any other sites, including: OddsMatcher, Racing Matcher, Each way matcher, Acca matcher, Acca finder, dutch search, tennis matcher and more.
Heads&Heads | Non Head&Heads is relative new comer to the game, founded in 2016 it is run by one man, however that one man is some type of match betting machine sent from the future to help us get back at the bookies, it seems to update with reloads and new offers quicker than the two sites above who have large teams. Their dashboard is clean, cut and simple making it very clear how much you’ve earned and where. They also have the oddchecker, a tracking table of every bet you’ve made, which is directly linked to their bet form. In my opinion heads&heads is the best site for more experienced match betting users. Cost:FREE TRIAL! which will earn you £45 and then £17.99 after that HeadandHeads has kindly provided the following code BMUK01 which will give you 30 days of premium membership for £1
Being gubbed & mug bets
Mug bets - Ok, so match betting is completely legal, however, Most bookies aren't too keen on you only using them for offers. So it's highly recommended to place occasional "mug bets" - What's a mug bet? It's basically a normal (small) bet which is nothing to do with your match betting. A mug bet is simply a small bet to make you look like a regular customer, once again Profit Accumulator | Non has got you covered on the best ways to place mug bets. They advise following a cycle: Qualifying bet, free bet, mug bet, withdraw profits. Being gubbed - This is when a bookie has figured out that you're only match betting and using their offers, the bookie can limit your account to only making small bets, or not getting any offers. You can get back in good stead with them by placing non-offer bets but this could take time and still never amount to anything.
Slot Offers
These offers aren't required to make a healthy profit, but they can be a good earner for you. Slot offers come in many different flavours, and you have to take each one for its merits, some are simply a few free spins and sometimes you have large wagers involved for your free spins. People are often put off by slots because a lot of the time they’re not completely risk-free. It is up to you to weigh up the value of doing them as you have the chance to win big from doing these, you have the potential to make upwards of £100 from a single offer, but like I said... not for everyone. Profit Accumulator | Non will advise you about the risk factor for each slot offer. It will either be no risk (so for examples and offers where the bookies will give you your money back – wager £5 and be credited £5 if you lose it all) or a low risk offer (which is what most slot offers are) where you have to wager a larger amount but the potential earnings are a lot higher. They will also tell you which slots you are best using, unless the offer is for a selected slot only
Jargon Buster
When you start your Match betting journey you'll notice lots of terms thrown around, if you're unsure of them ask me and I’ll try to explain. Here are some of the common terms: Lay Bet: This is the bet you lay in the exchange against your bookie bet. This bet covers you for all options that are not what the bet is backing – e.g. Bet is to WIN; the lay bet will cover LOSS and DRAW. Qualifying Bet: This is when you place a bet to qualify for an offer, for example if the offer was "bet £10 get a £20 free bet" then £10 is your qualifying bet. Mug Bet: This is a small bet placed to convince the bookie you're a regular punter Gubbed: When a bookie bans or limits your account, this usually happens due to a lack of mug bets.
Frequently Asked Questions
Q: Is Matched Betting a scam? A: NO! Everything is tried & tested, supported by various forums all over the internet and has been features on the BBC, The Guardian and various other news outlets... it's legit!
Q: Is Matched Betting Gambling A: NO! With Gambling you have a risk, Match betting has no risks because you cover every outcome - the only risk is human error.
Q: Is Matched Betting really risk free? A: Yes and No, If you just follow the instructions for the offers then you will face no risk. However if you decide to use slot offers then there is a slight risk associated with it, but that's your choice you aren't required to do the slot offers.
Q: How is Matched Betting tax-free? A: As it's considered gambling you don't pay any tax on your winnings.
Q: Will Matched Betting affect my credit rating? A: NO! But bookies will leave an imprint on your credit file. This is just an identity check to make sure that you are genuine.
Q: Do I need a separate bank account for Matched Betting? A: NO, But it is recommended, simply because seeing lots of deposits and withdrawals to casinos can look unappealing on your bank account. Most mortgage companies want to see 3 months worth of bank statements - but if you have 10 bookmakers on them every week it might look like you have a problem. TLDR: Use the free trial from Profit Accumulator | Non to make your first £45 from the bookies (Risk Free).
SHOOTING SCRIPT DATED 27/06/16 BBC SCOTLAND STILL GAME EPISODE 1 - "GADGETS" Written by FORD KIERNAN AND GREG HEMPHILL THE SENDING OF THIS SCRIPT DOES NOT CONSTITUTE AN OFFER THIS SCRIPT REMAINS CONFIDENTIAL AND THE PROPERTY OF THE BBC 1 INT JACK’S FLAT. LIVING ROOM. MORNING 1 (0930) 1 (JACK, VICTOR) Jack is putting down a couple of rolls and sausage. Jack looks at his watch. There is a knock at the door. JACK: Clock work. Victor enters. VICTOR: Top of the morning, Jack boy. Wee bit nippy out there. JACK: Morning Victor. Victor observes the spread. Rolls, Teas, Penguins. He sits and opens the paper. Jack looks at Victor expectantly. JACK: (CONT’D) Eh...What’s happenin’? Victor munches on his roll and sausage. VICTOR: Gies a chance, Jack, I’ve no read it yet. JACK: No, the other paper. Ma paper to read. VICTOR: I just got the one. JACK: No, that’s no how it works. One of us does the rolls, the teas and the Penguins and the other one jumps down and gets the two papers. We read them then we swap. VICTOR: Ach aye. I just got the one. The headlines were the same. Plus the price is went up. So one’ll dae us. I’ll read this, then gie it to you. CONTINUED: Victor begins to read the paper. VICTOR: (CONT’D) Jeez-o. That’s a surprise. Ooft. Didnae see that comin’. “More on pages 6 and 7. He’s no deid, is he? Jeez that’s young! JACK: So let me get this right. You sit there and get all the news first hand I’ve to sit here with nae news. In the dark. Like a daftie. Out the loop. A caveman. A cromagnon! VICTOR: Put the telly on! Aah, of course, they didnae have tv back in Cromagnon times. Make a fire or whatever it is you people dae. Jack sighs. Victor gives in. VICTOR: (CONT’D) Are ye wanting the paper? JACK: Naw. Just Gimme that wee magazine that they always stick in the middle. Victor pulls out the “Futuroo” catalogue. VICTOR: (Affecting Caveman voice) MAGAZINE. GIFT. LOOK PICTURES. JACK: I will fashion a spear and stick it up your arse. (Same caveman voice) EYES MAKE WATER. Victor throws it to Jack. JACK: (CONT’D) I love these. Full of clever, handy stuff ye cannae get in the shops. There’s yer key ring calculator. VICTOR: What de ye need that for? (CONTINUED) CONTINUED: JACK: That would dae a janitor. “How many daft keys have I got here? Oh haud on I’ve got a wee calculator here.” (Reading) Thermal cup. “Keep yer cuppa piping hot!” VICTOR: I don’t see the benefit of that. JACK: Well, Ye make a cup of tea, you go for a biscuit, slip, faw, snap yer leg, up the hospital, 4 hours on a gurney, ignored! Up the road a again, greeting wi’ the pain, gasping for a cup of tea, Oh hello! Roasting hot cup of tea just the way you left it! Perfect! VICTOR: That is a handy thing. Bad fracture. Nice cup of tea. JACK: Look at this! It’s a big magnifying glass ye clip onto the newspaper, turns awe the print big. VICTOR: That would be good. If ye had a newspaper tae read. Jack looks up from his catalogue. Victor raises his paper up and returns to reading. JACK: Hmph. (Jack chuckles) Look at this. VICTOR: What is it? JACK: It’s the shite you get as well. The Eggmaster 3000. This is aimed at wankers. What it does is, you stick two eggs in it the night before.. VICTOR: Uh-huh. CONTINUED: JACK: ...and it boils them for you before you wake up! VICTOR: Haha! JACK: And if you order it before the end of the month you get the Toastie soldier companion! VICTOR: (Laughing) Eggmaster 3000!!! Gies a look at it. JACK: You can read it when I’m done wi’ it. JACK: (CONT’D) Eggmaster 3000 What kind of windae licker would part with his money for that? HARD CUT TO: 2 INT. WINSTON’S FLAT. LIVING ROOM/FRONT DOOR DAY 1 (1000) 2 (WINSTON, CHRIS THE POSTIE) Winston is on the phone. He is holding a Futuroo catalogue open. WINSTON: Yes. The Eggmaster 3000 please. Winston licks his thumb and rubs a mark off his window. WINSTON: (CONT’D) And am I still eligible for the Toastie soldier companion? You dancing bear. That’s great, thanking you. Would I like expedited delivery? What does Expedited mean? Quicker. Aye gies that, Hen. Cheerio now. Winston’s doorbell goes. WINSTON: (CONT’D) What a service! He goes to the front door and opens it. Chris the Postie stands before him. CHRIS: Registered letter. Winston signs the electric box. Chris looks at it disparagingly. CHRIS: (CONT’D) Is that yer signature, aye? WINSTON: Yes. Exactly the same as it always is. (Points to his signature) Yingimnyingyem. Winston slams the door in his face and opens his letter. He returns to his living room and lays it out on the table. 2 CONTINUED: 2 WINSTON: (CONT’D) Oh dear. Well that’s a surprise. Better run round the place with the hoover. 3 INT NAVID’S DAY 1 (1030) 3 (NAVID, ISA, WINSTON) Isa dusting cans. Navid emerges from the beads. He watches Isa from behind. Her bum is wiggling away while she is dusting. NAVID: You know, Isa, I never give you anything. Beat. Isa turns and looks at Navid. A hint of romance on her face. ISA: How de ye mean? Navid pulls a mop from behind the counter. ISA: (CONT’D) A mop? NAVID: No just any mop, Isa. He turns the mop to reveal the legend emblazoned on it: NAVID: (CONT’D) Got you something out the Futuroo catalogue. The Floor Hear-o! ISA: Ooh, Navid, I’m no needing that, I like ma string mop. Navid lifts the mop. It has three measly strings left. NAVID: C’mon. That mop looks like it’s had chemo. And anyway. The Floor Hear-o has Bluetooth. ISA: Bluetooth? It’s normally Detol I use. Navid pulls out headphones. 3 CONTINUED: 3 NAVID: Dear oh dear. (Patronizing) Bluetooth gives you wireless music, Isa. ISA: Wireless? NAVID: Nae Wires. Wire free! Do you no know nothing? ISA: But if I want music, Navid, there’s a perfectly good transistor there! NAVID: That’s for me to listen to my quality music. This is for you to listen to your shite. It makes your mopping a whole lot simpler cause the music makes the chore pass much quicker. Winston enters and begins shopping. Navid puts the headphones on Isa. Her face lights up. Isa sidles off, mopping and shaking her behind to the music. ISA: It’s got a lovely fast action! HELLO WINSTON! NAVID GOT ME THESE! AS A PRESENT! Winston recoils in fright. He heads to the counter. Navid smiles at Winston and leans in. NAVID: It’s actually a present for all of us. WINSTON: Eh? Winston’s face lights up. He turns to Isa. WINSTON: (CONT’D) Aah, earmuffs for a nosy cow! Isa just smiles. (CONTINUED) 3 CONTINUED: 3 WINSTON: (CONT’D) JACK AND VICTOR HAVE WENT AFF THEIR HEIDS AND THEY’VE JUMPED OFF THE HIGH FLATS. Isa smiles, not hearing a thing. WINSTON/NAVID: He he he. Navid and Winston share a knowing laugh. Navid has played a blinder. ISA: When’s your house guest coming? WINSTON: What? Isa ghosts over. She takes her headphones off. She cooly scans Winston’s basket. ISA: Well, big tin of soup instead of small tin, Full loaf, when you normally take a wee one, a dozen eggs, not six. And the quilted toilet roll. You usually buy the cheap stuff that yer fingers go through... You’ve got a house guest visiting. I’m asking when? NAVID: Scary. Winston is raging. WINSTON: See you, Isa? You should grow a moustache, well, a thicker moustache. Get it waxed up at the ends and get a job mopping on the Orient Express ya nosy bastard ye! Winston heads to the door, beaten again. Isa goes back to her mopping. Winston exits. ISA: Right, that’s me away! NAVID: Okey dokey. 3 CONTINUED: 3 Navid quickly inspects the floor. NAVID: (CONT’D) Haud on! You’ve missed a big bit there! ISA: Aye. I tried moppin there but the music wouldnae go on my Wi-Fi. It’s a cold spot they call that. Cheeryby! 4 INT CLANSMAN DAY 1 (1115) 4 (TAM, BOABBY, ERIC, JACK, VICTOR, WALTER, WINSTON) Tam is thumbing through the Futuroo catalogue. TAM: Spider Catcher. 19.99? Not a chance. Batter it with a slipper. 20 quid saved. What’s this noo? An Ionic Shoe Freshener. 49.99! Bollocks. Shoes aff, stinking. Lidl’s “Ssst. Ssst.” Thruppence worth of a squirt, Cotton fresh. Boabby takes Tam’s magazine. He looks at it with disgust. BOABBY: Aimed at pensioners! “That’ll make my meaningless life easier. This might keep me out the grave for another 15 minutes!” Look at this. An Electric Bunnet. “Outsmart Jack Frost this winter with the Hot Cap. Shite. ERIC: No shite, Boabby. It’s Toasty. It came the day. Magic. Eric takes his hat off and demonstrates. ERIC: (CONT’D) Yer wee PP3 battery goes in there. Awe the lining in there is like a mini electric blanket. Eric switches it on. Everybody stares at him. ERIC: (CONT’D) Wait! There ye go. It’s kickin in noo! BOABBY: Very good. You wanting a pint or what? ERIC: Aye. I’ll a take a pint of cider. Lots of ice!, Boabby. Eric takes his jacket off. ERIC: (CONT’D) I’m roasting! I’m sweatin’ like Pavarotti’s pallbearers. Jack and Victor enter. BOABBY: Look who it is! Chas and Dave! JACK: That’s right and you put the Cock in Cockney. Two pints, prick! A man comes in at the back of them. He looks similar to Winston in shape, face and same coloured clothes. VICTOR: And get a pint for Winston. BOABBY: That’s no Winston. Jack and Victor turn round. BOTH: Walter! WALTER: Hey, long time to see! TAM: Must be what, WALTER: Lemme think noo...15 year! JACK: Have you seen Winston yet? WALTER: No. Thought I’d jump in for a quick pint first before I go over to see WINSTON! Winston walks in. WINSTON: What are you like? In here entertaining the troops before you visit yer brother! (CONTINUED) CONTINUED: Winston limps over. WALTER: A drink for ma brother! In fact get one fur everybody! WALTER: (CONT’D) What happened to your leg? WINSTON: Lost it. Fags. WALTER: Oh dear. Winston grabs Walter’s right hand. WINSTON: Anyway, how ye doin’? Winston shakes his arm. It extends by about a foot and a half. Something is badly wrong. WINSTON: (CONT’D) What happened to your arm? WALTER: Lost it. Rigs. Winston looks round. Everyone is stifling a laugh. WALTER: (CONT’D) Got a big payday oot it! WINSTON: That’s good. So where have you been? WALTER: Where have I no been? I was on the Heimdal gas field. Transferred and got moved to Oselvar. Oil. That awe travels via the Northpipe tae- The boys are enthralled. Walter hears snoring. We cut to see Eric is asleep. WALTER: (CONT’D) Stop me if I’m boring ye! TAM: No, no, you’re no boring him it’s the battery bunnet. Tam taps Eric on the head. TAM: (CONT’D) Eric, wake up ya auld tit! Tam lifts the hat off Eric’s head. He reacts to the hat being scorching! Eric’s head is bright red. TAM: (CONT’D) Bloody hell! It’s roasting! Tam juggles the hat like a hot potato. Smoke comes off it. He throws it on the bar counter. It bursts into flames. Everyone reacts! ALL: Haaawwwwww! Eric wakes up. Boabby lifts the soda gun and douses it. It hisses out. The danger is over. ERIC: No ma good bunnet! That cost me an arm and a leg! Everyone reacts to Eric’s faux pas. ALL: Haaaaaaaaw! Winston and Walter laugh. 5 INT JACK AND VICTOR’S LANDING. MORNING 2 (1000) 5 (JACK, VICTOR, ISA, CHRIS THE POSTIE) Jack emerges from his flat. Isa stands before him, at her door. ISA: Morning, Jack. JACK: (Taken aback) Morning, Isa. After a few beats, Victor emerges from his flat. VICTOR: Jack. Isa. JACK: Victor. ISA: Victor. Morning. VICTOR: Morning to you too. A few more dry beats. We cut back and forth between their smiling, waiting expressions. Eventually, the lift pings open. Chris the Postie emerges. He gets a fright at the three of them standing there. CHRIS: What’s this? Have I got off the lift at a zombie movie? Dawn of the Decrepit? JACK: Very funny. You got something for us? CHRIS: I do as it happens. I’ve got something for all of ye. Chris hands out three parcels, one to each. Victor’s is small, Isa’s is medium sized, Jack’s is large. 5 5 All three recognise the Futuroo wrapping paper on each parcel and nod knowingly to one another. ALL: Aaaaahhhh. ISA: All different sizes. A wee innovation fur each of us. Tae make life that wee bit easier. Whose gonnie kick things aff. VICTOR: Allow me. He opens his box and presents a stone. JACK: A stone. VICTOR: At first glance. Observe! Victor takes out his house keys and puts them inside the stone. ISA: What’s the good of that? VICTOR: If I come in one night, after an evening in the Clansman and discover I’ve lost my keys because I’m pished or what have you, then I’ve got a set right here. Disguised as a common or garden pebble. JACK: Which wouldnae look oot a place in the garden but this is a landing. VICTOR: Eh? Oh aye. JACK: A robber would see that and say “Oooh, there’s one of they plastic Futuroo hide yer key pebbles.” That’ll save me kicking the door in. (CONTINUED) 5 CONTINUED: 5 Victor puts it down by his front door. VICTOR: Shut up. It looks good there. Like a rockery. JACK: Like yer starting a rockery. A one rock rockery. A shitey rockery. ISA: Ye should get doon the garden centre and get mair rocks roon aboot it. Isa opens her parcel. It is a wee brown plastic dog. She switches it on and puts it down on the door mat. She flashes a wee handset device. She goes into her house and shuts the door. ISA: (CONT’D) Watch. Jack and Victor look at each other. ISA: (OOV) (CONT’D) CHAP MA DOOR! Jack and Victor knock. The dog speaks, we hear Isa’s voice: DOG: Who is it, please? JACK: You know who it is. DOG: For the purposes of demonstration please state your name. VICTOR: Victor McDade and Jack Jarvis. JACK: Esquire. ISA: I’m sorry I can’t come to the door right now as I’m making Cock-ALeekie soup. So bugger off. 5 CONTINUED: 5 BOTH: Good/That’s a handy thing, that. DOG: Right. Come in and show me what you got, Jack. Jack. Jack? Victor? Jack and Victor are gone. HARD CUT TO: 6 INT JACK’S FLAT - BATHROOM. DAY 2 (1030) 6 (JACK, VICTOR) Jack and Victor stand in front of a fancy, white electronic “Bath Tidy” which sits across the bath full of gadgets. Radio, reading stand, soap dispenser etc. Two plastic white lights Packed with shite. VICTOR: Woaf. That is the bollocks. The business. The daddy of them all. What the hell is it? JACK: What’s your bath time routine? VICTOR: I don’t take a bath. Routinely. Too much hassle. I dae my ablutions with ma shower head. JACK: Ablutions? VICTOR: Aye, Ye know, Roon the houses. Oxters, arsehole, clacker bag. JACK: Thank you, Victor. I’ve now got that in Panavision. But I know what you’re saying. I’m the same. I just use the shower. To men of oor age, a bath is a pain in the arse. But with the Techno Tub. No-sir-ee. Soap dispenser, dish there, thermometer there, beer holder, book stand, lights and the piece to resistance, Jack switches on a dial. We hear an old tune. JACK: (CONT’D) Bath time’s a pleasure. And I’ll be having one tonight. VICTOR: Nice. Much was it? 6 CONTINUED: 6 JACK: 34.99. VICTOR: Aye. That’s better than a dummy stone right enough. Once ye’ve used that tonight, I’ll take a shot of it and have a good steep masel.. JACK: Naw. The Techno Tub’s a personal thing. That’s like taking a lain of a man’s sponge. Away and fondle yer stone. Victor leaves. 7 EXT STREET DAY 2 (1400) 7 (TAM, ERIC, WALTER, WINSTON, JACK) Tam and Eric stand with Walter and Winston. Walter is finishing a funny story. WALTER: (Jerks a thumb to Winston) Two of us are steaming and he turns roon and says “Naw, you haud it’s heid! I’ll put the wellies on it!” Tam and Eric lose it. They are all laughing. Jack approaches. He carries Soap and a new sponge. JACK: What huv I missed, what’s awe the laughing aboot? ERIC: Ma ribs are sore. TAM: It’s Walter here, you could be a stand-up comedian, son! Or youse could be a double act. But you’d huv to go the straight man, Winston. Everyone laughs. ERIC: Or the clown that comes oot before the main event! JACK: Aye cause he’s it and you’re shit! That could be yer double act name! “Ladies and Gentlemen, a big hand,” nae offence, Walter, “for IT AND SHIT!” WINSTON: Thanks, fur that, Jack. JACK: Sorry. 7 CONTINUED: 7 WALTER: Right, where are we gaun, the bookies? Let’s flash some cash! WINSTON: Naw, naw. Stevie the bookie’s a wrong ‘un. WALTER: How? WINSTON: Long story. Everyone smiles and looks at their shoes. WINSTON: (CONT’D) Right. I had an accumulator come up. 35 grand. Stevie does a runner. Then he comes back, Shaves his heid baldy and claims to be his brother. I stay in his toilet awe night and bust him, so he pays me, but I cannae stay oot the place and I start losing it. I’m down to my last few quid then bingo I get it awe back. Stick it in ma leg which flew out the windae and a ned ran away with all ma lolly. (To Jack) Ye remember awe that? JACK: Vaguely. WINSTON: How about the Greyhounds? Where’s Victor? JACK: Up the garden centre buying bloody pebbles. WINSTON: What fur? JACK: He’s a crackpot. WINSTON: You want tae come wi’ us? Jack waves his new sponge and bar of soap. (CONTINUED) 7 CONTINUED: 7 JACK: Naw. I’m going up the road tae have a bath. I’ve no had a bath for two year! Everybody steps back from Jack. JACK: (CONT’D) I’ve had showers and that. Naw, youse enjoy yourselves. 8 INT JACK’S FLAT - BATHROOM. NIGHT 2 (1800) 8 (JACK) Jack has got his big tartan robe on. He is watching his bath fill up. He presses on the lights then turns the overhead light off to see the water sparkling. He turns on the radio and hums along with the tune. JACK: Ooh, look at you, filling up lovely. Jack decants a tin of beer into a pint tumbler and places it in the glass holder on the bath tidy. He checks the temp on the bath tidy. JACK: (CONT’D) Temperature’s just tickety-boo. Book stand. Jack pulls from his robe a giant grave stone slab of Dairy Milk and puts it on the book stand. JACK: (CONT’D) I’ll be getting intae you, shortly and I don’t know when I’ll be getting out! We see the robe falling to the floor to Jack’s feet and the sound of him entering the bath. 9 INT JACK AND VICTOR’S LANDING. NEXT MORNING 3 (0930) 9 (JACK V/O, VICTOR, ISA) Victor emerges with a pack of Digestives. The floor space outside his door is now covered with pebbles. He steps over them stumbling and trying to get his balance. VICTOR: 16 quid for this pile of shit. He eventually navigates them and arrives and knocks Jack’s door. Nothing. He knocks it again. JACK: (OOV) (Muffled) Victor! Victor cocks his ear. What was that? JACK: (CONT’D) Victor! Victor opens the letter box. VICTOR: Jack? JACK: Help! VICTOR: Huv ye fell!? JACK: Naw I’m stuck in the bath I’ve been in it all night? VICTOR: Oh Jesus! Haud on! Isa’s dog’s eye’s light up. DOG: What’s all the commotion? Victor runs and raps Isa’s door. VICTOR: Isa! Isa! Jack’s stuck in the bath! (CONTINUED) 9 CONTINUED: 9 DOG: Who’s calling? VICTOR: It’s me, Victor. Open the door! DOG: I’m sorry, I cannot receive guests, at the moment for I am in my dressing gown eating toast and reading my Bella magazine. Victor snatches up the dog and begins shouting in its face. VICTOR: LISTEN TO ME YOU HALFWIT! OPEN THIS BLOODY DOOR, JACK’S STUCK IN THE BATH! GET IT OPENED OR I’LL RIP THIS DUG’S LEGS AFF! Isa opens the door. Victor has run back across the landing. VICTOR: (CONT’D) (trying the door.) It’s locked! ISA: Put yer shoulder tae it! VICTOR: Oot the road. Victor takes a feeble run and hits it like snowball hitting a gas fire. He hits it again. Same result. He kicks it feebly. ISA: MOVE! Victor gets out the way. Isa runs full steam at the door. She knocks it clean off its hinges. 10 INT JACK’S FLAT - BATHROOM. DAY 3 (0930) 10 (JACK, VICTOR, ISA) Victor and Isa enter frantically. VICTOR: Jack, ye awright? What’s happened here? JACK: What de ye thinks happened? I’ve thought this bath is that good I’ve decided to live in it! I’m stuck! I cannae get oot! ISA: Jack, yer wullie! Victor grabs a small face cloth. VICTOR: Here, I’ll cover that up! JACK: Wi’ a bigger towel!!! ISA: Who takes a bloody bath first thing in the morning? JACK: I took it last night! VICTOR: And ye’ve took another one this morning? JACK: I’VE BEEN IN HERE SINCE LAST NIGHT! BOTH: Bloody hell/Oh my! JACK: Look at the state of ma skin I’m like Judy Finnegan! VICTOR: And ye cannae lift yersel oot? (CONTINUED) 10 CONTINUED: 10 JACK: I’m awe stuck to the sides, like suction! ISA: Just pull the plug oot! JACK: I cannae, it’s directly under ma ringer I’ve tried that! VICTOR: Don’t panic! JACK: Panic? I’m no panicking! I’m past the panicking bit! I was panicking for about ten hours, but that’s past noo! ISA: Call 911! JACK: What, for American Police? VICTOR: Away ye go, ya hofwit! “Is that CSI Miami, ma pals stuck in the bath. Where? Glesga!” Idiot. It’s 999! JACK: Haud on, Victor, you cannae dae that! VICTOR: How? JACK: That’s for emergencies, I’m no dyin! I’m just wanting out the bath. There’s a number ye phone when yer having trouble wi’ a bath? ISA: BnQ. VICTOR! Naw! I know what it is, it’s 101. 10 10 JACK: That’s crime! I’ve no been robbed. The only thing that’s getting robbed is ma bastardin’ dignity! ISA: Aaaaagh! I know what it is! VICTOR: What? ISA: This happened to Big Janice Mcafferty her wi’ the eating disorder you know who I’m talking aboot she’s barred from Gregg’s fur grazing she got stuck and her man called.... Everyone waits. VICTOR: Her man called.... JACK: Man called..... ISA: Kenny. JACK: THE NUMBER HE CALLED YA DAFT COW! ISA: NHS Ambulance services department. Isa runs out the bathroom ISA: (CONT’D) THAT’S WHO YOU CALL! 11 INT NAVID’S. LATE MORNING 3 (1100) 11 (NAVID, WINSTON, WALTER, MEENA) Winston and Walter arrive in the shop. They sidle up to the counter. WINSTON: Navid. Meet my brother. Walter. NAVID: Walter. Nice to see you. What can I do you for? WALTER: Cigars? What huv ye got? Navid turns round and selects a single panatella. NAVID: Cigars! I have classy ones for the man about town and not so classy ones for the man about scheme. WALTER: Classy. Always classy. NAVID: Claaassy. I used to be a half Corona man myself. That was when we lived in Gujarat. WALTER: I know Gujarat. NAVID: You know Gujarat? WALTER: Oh aye. I worked in LaHore for long enough. The guy I worked wi’ was from Gujurat. Aftab Jarwar. He was a good laugh. Tiny wee fella. He was only about 4 foot six. Walter switches into Punjabi WALTER: (CONT’D) (Translation:) But he had a cock like an elephant. 11 11 Navid and Walter piss themselves laughing. NAVID: (In Punjabi) A cock like an elephant! That’s a cracker. Meena shouts from behind the beads. MEENA: Aftab Jarwar? I think I might have met him! Navid, Walter and Meena are howling with laughter. Winston is trying to join in the laughter. It fades. Navid sticks the cigar in Walter’s shirt pocket. NAVID: Here. Take that. That’s a better laugh than he’s ever gied me! Winston laughs again weakly. There is an awkwardly silence. NAVID: (CONT’D) Have YOU ever been anywhere good, Winston? WINSTON: Eh. Aye. RawalPindi. NAVID: Oh! In the Punjab region? WINSTON: No, in the Sauchiehall Street region. Next to the dry cleaners. Nice Pakora. Winston smiles expecting a laugh. He gets nothing. Tough shop. 12 INT JACK’S FLAT - BATHROOM DAY 3 (1130) 12 (JACK, VICTOR, BIG JOHN, ISA) Jack is asleep. Eventually, he stirs. When he wakes, he looks confused. How was he sleeping? He sniffs. Something’s not right. Jack freaks out, splashing water everywhere. We cut wide to see that Victor is taking a shit. JACK: What the hell are ye daein? VICTOR: Sorry Jack I was putting if off for ages, I’ve hud tae park a loaf in yer lavvy! JACK: Ye animal! Who does that? You only live next door! VICTOR: I couldnae leave ye yersel in the bath, ye’ve been asleep! You could huv done a Whitney Houston! JACK: Where are these people that are supposed to be getting me out the bath? VICTOR: That’s nearly two hours since we found ye, they’re surely due noo! JACK: And if they come right noo, they’re gonnie be confused! “Dearie me, This is a dilemma, who do we save first? The poor auld fella stuck in the bath or the silly auld duffer, superglued to the shiter! Finish yer manky business and get aff ma pan! VICTOR: Right look away. 12 12 Jack looks away. Victor does up his trousers. An irate, very large man enters. VICTOR: (CONT’D) Hello! You must be from the services. JACK: Naw! This is big John fae doon stairs! How are you, John? JOHN: What’s gaun on here? VICTOR: He’s stuck in the bath, son. JOHN: Are ye? Well I’ve got water coming doon into ma bathroom. Which I’ve been daein up for the last three months and I’ve just finished. Only to look up and see drip drip drip drip! The man bundles past Victor. JOHN: (CONT’D) Oot the way! The man removes the front panel of the bath. JOHN: (CONT’D) Look at that. Soakin. Rotten. That needs sorted! I told you about that, two year ago! VICTOR: Look, keep the heid. There’s an ambulance on it’s way! JOHN: If I get any mair water doon on me it’ll be a hearse yer needin’! The man stomps out. JACK: Charmin’. VICTOR: Where are these toerags? (CONTINUED) 12 CONTINUED: 12 Isa comes in dressed. ISA: Are they still not here? JACK: Absolutely typical, intit? Leaving an old man stuck in the bath. VICTOR: It’s disgusting. It’s because the pensioner isnae a priority! ISA: Aye, dirty lazy pigs, we’re the bottom of the pile and no mistake! VICTOR: How long did they say they’d be? ISA: Who? VICTOR: The emergency services? ISA: What did they say to me? JACK: When you called them! ISA: I didnae call them! I thought Victor’d called them, I was away getting ready! JACK: You couple of stupid arseholes! Victor and Isa run out the bathroom. JACK: (OOV) (CONT’D) VICTOR! Victor pokes his head back in the toilet. VICTOR: Yes, Jack! JACK: Flush! 12 CONTINUED: 12 VICTOR: Oh aye! Victor flushes the toilet. 13 INT STEVIE THE BOOKIE’S DAY 3 (1145) 13 (WINSTON, WALTER, STEVIE) Walter and Winston are watching a horse race. Stevie the Bookie looks on from his counter. He smiles at Winston, who looks away in disgust. WALTER: C’mon then. C’mon then. Bingo! WINSTON: Beat by a bawhair! Winston scrumples up his bookie slip in the old school style. He accompanies Walter to the counter. Walter heads to the window first, offering his slip. STEVIE: Excuse me, a minute sir, if I could just tend to this customer first. Stevie signals to Winston. WALTER: Oh aye. Of course. Walter steps out the way, leaving Stevie to do a victory gloat dance right in Winston’s face. Winston takes it in silence. It lasts for however long the episode is short. Stevie’s dance comes to an abrupt end. He turns to Walter. Walter looks to Winston quizzically. “What was that about?” WINSTON: Just ignore him, Walter. STEVIE: How can I help you? WALTER: Wee accumulator came up there. STEVIE: (affable) Nice! Lemme see. Now you don’t see that very often. You’ve started with a pound. Ye’ve predicted McPherson in round three last night. Score draw, next, they’re very tricky. (MORE) 13 13 STEVIE: (CONT'D) The winner at Hamilton. And you never took the odds. That was clever. Stevie casts an eye at Winston. STEVIE: (CONT’D) £210. Well done. Stevie grins at Winston. Winston shakes his head. But he’s not annoyed. He smiles to himself at the irony of his arch enemy cosying up to his brother. Walter takes the money with his plastic hand. STEVIE: (CONT’D) Smart accumulator. Clever. That’s took a bit of nouse. I wouldn’t mind buying you a pint and picking yer brains about your process! WALTER: Anytime! WINSTON: Aye, anytime. STEVIE: Naw, I was referring to the winners’ enclosure. Winston and Walter make to leave. STEVIE: (CONT’D) Winston! Winston turns. Stevie reprises his “Victory” dance to annoy him. 14 INT JACK’S FLAT - BATHROOM DAY 3 (1200) 14 (JACK, VICTOR, ISA) Victor enters. Isa is sitting on the loo. VICTOR: You’re no taking a dump an awe are ye? ISA: Indeed I am not ya filthy pig! JACK: What did they say? VICTOR: Yer no gonnie like this. They said it could be up to six hours. JACK: I’ll no last another six hours. This water’s gaun cold. ISA: We can fix that, wi’ a wee top up. Isa turns on the hot water tap but it’s tight. ISA: (CONT’D) It’s no comin’. Victor rolls up his sleeves. VICTOR: Please. He moves past her to the tap. He applies a serious amount of pressure to turn it. It comes away in his hand. Water gushes out the tap. JACK: That’s quite nice. That’s gettin hot. That’s getting too hot, Victor! It’s ROASTING IT’S SCORCHING! SERIOUSLY, SERIOUSLY THAT’S TOO MUCH! You’d be as well throwing totties in here! 14 14 ISA: Ye need the cauld tae coonter it! Isa turns on the cold tap. VICTOR: Right! It’s now or never! Grab my hands Jack! Jack grabs Victor’s hands. VICTOR: (CONT’D) Ye ready? One! Two Three! Victor has no leverage. He topples into the bath on top of Jack. Water pishes everywhere. Isa lifts a bucket. She begins to bail water from the bath to the toilet sink. It’s going everywhere. Victor crawls out. His soaking clothes are dripping everywhere. He slips on the floor. 15 INT CLANSMAN AFTERNOON 3 (1400) 15 (BOABBY, WINSTON, WALTER) Winston and Walter are draining a pint. Boabby stands cleaning tumblers. WALTER: (Awkward) Well, I better be hitting the road. That’s a good gang of pals you’ve got here, Winston. WINSTON: Aye, I’m very lucky. Jack, Victor, Tam, Eric, Isa, Navid. Boabby waits patiently for his mention. WINSTON: (CONT’D) Oh aye. I nearly forgot. Stevie the bookie. Boabby gives up and heads into the stock room. WALTER: Aye the bookie. I liked him. Great guy. WINSTON: Oh aye. Great guy. Salt of the earth. (Under his breath) Which I wish he was under. Beat. WALTER: It’s a shame about poor old Auntie Lily, dying, intit? WINSTON: And there it is. WALTER: There what is? WINSTON: The reason for your visit, Walter. Yer bus is in an hour, but there was one wee last bit of business you had to take care of. The bite. 15 15 WALTER: I don’t know what yer talking aboot! Winston pulls out a letter. The one he received at the beginning of the episode. WINSTON: This is the letter telling me Lily had passed. As soon as it arrived, I knew you wouldn’t be long at the back of it. Cause that’s how you operate. Four times I’ve seen you in the last forty years. Each time to borrow money. From me. Money you never paid back. You never even showed at oor Ma’s or our Dad’s funerals. That’s because they had nothing. Walter nods, knowing. He’s been busted. WALTER: So was there any... WINSTON: Money? Yes. Lily left four thousand. WALTER: So that’s two thousand each? WINSTON: No. Winston takes out an envelope. He pushes it across the table. WINSTON: (CONT’D) Take the lot. Walter leaves. 16 INT JACK’S FLAT - BATHROOM DAY 3 (1430) 16 (JACK, VICTOR, ISA, BIG JOHN) Big John from down the stairs stomps in. JOHN: I warned you! My ceiling is soaking noo! How can you still be stuck? ISA: I know, it’s a helluva carry on right enough they’re sayin’ on the phone it could be up tae six- JOHN: Shut up! I’m no wanting yer life story ya daft auld trout! Huv ye any Fairy Liquid? JACK: Aye! Under ma sink in the kitchen! John runs out. ISA: What’s he gonnie dae wi’ Fairy Liquid, Jack? JACK: Maybe he just wants to get his temper doon, dae a few dishes. ISA: I, it’s like therapy, that, intit? Anger management. John comes back in JOHN: Oot the road! John squirts fairy liquid all down Jack’s back and yanks him out the bath like a bear. Victor puts the robe on him. JACK: Listen son. I’m really sorry I let water doon on yer new bathroom. (MORE) 16 16 JACK: (CONT'D) But I was stuck in that bath aboot sixteen hours! JOHN: What ye doin taking a bath at your age? Victor drags the Techno tub bath tidy out the bath. VICTOR: He normally takes a shower but he bought this! JOHN: What is it? JACK: Techno tub! It’s does everything. Radio, lights, temperature. VICTOR: It’s a great thing. JOHN: What do you do with it? Victor sits it on the bath. VICTOR: It just sits there. Voila. The bath disappears under its own weight through the floor. VICTOR: (CONT’D) Techno Tub. JACK: Bath tidy. Isa stares down the hole. ISA: Yer bathroom really is lovely. Was that a new shower cubicle? Post Sig 17 INT CLANSMAN NIGHT 3 (2215) 17 (JACK, VICTOR, WINSTON, TAM, BOABBY, ISA, ERIC) Everybody is gathered. They are all quite bevvied. JACK: It’s no just what Walter says, it’s the way he says it. It’s a gift, that. TAM: You just have to look at him and he creases ye up. VICTOR: That must be a bit weird for you Winston. WINSTON: How so? VICTOR: Just, having the older brother who’s the life and soul and eh... WINSTON: Funnier than me? ALL: Noo! Didnae say that. Deserving of a watch etc WINSTON: Ye cannae be jealous of family. Anyway, he’s away noo so you’ll just have to put up with the support act. Everyone chuckles. Boabby picks up a notepad awkwardly. BOABBY: Away? Em, Winston, so over the last couple of days? Walter’s ran up a tab here. 40 quid. Winston blanches, before going into his pocket without missing a beat. 17 17 WINSTON: Calm doon. He telt me aboot that. He gave me this to square ye up. Did ye think he’d done a runner? BOABBY: No! That’s great. Right. Sorry. Winston hands Boabby 40 quid. JACK: To Walter. ALL: To Walter. WINSTON: Aye, to Walter. We see the wistful look on Winston’s face. Once again he bails out his brother. Hard cut: 18 INT. JACK AND VICTOR’S LANDING. NIGHT 3 (2230) 18 (JACK, VICTOR, ISA? VOICE FROM DOG) Jack leans against Victor’s front door. He is in full gloat. JACK: Still nae joy? Victor is on his knees looking through his “rockery”, chucking stones over his shoulder. VICTOR: Which one was it?! Isa’s electronic door dog’s eyes glow white as it comes to life DOG: Want me to make up the couch? Jack and Victor stare at the dog. They begin to throw rocks at it. END OF EPISODE
"Sasquatch", "Wildmen", "Matlox", "Yeti" "Almas"; call them what you will; there are credible historical and contemporary reports and evidence, from around the world, that show mysterious Humanoid/Ape-like Mammals exist in the wilderness of the Earth's continents.
What follows is a massively abridged (by me) version of Chapter 10 of "Forbidden Archeology" by Michael Cremo and Richard L. Thompson. Reading it recently I found it enthralling, but I wished some of the things described were better illustrated (if at all!). So I spent some time searching online for the appropriate images. I then abridged and formatted the chapter for posting to Reddit, and inserted the pictures that I found into the text. I've included, at an appropriate part of the text, a link to more recent info relating to DNA discoveries ... Living Ape-Men? There are signs that humans may have coexisted with more apelike hominids throughout the Pleistocene. We suggest that humans and ape-man-like creatures continue to coexist. Over the past hundred or so years, researchers have accumulated substantial evidence that creatures resembling Neanderthals, Homo erectus, and the Australopithecines even now roam wilderness areas of the world. Hard Evidence Is Hard To Find In 1775, Carl Linnaeus, the founder of the modern system of biological classification, listed three existing human species: Homo sapiens, Homo troglodytes (cave man), and Homo ferus (wild man). Although Linnaeus knew the latter two species only from travellers’ reports and secondary sources, he included them in his Systema Naturae. Professional scientists have (1) observed wild-men in natural surroundings, (2) observed live captured specimens, (3) observed dead specimens, and (4) collected physical evidence for wild-men, including hundreds of footprints. They have also interviewed non-scientist informants and investigated the vast amount of wildman lore contained in ancient literatures and traditions. Many will say that all the wildman evidence mentioned above exists simply in reports, and that reports alone, even those given by scientists, are not sufficient to establish the existence of wild-men. However, in palaeoanthropology, as in many areas of science, evidence exists primarily in the form of reports. During World War II almost the whole collection of Homo Erectus fossils was lost during the Japanese occupation of China. The Homo Erectus fossils now exist only in the form of old written reports, photographs, and casts. And no one doubts that the originals did in fact exist. But what about reports by scientists who claim they saw and examined dead specimens of wildmen, the corpses of which were not preserved? Most scientists will grant no credibility at all to such reports. In one case the reports are believed, and in the other they are not. Why? We propose that reports about evidence conforming to the standard view of human evolution generally receive greater credibility than reports about nonconforming evidence. Thus deeply held beliefs, rather than purely objective standards, may become the determining factor in the acceptance and rejection of reports about controversial evidence. Cryptozoology ...refers to the scientific investigation of species whose existence has been reported but not fully documented. Is it really possible that there could be an unknown species of hominid on this planet? There remain vast unpopulated and little-travelled areas. In particular, the North-Western United States still has large regions of densely forested, mountainous terrain which, although mapped from the air, are rarely penetrated by humans on the ground. A surprising number of new species of animals are still being found each year—about 5,000 according to a conservative estimate. As might be suspected, the great majority of these, some 4,000, are insects. Yet, The largest of the bears, the Kodiak bear, was unknown to science until 1899. The largest rhinoceros, Cotton’s white rhino, was discovered in 1900. The mountain gorilla, the largest member of the ape family, turned up in 1901. The largest lizard, the Komodo dragon, was first captured in 1912. In 1975, the largest known peccary, or wild hog, Catagonus wagneri, was discovered in Paraguay. This animal was previously known only by Pleistocene fossils. In 1976, a large and entirely new species of shark, 4.5 meters (almost 15 feet) long and weighing over 700 kilograms (over 1,500 pounds), was caught by a U.S. Navy ship in the ocean waters off Hawaii. European Wild-men Many art objects of the Greeks, Romans, Carthaginians, and Etruscans bear images of semi-human creatures resembling wild-men. During the Middle Ages, wild-men continued to be depicted in European art and architecture. A page from Queen Mary’s Psalter, composed in the fourteenth century, shows a very realistically depicted hairy wildman being attacked by a pack of dogs. Wild-men were thought to live in caves and forests. They subsisted on berries and roots. They were not considered ordinary humans. They were said to be members of the animal kingdom. Northwestern North America In 1792, the Spanish botanist-naturalist José Mariano Moziño, in describing the Indians of Nootka Sound on Vancouver Island, Canada, stated:
“I do not know what to say about Matlox, inhabitant of the mountainous district, of whom all have an unbelievable terror. They imagine his body as very monstrous, all covered with stiff black bristles; a head similar to a human one, but with much greater, sharper and stronger fangs than those of the bear; extremely long arms; and toes and fingers armed with long curved claws. His shouts alone (they say) force those who hear them to the ground, and any unfortunate body he slaps is broken into a thousand pieces.”
Of the Spokane Indians of the Pacific Northwest, Elkanah Walker, a missionary who lived among them for 9 years, wrote in 1840:
“They believe in the existence of a race of giants which inhabit a certain mountain, off to the west of us. They inhabit its top. They hunt and do all their work in the night. They are men stealers. They come to people’s lodges in the night, when the people are asleep and take them and put them under their skins and take them to their place of abode without their even awakening. They say their track is about a foot and a half long. They frequently come in the night and steal their salmon from their nets and eat them raw. If the people are awake they always know when they are coming very near by the smell which is most intolerable”
Indians from the Columbia River region of the northwestern United States produced rock carvings that resembled the heads of apes. Anthropologist Grover Krantz showed photographs of the heads to a number of scientists and noted:
“Zoologists who did not know their source unanimously declared them to be representative of nonhuman, higher primates; those who knew the source insisted they must be something else!” Preconceptions seem to determine what scientists are prepared to see, and one thing most scientists are definitely not prepared to see is apelike creatures in the American Northwest.
On July 4, 1884, the Colonist, a newspaper published in Victoria, British Columbia, carried a story titled: “What is it? A strange creature captured above Yale. A British Columbian Gorilla.” Ned Austin, a railway engineer, spotted a human-like creature ahead of him on the tracks, blew the whistle, and stopped. The creature darted up the side of a hill, with several railway employees in pursuit. After capturing the animal, described as “half man and half beast”, the railway employees turned him over to Mr. George Tilbury. The Colonist reported: “‘Jacko,’ as the creature has been called by his capturers, is something of the gorilla type, standing about four feet seven inches in height and weighing 127 pounds. He has long, black, strong hair and resembles a human being with one exception, his entire body, excepting his hands (or paws) and feet is covered with glossy hair about one inch long. His forearm is much longer than a man’s forearm, and he possesses extraordinary strength” Myra Shackley noted:
“The newspaper account of Jacko was subsequently confirmed by an old man, August Castle, who was a child in the town at the time. The fate of the captive is not known, although some said that he (accompanied by Mr. Tilbury) was shipped east by rail in a cage on the way to be exhibited in a sideshow, but died in transit”
Furthermore, there were additional reports of creatures like Jacko from the same region. Zoologist Ivan Sanderson said about Jacko in one of his collections of wildman evidence:
“one of his species had been reported from the same area by Mr. Alexander Caulfield Anderson, a well-known explorer and an executive of the Hudson’s Bay Company, who was doing a ‘survey’ of the newly opened territory and seeking a feasible trade route through it for his company. He reported just such hairy humanoids as having hurled rocks down upon him and his surveying party from more than one slope. That was in 1864.”
In 1967, in the Bluff Creek region of Northern California, Roger Patterson and Bob Gimlin managed to shoot a short color film of a female Sasquatch. They also made casts of her footprints. These prints, which were 14 inches long, were 5.5 inches wide at the ball and 4 inches wide at the heel Several opinions have been expressed about the film. While some authorities have said it is an outright fake, others have said they think it provides good evidence in favor of the reality of the Sasquatch. Mixed opinions have also been put forward. A man could have sufficient height and suitable proportions to mimic the longitudinal dimensions of the Sasquatch. The shoulder breadth however would be difficult to achieve without giving an unnatural appearance to the arm swing and shoulder contours” Anthropologist Myra Shackley of the University of Leicester observed that the majority view seems to be
“that the film could be a hoax, but if so an incredibly clever one.”
“if any of them is real then as scientists we have a lot to explain. Among other things we shall have to re-write the story of human evolution. Critics, however, assert that all these footprints have been faked. Undoubtedly, some footprints have been faked, a fact the staunchest supporters of the Sasquatch will readily admit. But could every single one of them be a hoax?
Grover S. Krantz, an anthropologist at Washington State University, was initially skeptical of Sasquatch reports.In reconstructing the skeletal structure of the foot from a print, he noted that the ankle was positioned more forward than in a human foot. Taking into consideration the reported height and weight of an adult Sasquatch, Krantz, using his knowledge of physical anthropology, calculated just how far forward the ankle would have to be set. Returning to the prints, he found that the position of the ankle exactly matched his theoretical calculations.
“That’s when I decided the thing is real,”
said Krantz.
“There is no way a faker could have known how far forward to set that ankle. It took me a couple of months to work it out with the casts in hand, so you have to figure how much smarter a faker would’ve had to be”
Typically the prints are 14 to 18 inches long and 5 to 9 inches wide, giving a surface roughly 3 to 4 times larger than that of an average human foot. Hence the popular name Bigfoot. To make a Sasquatch footprint as deep as an average human footprint would require a weight 3 to 4 times greater than that of an average-sized man. In all cases, however, whether the prints are in snow, mud, dirt, or wet sand, the Sasquatch prints are much deeper than those made by a man walking right next to them in the same material. Thus a weight of more than 3 or 4 times that of a man is required to make the Sasquatch prints. A 200-pound man would have to be carrying at least 500 pounds to make a good print. There are reports of series of prints extending from three-quarters of a mile up to several miles, in deserted regions far away from the nearest roads. The stride length of a Sasquatch varies from 4 to 6 feet (the stride length of an average man is about 3 feet). Try walking a mile with at least 500 pounds on your back and taking strides 5 feet long. In several cases, the Sasquatch footprints indicated the maker strode over large logs, which a human of normal size could not have gotten over without disturbing the fresh snow clearly visible on their tops. In some cases, the distance between the toes of the footprints varied from one print to the next in a single series of prints. This means that besides all the other problems facing a hoaxer, he would have had to incorporate moving parts into his artificial feet. Furthermore, in order to insure that some of his fake prints would be found, any hoaxer would probably have had to make more trails of footprints than were actually discovered—and that means a lot of work. In conclusion, critics have failed to explain all the footprints as the work of hoaxers. It would seem, therefore, that the footprints argue strongly for the reality of the Sasquatch, as demonstrated by the following case. On June 10, 1982, Paul Freeman, a U.S. Forest Service patrolman tracking elk in the Walla Walla district of Washington State, observed a hairy biped around 8 feet tall, standing about 60 yards from him. After 30 seconds, the large animal walked away. Krantz studied casts of the creature’s footprints and found dermal ridges, sweat pores, and other features in the proper places for large primate feet. Detailed skin impressions on the side walls of the prints indicated the presence of a flexible sole pad. Krantz solicited opinions from other scholars and fingerprint experts. Tatyana Gladkova, a specialist in dermatoglyphics from the USSR Institute of Anthropology, said:
“I see dermal ridges of the arch type distally directed. I see sweat pores. If it’s a fake, it’s a brilliant fake, on the level of counterfeiting, and by someone well versed in dermatoglyphics”
Douglas M. Monsoor, a master police fingerprint examiner from Lakewood, Colorado, stated:
“I see the presence of ridge structure in these casts, which, in my examination, appears consistent with that type of ridge structure you would find in a human. Under magnification, they evidence all the minute characteristics similar to human dermal ridges. They appear to be casts of impressions of a primate foot—of a creature different from any of which I am aware”
The majority of the Sasquatch reports come from the northwestern United States and British Columbia. However, there are also numerous reports from the eastern parts of the United States and Canada. For example there were, as of 1977, 11 reports from New York, more than 24 reports from Pennsylvania, 19 reports from Ohio, 18 from Michigan, 9 from Tennessee, more than 36 from New Jersey, 19 from Arkansas, 23 from Illinois, 30 from Texas, and 104 from Florida, 74 reports from Montana, 32 from Idaho, 176 from Oregon, 281 from Washington, 225 from British Columbia, and 343 from California.
“One is forced to conclude that a man-like life-form of gigantic proportions is living at the present time in the wild areas of the northwestern United States and British Columbia.”
Central And South America In Buckskin Joe, Edward Jonathan Hoyt reported an encounter he had in 1898 in Honduras. A large, apelike creature, about 5 feet tall, crawled over the end of his bunk. Hoyt killed the animal, which resembled a human From southern Mexico’s tropical forests come accounts of beings called the Sisimite. Wendell Skousen, a geologist, said the people of Cubulco in Baja Verapaz reported: “There live in the mountains very big, wild men, completely clothed in short, thick, brown, hairy fur, with no necks, small eyes, long arms and huge hands. They leave footprints twice the length of a man’s.” “it looked like a bear, but it wasn’t from the description that they gave—no conspicuous ears, no ‘snout’” Similar creatures are reported in Guatemala, where, it has been said, they kidnap women and children From the eastern slopes of the Andes in Ecuador come reports of the Shiru, a small fur-covered hominidlike creature, about 4 to 5 feet tall (Sanderson 1961, p. 166). In Brazil, people tell of the large apelike Mapinguary, which leaves giant humanlike footprints and is said to kill cattle. Yeti: Wildmen of The Himalayas Myra Shackley observed that Yeti are found in Nepalese and Tibetan religious paintings depicting hierarchies of living beings.
“Here, bears, apes, and langurs are depicted separate from the wildman, suggesting there is no confusion (at least in the minds of the artists) between these forms.”
After reviewing the available reports, Ivan Sanderson compiled the following composite description of the Yeti:
“Somewhat larger than man-sized and much more sturdy, with short legs and long arms; clothed in long rather shaggy fur or hair, same length all over and not differentiated. Naked face and other parts jet black; bull-neck and small conical head with heavy browridges; fanged canine teeth; can drop hands to ground and stand on knuckles like gorilla. Heel very wide and foot almost square and very large, second toe longer and larger than first, and both these separated and semi-opposed to the remaining three which are very small and webbed.”
In November of 1951, Eric Shipton, while reconnoitering the approaches to Mt. Everest, found footprints on the Menlung glacier, near the border between Tibet and Nepal, at an elevation of 18,000 feet. Shipton followed the trail for a mile. Already well known as a mountaineer, Shipton could not easily be accused of publicity-seeking. A close-up photograph of one of the prints has proved convincing to many. In 1956, Professor E. S. Williams photographed some prints on the Biafo glacier in the Karakoram mountains. Napier, who thought it likely that they were the superimposed prints of the front and rear paws of a bear, said
“It is impossible to state categorically that Williams’s prints are those of a bear and not of a Yeti, but in the spirit of Bishop of Ockham it seems more reasonable to explain a phenomenon in terms of the known rather than the unknown.”
Of course, in avoiding the relatively straightforward explanation that a peculiar set of tracks in snow was made by an unknown animal, one is forced to come up with all kinds of speculative hypotheses about the superimposition of prints of various animals and humans, or the transformation of such prints by melting, in a manner not clearly understood. And this would also appear to be a violation of a key aspect of Ockham’s razor—namely, that the simplest of competing theories is preferable to the more complex. Some Buddhist monasteries claim to have physical remains of the Yeti. One category of such relics is Yeti scalps, but the ones studied by Western scientists are thought to have been made from the skins of known animals. In 1960, Sir Edmund Hillary mounted an expedition to collect and evaluate evidence for the Yeti and sent a Yeti scalp from the Khumjung monastery to the West for testing. The results indicated that the scalp had been manufactured from the skin of the serow, a goatlike Himalayan antelope. But some disagreed with this analysis. Shackley said they
“pointed out that hairs from the scalp look distinctly monkey-like, and that it contains parasitic mites of a species different from that recovered from the serow.”
In 1978, Lord Hunt, who headed the British Mt. Everest expedition of 1953, saw Yeti tracks and heard the high-pitched cry the Yeti is said to make. Lord Hunt, described by Shackley as “a vigorous champion of the Yeti,” had come upon similar tracks in 1953. In both 1953 and 1978, the tracks were found at altitudes of 15,000 to 20,000 feet, too high for the either the black or red bears of the Himalayas. It is interesting to note that science has recognized the existence of many fossil species on the strength of their footprints alone. The hypotheses and reconstructions of cryptozoology (regarding animals actually alive) are no more daring, questionable, fantastic, or illegitimate than those upon which paleontology has based its reconstructions of the fauna of past ages. The Almas of Central Asia There is another wildman, the Almas, which seems smaller and more human. A drawing of an Almas is found in a nineteenth-century Mongol compendium of medicines derived from various plants and animals. The text next to the picture reads:
“The wildman lives in the mountains, his origins close to that of the bear, his body resembles that of man, and he has enormous strength. His meat may be eaten to treat mental diseases and his gall cures jaundice” Reports of the Almas are concentrated in an area extending from Mongolia in the north, south through the Pamirs, and then westward into the Caucasus region. Similar reports come from Siberia and the far northeast parts of the Russian republic.
Early in the fifteenth century, Hans Schiltenberger wrote in his book of the Tien Shan mountain range in Mongolia: “The inhabitants say that beyond the mountains is the beginning of a wasteland which lies at the edge of the earth. No one can survive there because the desert is populated by so many snakes and tigers. In the mountains themselves live wild people, who have nothing in common with other human beings. A pelt covers the entire body of these creatures. Only the hands and face are free of hair. They run around in the hills like animals and eat foliage and grass and whatever else they can find. The lord of the territory made Egidi a present of a couple of forest people, a man and a woman. They had been caught in the wilderness, together with three untamed horses the size of asses and all sorts of other animals which are not found in German lands and which I cannot therefore put a name to” Myra Shackley found Schiltenberger’s account especially credible for two reasons:
“First, Schiltenberger reports that he saw the creatures with his own eyes. Secondly, he refers to Przewalski horses, which were only rediscovered by Nicholai Przewalski in 1881. Przewalski himself saw ‘wildmen’ in Mongolia in 1871.”
Shackley noted:
“The book contains thousands of illustrations of various classes of animals, but not one single mythological animal such as are known from similar medieval European books. All the creatures are living and observable today.”
The Pamir mountains, lying in a remote region where the borders of Tadzhikistan, China, Kashmir, and Afghanistan meet, have been the scene of many Almas sightings. In 1925, Mikhail Stephanovitch Topilski, a major-general in the Soviet army, led his unit in an assault on an anti-Soviet guerilla force hiding in a cave in the Pamirs. One of the surviving guerillas said that while in the cave he and his comrades were attacked by several apelike creatures. The body of one such creature was found.
“It was covered with hair all over. But I knew there were no apes in the Pamirs. Also, the body itself looked very much like that of a man. We tried pulling the hair, to see if it was just a hide used for disguise, but found that it was the creature’s own natural hair. We turned the body over several times on its back and its front, and measured it. Our doctor made a long and thorough inspection of the body, and it was clear that it was not a human being. The body belonged to a male creature 165–170 cm [about 5½ feet] tall, elderly or even old, judging by the greyish colour of the hair in several places. The chest was covered with brownish hair and the belly with greyish hair. The hair was longer but sparser on the chest and close-cropped and thick on the belly. In general the hair was very thick, without any underfur. There was least hair on the buttocks, from which fact our doctor deduced that the creature sat like a human being. There was most hair on the hips. The knees were completely bare of hair and had callous growths on them. The whole foot including the sole was quite hairless and was covered by hard brown skin. The hair got thinner near the hand, and the palms had none at all but only callous skin.” “The colour of the face was dark, and the creature had neither beard nor moustache. The temples were bald and the back of the head was covered by thick, matted hair. The dead creature lay with its eyes open and its teeth bared. The eyes were dark and the teeth were large and even and shaped like human teeth. The forehead was slanting and the eyebrows were very powerful. The protruding jawbones made the face resemble the Mongol type of face. The nose was flat, with a deeply sunk bridge. The ears were hairless and looked a little more pointed than a human being’s with a longer lobe. The lower jaw was very massive. The creature had a very powerful chest and well developed muscles. The arms were of normal length, the hands were slightly wider and the feet much wider and shorter than man’s.”
According to testimony from villagers of Tkhina, on the Mokvi River, a female Almas was captured there during the nineteenth century, in the forests of Mt. Zaadan. For three years, she was kept imprisoned, but then became domesticated and was allowed to live in a house. She was called Zana. (artists impression) “Her skin was a greyish-black colour, covered with reddish hair, longer on her head than elsewhere. She was capable of inarticulate cries but never developed a language. She had a large face with big cheek bones, muzzle-like prognathous jaw and large eyebrows, big white teeth and a ‘fierce expression.’” Eventually Zana, through sexual relations with a villager, had children. Some of Zana’s grandchildren were seen by Boris Porshnev in 1964. “The grandchildren, Chalikoua and Taia, had darkish skin of rather negroid appearance, with very prominent chewing muscles and extra strong jaws.” Was 19th Century apewoman a yeti? 6ft 6in Russian serf who could outrun a horse was 'not human', according to DNA tests In 1899, K. A. Satunin, a Russian zoologist, spotted a female Biaban-guli in the Talysh hills of the southern Caucasus. He stated that the creature had “fully human movements” (Shackley 1983, p. 109). The fact that Satunin was a well-known zoologist makes his report particularly significant. Wildmen of China
“Chinese historical documents, and many city and town annals, contain abundant records of Wildman, which are given various names,”
states Zhou Guoxing of the Beijing Museum of Natural History. Two thousand years ago, the poet-statesman Qu Yuan made many references to Shangui (mountain ogres) in his verses. Li Yanshow, a historian who lived during the T’Ang Dynasty (a.d. 618–907), stated that the forests of Hubei province sheltered a band of wildmen. Wildmen also appeared in the writings of Li Shizhen, a pharmacologist of the Ming Dynasty (a.d. 1368–1644). In the fifty-first volume of his massive work on medical ingredients, he described several species of humanoid creatures, including one named Fei-fei. Li wrote:
“‘Feifei,’ which are called ‘manbear,’ are also found in the mountainous areas in west Shu and Chu division, where people skin them and eat their palms. The You mountain of Sha county, Fujian province, sees the same ones, standing about one zhang (equal to 3.1 meters [ just over 10 feet]) in height and smiling to the people they come across, and are called ‘shandaren’ (men as big as mountains), ‘wildmen,’ or ‘shanxiao’”.
In the eighteenth century, the Chinese poet Yuan Mei made reference to strange creatures inhabiting the wild regions of Shanxi province, calling them “monkeylike, yet not monkeylike” According to Zhou:
“Even today, in the area of Fang County, Hubei Province, there are still legends about ‘maoren’ (hairy men) or ‘wildmen.’ A local chronicle, about 200 years old, says that ‘the Fang mountain lying 40 li (2 li equals one kilometer [.62 mile]) south to the county town is precipitous and full of holes, where live many maoren, about one zhang high and hair-coated. They often come down to eat human beings and chickens and dogs, and seize those who fight with them.’A lantern on which there is an ornament of a ‘maoren’ figure was unearthed in this area during an archaeological excavation. It has been dated at 2,000 years”
In 1940, Wang Zelin, a graduate of the biology department of Northwestern University in Chicago, was able to directly see a wildman shortly after it was shot to death by hunters. Wang was driving from Baoji, in Shanxi Province, to Tianshui, in Gansu Province, when he heard gunfire ahead of him. He got out of the car to satisfy his curiosity and saw a corpse. It was a female creature, six and a half feet tall and covered with a coat of thick greyish-red hair about one and a quarter inches long. The hair on its face was shorter. The cheek bones were prominent, and the lips jutted out. The hair on the head was about one foot long. According to Wang, the creature looked like a reconstruction of the Chinese Homo erectus. Ten years later, another scientist, Fun Jinquan, a geologist, saw some living wildmen. Zhou Guoxing stated: “With the help of local guides, he watched, at a safe distance, two local Wildmen in the mountain forest near Baoji County, Shanxi Province, in the spring of 1950. They were mother and son, the smaller one being 1.6 meters in height. Both looked human” In 1961, workers building a road through the heavily forested Xishuang Banna region of Yunnan province in southernmost China reported killing a humanlike female primate. The creature was 1.2–1.3 meters (about 4 feet) tall and covered with hair. It walked upright, and according to the eyewitness reports, its hands, ears, and breasts were like those of a female human. The Chinese Academy of Sciences sent a team to investigate, but they were not able to obtain any physical evidence. Some suggested that the workers had come upon a gibbon. But Zhou Guoxing stated:
“The present author recently visited a newsman who took part in that investigation. He stated that the animal which had been killed was not a gibbon, but an unknown animal of human shape. It is worth noting that, over the past 2 years or so, some people in the western border areas of Yunnan Province say that the above-mentioned kind of Wildman still move about, and that another one has since been killed”
Consider the case of Pang Gensheng, a local commune leader, who was confronted in the forest by a wildman. Pang, who stood face to face with the creature, said;
“He was about seven feet tall, with shoulders wider than a man’s, a sloping forehead, deep-set eyes and a bulbous nose with slightly upturned nostrils. He had sunken cheeks, ears like a man’s but bigger, and round eyes, also bigger than a man’s. His jaw jutted out and he had protruding lips. His front teeth were as broad as a horse’s. His eyes were black. His hair was dark brown, more than a foot long and hung loosely over his shoulders. His whole face, except for the nose and ears, was covered with short hairs. His arms hung down to below his knees. He had big hands with fingers about six inches long and thumbs only slightly separated from the fingers. He didn’t have a tail and the hair on his body was short. He had thick thighs, shorter than the lower part of his leg. He walked upright with his legs apart. His feet were each about 12 inches long and half that broad—broader in front and narrow behind, with splayed toes”
Wildmen of Malaysia And Indonesia In 1969, John McKinnon, who journeyed to Borneo to observe orangutans, came across some humanlike footprints. McKinnon asked his Malay boatman what made them.
“Without a moment’s hesitation he replied ‘Batutut,’” wrote McKinnon, “but when I asked him to describe the beast he said it was not an animal but a type of ghost. Batutut, he told me, is about four feet tall, walks upright like a man and has a long black mane. Like other spirits of the forest the creature is very shy of light and fire”
Later, in Malaya, McKinnon saw some casts of footprints even bigger than those he had seen in Borneo, but he recognized them as definitely having been made by the same kind of creature. The Malayans called it Orangpendek (short fellow). McKinnon stated:
“Again natives spoke of a creature with long hair, who walks upright like a man. Drawings and even photographs of similar footprints found in Sumatra are attributed to the Sedapa or Umang, a small, shy, long-haired, bipedal being living deep in the forest” (Green 1978, pp. 134 –135). According to Ivan Sanderson, these footprints differ from those of the anthropoid apes inhabiting the Indonesian forests (the gibbon, siamang, and orangutan). They are also distinct from those of the sun bear (Sanderson 1961, p. 219).
In a journal article about wildmen published in 1918, Westenek recorded a report from a Mr. Oostingh, who lived in Sumatra. Once while proceeding through the forest, he came upon a man sitting on a log and facing away from him. Oostingh stated:
“I saw that he had short hair, cut short, I thought; and I suddenly realised that his neck was oddly leathery and extremely filthy. ‘That chap’s got a very dirty and wrinkled neck!’ I said to myself. His body was as large as a medium-sized native’s and he had thick square shoulders, not sloping at all. . . . he seemed to be quite as tall as I (about 5 feet 9 inches). Then I saw that it was not a man.” “It was not an orang-utan,” declared Oostingh. “I had seen one of these large apes a short time before.”
What was the creature if not an orangutan? Oostingh could not say for sure:
“It was more like a monstrously large siamang, but a siamang has long hair, and there was no doubt that it had short hair”
Mainstream Science and Wildman Reports Despite all the evidence we have presented, most recognized authorities in anthropology and zoology decline to discuss the existence of wildmen. If they mention wildmen at all, they rarely present the really strong evidence for their existence, focusing instead on the reports least likely to challenge their disbelief. Hand and foot bones of wildmen, and even a head, have been collected. Competent persons report having examined bodies of wildmen. And there are also a number of accounts of capture. That none of this physical evidence has made its way into museums and other scientific institutions may be taken as a failure of the process for gathering and preserving evidence. The operation of what we could call a knowledge filter tends to keep evidence tinged with disrepute outside official channels. However, some scientists with solid reputations, such as Krantz, Napier, Shackley, Porshnev, and others, have found in the available evidence enough reason to conclude that wildmen do in fact exist, or, at least, that the question of their existence is worthy of serious study. Myra Shackley wrote to our researcher Steve Bernath on December 4, 1984:
“As you know, this whole question is highly topical, and there has been an awful lot of correspondence and publication flying around on the scene. Opinions vary, but I guess that the commonest would be that there is indeed sufficient evidence to suggest at least the possibility of the existence of various unclassified manlike creatures, but that in the present state of our knowledge it is impossible to comment on their significance in any more detail. The position is further complicated by misquotes, hoaxing, and lunatic fringe activities, but a surprising number of hardcore anthropologists seem to be of the opinion that the matter is very worthwhile investigating.”
Read on AO3 Summary: The worst has come to pass. What will the main 3 (and Janus) do without Patton? Notes: You may notice that chapter 3 is not in this subreddit. That is for a very good reason. Still, if you really wanna read it, check my profile or read the whole way through on my AO3! Heed the warnings, though, and keep yourselves safe. Now, without further ado, here's the next chapter with a little fluff to balance the angst! Trigger warnings: super slight blood (essence) mentions, crying, mentions of past panic attacks. Please let me know if I need to tag for anything else. Virgil didn’t dare move from where he stood, once cradling Patton’s head. Now, there was barely a sign that he’d ever been there, only weeping shards left in his wake. It was starting to soak into Virgil’s pants and hoodie sleeves, but he didn’t notice. All he could see was the sinister blue covering the table and flowing onto the floor. His heart exploded in his ears, nearly deafening in the silence that gripped them. It was kind of funny, really. Virgil had such a penchant for being wrong when he got into one of his moods. So why was it that the one time he wanted so desperately to be wrong, he wasn’t? One of his worst fears had come true and he’d been powerless to stop it. The universe could be so cruel. “P-Patton… wh-why did it have to be Patton, of all sides?” Roman softly sobbed. He still held on to the splintered fragments of Patton’s hand. Logan wiped at his eyes with his shirtsleeve and readjusted his glasses. Blue fingerprints lingered on the frames. “There was nothing else we could’ve done.” Virgil swallowed thickly. “Wh-why was he so afraid to talk to us about this?” he asked. Roman puffed up. “He wasn’t! How dare you even suggest that we were the ones to put him into this situation!” he cried, tears mixing with the puddles of bright blue. Logan put a firm hand on his shoulder and for once in his life, Roman backed off. “Alright, Sir Jumps-a-lot,” Virgil started, but was caught off guard by a little golden orb floating through the window. “Is … is that a thought?” Two more rose from where Patton had been sitting. They drifted closer to the center of the table where Patton’s shards still rested. Once over him, they simply hovered, absorbing the blue essence beneath them. “What are they doing?” “I don’t know, I’ve never seen this happen before,” Roman replied, transfixed on the sight of the thoughts. All at once, they became restless, boiling rapidly beneath the surface and madly flitting around the room like three loose Golden Snitches. “Hit the decks!” Roman cried, taking cover beneath the table. Virgil followed. One just missed Logan before he dropped beneath the table. They grew and quickened, slamming into the walls with deafening shrieks. The castle shook with every blow. “Oh God oh God oh God,” Virgil mumbled under his breath, like praying would send these abominations away. A huge crash sent rocky shrapnel flying in every direction. Virgil felt the impact of several smaller pebbles against his body. Then it was quiet. Virgil finally uncovered his head after a few seconds and looked around. Giant bus sized holes gaped fervently on three walls, like the castle itself was crying out. Pieces of elegant stonework laid broken on the ground amid the tattered ruins of some of Roman’s finest tapestries. Dust lingered in the air. “Are you all unharmed?” came Logan’s voice. Virgil nodded, still in awe of the destruction that lay around them. Roman looked devastated. “I’m fine, but look what those boorish orbs did to my precious palace! What were those things?” He walked over to one of the holes and put his hand on the edge of it. Almost as soon as his hand hit, he jerked it back with a hiss. “They were thoughts,” Logan started, walking over to Roman with a small first aid kit in hand, “that appeared to have absorbed Patton’s essence.” “… And?” Virgil asked. Logan rubbed some burn ointment onto Roman’s hand and began to bandage it. “Those thoughts appear to have his power. If they were troublesome before, then that must mean—” “They intend to wreak havoc here, too,” Roman interrupted. Logan cleared his throat. “Yes. But I wonder … Could they bring him back?” Virgil’s and Roman’s eyes went wide. “You really think those things out there are the key to reviving Patton? They’re monsters! Patton isn’t a monster!” Virgil bit. “That wasn’t what I was implying. Those thoughts acted rashly when exposed to his essence because Patton was in a state of turmoil before he … Didn’t you notice that when you touched it, you began to feel things you didn’t normally feel?” said Logan. “Well yeah, but aren’t people supposed to be sad when they lose someone they l … care about?” Virgil asked. “Nice save,” said Roman. “In people, yes, but we are not people. We are facets of a whole personality, hence we cannot take many intricacies from another side without some sort of medium, which brings me back to the point. If Patton’s stray thoughts have enough of his essence within them, then perhaps they are enough to resurrect him,” Logan explained. “What other choice do we have?” asked Roman. “We can’t just let those rogue ruminations run rampant through the realm.” “Then it’s settled. We must go after these manifestations with due haste,” Logan said. “Perhaps it would be better to each take on one of these creatures. If my calculations are correct, we don’t have long to get them back before they become inert. Although it would make my job easier if we didn’t have to worry about trivial emotions getting in the way … But I certainly don’t want to pick up the slack from Patton’s absence.” “How can you even say that? Are you sure you’re not a dark side in disguise?” Virgil said, running his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh. “Not the time, Virgil. Okay. How do you know we’re on a time limit? And how are we supposed to fight these thoughts?” “Simple mathematics. It took nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds for the essence on my hands to stop affecting me in a way that hindered me. As for how to go about defeating them, I suspect Roman may be able to help,” said Logan. “Oh sure, you didn’t want to help me earlier but now I have to help you. Pah!” Roman said, throwing his hands in the air. Instantly, both Logan and Virgil were donning jester’s costumes with squeaky swords at their sides while Roman was decked out in full chainmail armor. Virgil gave an indignant look to Roman, who was snickering at his handiwork. “You can’t seriously expect us to go up against those with these,” he spat, motioning to his novelty weapon. “Virgil is right. We wouldn’t be able to fight effectively with this,” Logan said. “We will also need a way to transport the creatures back, but I may have a solution for that.” He conjured up three small glass jars. “Ugh, fine,” Roman groaned. He waved his hand and the two were changed into more fitting clothes: a rogue outfit and dagger for Virgil and for Logan, wizard’s robes and a magic staff. “Better?” Virgil, who had been covertly admiring his garb, put one hand behind his head and said, “It’s alright I guess.” “This is adequate. Now, we have exactly three hours, fifty-eight minutes, and twenty seconds to bring these thoughts back before his essence leaves them,” Logan said, waving his hand and conjuring a countdown timer for all of them. “Then what are we waiting for?” asked Virgil. Roman nodded. “Let’s get this pony rolling!” “I’m sorry, there are ponies involved? That would be a much faster method of travel than walking,” Logan pointed out. Roman almost countered that, but took a moment to think. “You’re right,” he said, conjuring some horses. “Now let’s go!” With that, the sides mounted their horses with varying degrees of difficulty and set off in three separate directions. Roman was usually so happy to be riding in the Imagination. Nothing beat the feeling of the wind through his hair, or the steady bouncing of the horse’s gait, or the rhythmic pounding of hooves on the ground. But this time, he could find no joy atop his trusty mount. Not with his thoughts racing faster. Instead, he kept his body poised like a jockey and let the horse do the work. She always knew where he needed to go. Thankfully, the path was a little easier to see since one of the loose Eldritch abominations carved its way through the lush evergreen forests. He still couldn’t believe any of this was real. Not even an hour ago, they had all been sitting around the Round Table, poised to discuss video ideas. Now, they were all on a life-or-continued-death quest to stop Patton’s thoughts from destroying everything in enough time to revive him. Even he thought that plotline was a bit contrived. Nevertheless, here he rode, off to accomplish the task at hand like the hero Patton believed him to be. A flash of blue whizzed by in Roman’s periphery. He pulled the reins hard and wheeled his horse around. Another subtle movement shuffled in the undergrowth to his right. He dismounted as quietly as he could and drew his sword. The leaves rustled again. He slowly stalked toward them, ready to pounce. Suddenly, a blue toad jumped out from the foliage and onto Roman’s chest briefly before saying, “Tag, you’re it!” and hopping quickly away. Roman blinked. “Well that’s new,” he mumbled to himself. He sheathed his sword and looked at the toad, still hopping away. It slowed, turned around, and stared for a moment before hopping back toward Roman. “Aren’t you gonna chase me?” it asked from a distance. That voice sounded so familiar … “I’m sorry, fair frog, but I can’t play with you. I’m on an urgent quest to find a rampaging beast. You haven’t happened to see one around here, have you?” said Roman. The toad brought one little arm up to its chin in thought. “Hmm, I don’t think I’ve seen one around here …” Its eyes shone. “Oh, a quest! Can I come with you? It sounds so much more fun than playing tag with myself! Please please pleeeeeeeease!” it said, bouncing in place. Roman, understandably, was a little put-off by this toad. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. You’re much too small to fight, and this may be the most difficult quest I will ever go on.” He made his way back to his horse. The toad followed. “Please? I promise I won’t get in the way!” said the toad, clinging to Roman’s boot with tears in its eyes. Roman sighed. “Fine, but you stay in the saddlebag,” he huffed. The toad binkied happily in little circles. “Yay! We’re going on a quest! We’re going on a quest! I don’t know what we’ll do but hey, we’ll make up all the rest!” it sang. It leapt into Roman’s arms. “Onward to adventure!” It pointed an arm out in front of them. “Yeah,” Roman said, stuffing the toad in his saddlebag with much protest. He pulled the countdown timer out of the bag on his belt. 03:01:42. Had he already been gone for this long? He stuffed it back in and hoisted himself onto the saddle. Or rather, he would have if there weren’t a troublesome toad sitting there already. “Woooaah, is this what it’s like to be a horseback rider? How do I make it go?” it gleamed. It tried to whip the reins but could barely lift them without toppling over. “Hold on a minute. You don’t make it go anywhere,” Roman said, lifting the toad off the saddle and putting it back in the saddlebag. “I do.” He tried to mount once more to find the toad sitting on top of the horse’s head. “What the …! How do you keep doing that?” He grabbed the frog again and put him back in the saddlebag, making sure to fasten it this time. Yet again, the toad appeared before him, this time sitting on the horse’s neck. “Doing what?” it innocently asked. And yet again, Roman turned to stuff the toad back in, only to find three others already in there. “What in the name of accumulating amphibians is going on here?!” Roman shouted. “Why are there four of you?!” “Huh? Oh, there aren’t four of me!” As if to illustrate his point, hundreds of blue toads emerged from hiding all around them. “It would get pretty boring if I was playing tag with only four of me!” One of them hopped on top of Roman’s head. “Alright, enough! Only one of you can come with me,” Roman said. The toads just smiled. “Well why didn’t you say so?” All of them but the one on his head disappeared into mist, and the one that remained almost glowed. “Onward to adventure!” the toad cried again. Roman just put his head in his hands with a small groan. The two were off and at a full gallop through the razed forest. About five seconds down the road, the toad said, “You wanna play I Spy? I do! I’ll go first! I spy with my little eye, something … red!” “I really can’t play this right now, we need to be on the lookout for a rampaging monster,” Roman replied. “Aww come on, this is an easy one, I know you can get it!” “Not now.” The toad huffed. “Well you’re no fun. What kind of adventure is this anyway?” “Not the fun kind,” Roman said. “We’re running out of time.” “Pssshhh, no we’re not. There’s always time for fun!” the toad exclaimed. Roman grunted. “What part of urgent quest did you not understand? We only have so long to bring him back! Now please, make yourself useful and help me look for a rampaging beast.” “Bring who back?” the toad asked. Roman stayed silent for a long while. “Didja hear me?” “A very close friend of mine,” Roman finally replied. “Oh,” said the toad. “So your friend is the monster?” “No! Yes? I don’t know. It’s hard to explain,” Roman said, getting more agitated with each passing second. The toad stayed silent for a good moment. “What’s your friend’s name? Maybe I heard of ‘em,” said the toad. “Patton,” came Roman’s solemn reply. “Hey, that kinda sounds like my name!” squealed the toad. “Oh?” said Roman. The edge of the path quickly approached. “Wait, this is where the destruction ends, he should be right here!” He tugged on the reins and dismounted quickly. The toad hopped to the ground. “Hey, I think I remember something about this place,” it said. Roman turned and squatted in front of the toad. “Tell me.” The toad hopped in place. “This is where I first started playing tag with myself! There were so many more of me then … Maybe some of them are still hiding! Will you help me look?” he asked. Roman huffed. “I have to find whatever cantankerous creature came this far, so I don’t have time to be playing around!” The toad recoiled. “Wh-why are you yelling at me?” he whined, huge tears welling up in his eyes. His color dimmed a bit. Roman put a hand against his cheek, tugging at his bottom eyelid. Why did this have to be happening to him now of all times? “Look, I’m sorry, little, uh … what did you say your name was again?” The toad sniffled and wiped at his cheek. “L-Lilypadton,” he replied. “Okay, I’m sorry, Lilypadton, but I just don’t have the time to—” Roman paused. “Wait a moment. Lilypadton. Lily-padton. Lily-Patton.” His eyes lit up. “By the horn of a unicorn! I’m surprised I didn’t think of this before!” He picked the blubbering toad up. “You’re the one I’ve been looking for!” “I-I am?” Lilypadton asked. Roman nodded, his own eyes shimmering a little. “Indeed. I didn’t expect a rampaging thought could turn into such a … tiny creature as yourself. From the way you cut down all of these trees, I thought you’d have been a bit bigger. But uh, no matter! You’re going to help me bring my friend back!” He hugged Lilypadton tight to his armor. “Mister, you’re choking me!” Lilypadton croaked. Roman immediately loosened his grip. “Sorry, I got a little carried away for a moment there. Let’s get you back to my castle with haste!” He put Lilypadton on his shoulder and climbed back on his horse, and instantly the horse went into a full gallop. The poor Pat-toad hung on to Roman’s pauldron for dear life. Around ten minutes down the road, once Lilypadton had settled on the saddle horn, he suddenly spoke. “Did … did I do all of this?” Roman looked down at him. “Yes, but I don’t think you meant to,” he said, bringing his gaze back up to the road. “I think I remember something else,” Lilypadton softly said. “Oh?” “Yeah. We were in here somewhere. I … was taller. Like you! I saw you, too. You were so brave fighting that big scary lion snake goat thingy! But then you got hurt, and it was all because of me wanting to save that poor bunny, and I didn’t ever want you to get hurt but you did and if I hadn’t been so trusting and just done what you said in the first place, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt and it wouldn’t have been my fault.” Lilypadton dimmed a little more. “B-but then you said, ‘I can’t believe you fell for that obvious trap, Patton. Didn’t you notice the footprints on the ground near it or the horrible stench coming from just behind the trees? It really surprises me, the way you can be so naive sometimes.’ And then, I felt my chest hurting real bad.” Roman looked again at the little toad, wide-eyed and near frozen. He still had the little scar on his arm from the chimera’s attack, barely worth mentioning against the numerous others he had accumulated from other, more dangerous creatures. What startled him was hearing Patton’s perspective of this. Lilypadton flopped against Roman’s breastplate. “I-I’m so sorry,” he whimpered. Roman banished his chainmail and put a hand on Lilypadton’s back, pressing him gently into his chest. “You were holding onto that this whole time. And all because I made a stupid, offhand comment,” he said, hooking the reins around the saddle horn and holding his face in his newly freed hand. Fresh tears streaked over his gauntlets. Hadn’t there been enough crying for one day? He continued. “Padre, please believe me when I tell you that I, in no way, hold that day against you. I shouldn’t have said what I said, because that’s not what I think of you at all. That day, I was so impressed that you wanted to help that slovenly little lapin, despite me telling you that you didn’t have to. And then you showed me how brave you were, still helping that creature while that chimera roared at you. I still remember you telling it, ‘Now you just wait your turn, mister, I’ll pet you in a minute!’ It was one of the greatest adventures I’d ever had with you.” He stroked the little toad. Lilypadton croaked softly against his chest. “Had I known that my careless comment was something that led to you being in this state, I would have washed my own mouth out with soap. I should be the one apologizing to you, Patton.” Lilypadton smiled, eyes still brimming with tears. “Thank you, Roman,” he said, burrowing closer like a small child being held. Roman just smiled and rubbed Lilypadton’s little back, content to have not only found this toad in the first place, but a piece of Patton that he never knew before. Roman’s palace loomed in the distance. It wouldn’t be long before the two reached the remains of Patton prime. Roman felt Lilypadton slowly transform in his hand, now nothing but a bright blue thought. Logan, though not as well versed in the equine arts as Roman, found himself to be a natural when behind the reins of a beautiful, sure-footed Paso Fino. What wasn’t natural, however, was trying to do that while wearing a star-spangled bathrobe. Eventually, he’d had to stop his horse, conjure a hair tie, and bunch the loose fabric between his legs like a bike-riding lady in the 1890’s. “How asinine,” he mumbled to himself as he followed the river south. If his calculations were correct, then he had approximately three hours and twenty-two minutes to find this troublesome thought and bring it back. In the distance, he could see storm clouds brewing over one particular location three klicks ahead of him. So, about another half hour before he would be there. Great. Part of Logan felt heavy. The other half felt like nothing at all. All he knew was that the essence crusting on his hands had something to do with how he was experiencing these feelings. Much to his chagrin, Logan did, in fact, have feelings. Just never to the extremes that Patton did. And before, standing over Patton’s bleeding form and covered in essence, those emotions were nearly enough to knock him off of his feet. He had frozen. The one minute he needed to be the dependable one, he had frozen. He had no idea what to do to save him, and he’d shattered right in front of them. And now, he could only hope that his working theory was correct. Logan gripped the reins tighter, whipping them with a sharp, “Hyah!” The horse promptly obeyed and quickened its pace. He was getting close to the epicenter of the clouds. A small streak of blue quickly differentiated itself from the surrounding landscape. Could that be … Within seconds, Logan had arrived as close to the entity as he felt comfortable and hid among the tall grasses. It had a vaguely humanoid shape with two large, white eyes, blurring through the breeze as if it were immaterial. He heard its singsong voice gently wafting over, sweet and soft against the stark, grassy landscape. Birds and other small animals gathered around it in Disney Princess fashion. Its voice rose and with it, the wind did, too. Dried leaves and loose grass circled around them. “An elemental …” Logan whispered. The wind died. The elemental whipped its head around to look directly at Logan. His heart hammered in his chest. “WHO’S THERE?” it boomed. Logan nestled deeper into the grasses. “HMM, PEACH, PEAR—” “Pineapple,” Logan inadvertently replied. He slapped a hand over his mouth. Suddenly, the wind was beneath him, hoisting him swiftly over to where the elemental hovered. Logan fumbled with the strap keeping his magic staff secured but couldn’t free it before he came to sit in front of this creature. “I THOUght I heard someone over there. Oh, I’m sorry if I scared you, kiddo, I’m not going to hurt you! Here, let me help you up,” it said. It extended what Logan thought to be an arm toward him. Logan gingerly put his hand out, expecting to pass right through, but the elemental felt solid beneath his touch. “Do you have a name I can call you?” “Um … Logan,” he responded. “Logan … what a nice name. I think I used to know someone with that name. Maybe one of my kiddos?” Logan tapped his chin. “You don’t sound like any elemental I’ve ever encountered before.” “Elemental? Oh, no, not me. I’m just Sympathos,” Sympathos said. All of the sudden, it hit Logan. “No wonder you sound so familiar. I believe I know who you are. Please come with me.” “What’s that, on your hands …?” Sympathos asked warily. The wind picked up a little bit. “It’s essence. Your essence, Patton,” Logan stated matter-of-factly. “Please, time is against us. We must return to Roman’s castle before it’s too late.” Sympathos backed away. “M-my essence? And who’s Patton? I think I’d better stay here.” A particularly cold gust of wind whipped by them. “You’re Patton. Or, a part of him, rather; one that’s doomed to fade in less than three hours unless you rejoin with your other pieces. Wouldn’t it be better to become whole again?” Sympathos shrunk. “No, no, I … I don’t think I want to go with you,” he said. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not him. I … I can’t be him!” The wind picked up a bit more. Logan had to hold onto his hat to keep it from sailing away. “Please calm down,” he said, slowly striding toward Sympathos with his hands up. Sympathos only backed away further. “You’re being irrational.” The wind died once more, leaving only a deathly quiet over them. Sympathos brought his hands to his face. “No. I’m. NOT!” he shouted, rising up in a tornado’s winds and growing just as big. Hail began falling thunderously around Logan. He shielded himself as best he could with his arm, attempting to once again release his staff from its prison on his back. He finally got it and quickly cast a shielding spell around himself. Sympathos continued. “WHY IS IT IRRATIONAL TO NOT WANT TO GO WITH SOMEONE WHO HAS A PART OF ME SMEARED ALL OVER THEIR HANDS? WHY CAN I NOT BE AFRAID OF SOMEONE WHO HURT ME?” Logan could only look up at the angry funnel cloud version of his friend. “Hurt you?” he yelled through the noise. “This essence on my hands was from trying to save you! Do you not remember?” The winds roared. “THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT. THAT’S NOt what I meant,” Sympathos said, dying down into little more than a breeze. The hail turned into tiny raindrops, slowly getting bigger as he wept. Logan dismissed most of the shielding spell, leaving only a portion above his head. He slowly walked over toward where Sympathos was crumpled on the ground. Every raindrop sent little bits of him rippling across his surface as if he, too, were made of water. “Then, would you tell me what has you so disconcerted?” Logan gently asked. He sat down beside the entity, expanding the shield to cover Sympathos from the cloudburst. Sympathos said nothing for a while, but Logan was more than keen to wait. He still had enough time to get him back, and he didn’t want to have to hurt the thought any more than he somehow already had. Finally, Sympathos spoke, “I’m not Patton. I know I’m not. But, I have his memories. His thoughts. His pain. I saw you in almost all of the memories. Especially the ones where you would tell me, ‘Your feelings are clouding your judgement,’ or something like that. Then I would feel this … this awful pain in my core.” He looked up at Logan. “How can I still have the pain that he had but have no way to know how to deal with it? How can I trust you when all I have are these aching memories?” The rain worsened as Sympathos sobbed. Logan didn’t quite know what to do. Had he hurt Patton without ever knowing it? Or had he been too blinded by his own emotions to notice? He thought back to a few months ago, when Patton had first revealed his injuries. They were so profound then, like they had been less than an hour ago at the Round Table. Wait, right after he told Patton to let the past go, those injuries worsened. How many other times had his input splintered across Patton’s chest? He had to make this right. He put one gentle hand on Sympathos’s back. “I … don’t think it would be reasonable, not after having experienced such pain by my own hand,” Logan carefully said. “I never intended to harm you, but whether I meant it or not is inconsequential to the truth of it. I still hurt you. And for that, I am truly, deeply sorry. I just wish I’d have known about your condition sooner so I could have made amends sooner. Maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess if only I’d noticed sooner …” He felt a tear of his own threatening to leak out. Sympathos looked up at him. Bittersweet laughter emanated from him, piercing through the rain in matching melancholy. “How could you have known what I never said?” He sat up as much as a spectral entity could and leaned against Logan. “I forgive you. Maybe it’s time I started trusting you all more.” Logan smiled a bit and the tears silently rolled. “I’d like that,” he said softly. Logan wasn’t used to dealing with emotions; that much went without saying. But maybe it was time to try, if for nothing— or no one— else but Patton. After another moment, the weight against his side faded and only a floating blue orb remained. Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, he retrieved the jar from where it hung on his belt and gently guided the thought in. Here, at least, he would be safe until it was time to reunite with the other pieces. As Logan remounted his horse, he noticed the rain had stopped and in its wake, a tiny rainbow appeared. Virgil swore to himself that after today, he would never, EVER, get back on a horse. It was too hard to get on the stupid thing for one. For another, there were no visible controls. He had no idea how this beast even knew what to do, and what it did was try to take off with Virgil hanging off its side. Probably Roman’s idea of a joke. Again. Now, the ride was hurting his butt. He failed to see how his day could get any worse— a hard-earned feat from a side such as himself. Now here he was, holding onto this animal for dear life as it clattered up the mountain paths, thinking of all the ways this would fail, all the ways he could plummet to his own death, and they’d have to come up with some horribly saccharine double funeral for him and Patton, or maybe they would just completely forget about him or disown him because he failed— Without warning, the horse reared, sending Virgil flying into some nearby brush. The horse ran off, evident only by the disappearing sound of hoofbeats. For a while, Virgil just laid there, staring up at the canopy above him. Stupid horse. I didn’t want to ride you anyway, he wanted to say. “Today really isn’t my day,” is what came out. He slowly started getting up, hands hurting from where he pushed into the ragged undergrowth. At least everything matched now. He looked at the path ahead. A huge earthen wall blocked most of the path. “What the— when did that get there?” Virgil said. He eyed it warily. It seemed stable enough … Maybe he could climb over to the other side? He touched it with his dagger. The blade pierced through easily, yet the wall still held. Still, there was no way he was going to scale this monstrosity, not without at least twenty different safety lines and a helmet. And anyway, it wasn’t like he couldn’t just walk around it. So he did. And immediately regretted it. A gargantuan, blue-furred bear loped on the other side, coming to stand on its hind legs. That thing had to be at least twelve feet tall! A small, “eek!” escaped Virgil’s lips as he moved to hide back behind the wall. Maybe the bear hadn’t seen him. All at once, the wall crumbled into dust, leaving Virgil facing away from a fearsome predator. He slowly turned his head to see the bear looking straight at him. With wide eyes, he slowly turned back and bolted back down the mountain. Virgil checked behind him. Of course the bear was galloping after him. “Crap crap crap crap!” he wheezed, willing his legs to go faster. The bear was gaining on him. Think, Virgil, think! What would Roman do? I can’t believe I just asked myself that. Uh, trees! Bears can’t climb trees, right? Virgil leapt onto the nearest tree and scrambled up the trunk as best he could. Which is to say, not very well. Still, it was enough to confuse the bear, which bought him a little extra time to climb. The bear stood on its hind legs and started climbing after him. “Oh, come on!” Virgil cried, inching out onto a sturdy looking branch. The bear, barely needing to get off the ground to reach Virgil, grabbed his hood in its mouth and tugged. Virgil clung tighter to the branch. The bear kept tugging and Virgil could hear wood splintering. “Oh God oh God oh God this is it. This is how I go.” The branch broke with a sharp crack, leaving him dangling from the bear’s mouth. He released the branch and felt around his belt for his dagger. Anxious fingers slipped over the scabbard. Eventually, he freed it and started swinging wildly until the blade found purchase. He opened his eyes and surveyed his damage. The dagger caught on the bear’s thick pelt as if it were a stick. The bear whined a little but was otherwise unharmed. It nudged the blade away from where it struck, stood on two legs, and released Virgil’s hood. Virgil fully expected to hit the hard ground. He had seen it coming. But he didn’t even make it down past the bear’s legs. The bear was … holding him. Like a baby. And nuzzling him with a big, wet nose, making contented vocalizations. Was it … loving on him? No fall. No get hurt. Virgil’s eyes widened. “Y-you’re telepathic?” The bear licked his cheek gently and looked into his eyes. I talk you only way I know. I keep you safe. The bear started walking back up the mountain, still carrying Virgil in his arms. “What are you?” Virgil asked. Pattington, came the bear’s reply. “Where are you taking me?” asked Virgil. Burrow. I keep you safe. I love like own cub. All too soon, the two were in a clearing off the side of the path. At least, it used to be a clearing. There had to be hundreds of birdhouses in the trees and little bunny burrows dotting the cliffs. Deer, squirrels, and rabbits scampered freely in the clearing without worrying that the bear— Pattington— would hurt them. He lowered Virgil gently to the ground. You play other cubs. I get dinner, said Pattington with one last nuzzle against Virgil. He sank back onto four paws and roamed toward the edge of the clearing. Virgil was so struck by this odd behavior that he almost let him go. “Wait!” he called, running after him. Pattington looked back. “Um, I can’t stay. I’m kind of looking for something. Or uh, someone. It’s a little hard to tell.” The bear stopped. Cub stay. Cub safe here. He put a gentle paw against Virgil’s chest and disappeared into the forest. Virgil stood there for a moment. Was this bear trying to adopt him? He did not have time for this, not with a giant raging orb to be found! Frantically, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the timer Logan gave him. 3:10:48. There was still the greater part of three hours, but that meant nothing. If Virgil let himself go along with what this bear wanted, then Patton would never be able to come back. Now seemed like as good a time as any to get the heck away from here. Virgil clambered through the small bit of forest between him and the path. He started walking up through where the orb had clearly razed. It didn’t take long to find its destination. A giant indentation in the mountain gave its secrets away. That much, at least, Virgil expected. What he didn’t expect was to find a slightly smaller bear shaped depression nested in the larger one. On the ground beneath them lay huge paw prints that faded as they got closer to the burrow. Wait. That bear. He had blue fur. And was very snuggly. And very overprotective. And had a pun-filled name. “Patton?” As if summoned by hearing his true name, Pattington appeared behind Virgil. Cub, why wander from burrow? Virgil could hardly believe it. Patton was here the whole time! “Pat … I was looking for you,” Virgil said, happy tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Why cub cry? Pattington not go far, Pattington said, approaching Virgil. Virgil closed the gap between them and clung to Patton’s neck, sobbing into his soft fur. “I was so scared … I thought I’d never find you after y-you died in my arms … But now I can bring you back!” Virgil cried. Me no go. You stay. Let me love you forever. The bear sat back and hugged Virgil to his chest. Virgil pushed back a little, just enough to look into Pattington’s eyes. “But all of that can happen when you’re you again! There’s no reason why it can’t! Please, you have to come with me!” Virgil not like my affection in Patton-form. Pattington different, Pattington keened mournfully. Very few things caught Virgil off guard, but boy, if this didn’t completely knock him to the ground. “What are you talking about?” asked Virgil a little frantically. Pattington put his forehead against Virgil’s. Frenzied images flashed before his eyes. He saw himself through Patton’s eyes. They both were in their old clothes. They had just finished watching a movie or something and sat talking in Virgil’s room. It was getting close to the end of their visit. Patton went in for a hug and Virgil backed off. “Woah, what are you doing?” past Virgil asked. “Oh, I um, I thought that since we’ve been getting so close …” Patton’s voice trailing off. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!” “No no, it’s fine, just uh … warn me first,” past Virgil replied. He opened his arms a little, and Patton took that opening. And goodness, Virgil could feel his satisfaction. The images shifted into a later instance. Patton was having a rough day. Despite it, he still made time to go to Virgil’s room for their weekly get-together. Roman and Logan had apparently been arguing or snooping or something; that part Virgil couldn’t tell. The two munched on warm cookies and milk while some Disney movie played on Virgil’s TV. Patton leaned against Virgil as the movie played. Virgil just sat there. All of the sudden, Virgil began shuddering against Patton. He looked to Virgil, who appeared to be hyperventilating. Patton sat back up. “Virgil?” he asked. “Are you okay?” Virgil looked at him and started calming down. “Y-yeah, I’m fine,” he shakily replied. “Kinda glad to be able to move again. This might be too much stimulation for one night.” “Oh,” he softly said. And goodness, Virgil could feel the pain in Patton’s chest. Virgil was snapped back to the mountainous forest, those memories still searing in his skull. Pattington softly whined in front of him. Pattington too much. Too much for Virgil to bear. So that’s what it was. “Pat, I … you’ve got it all wrong,” Virgil started. “Sure, you can be very … touchy. Sometimes a little too much for me to understand. But you have to understand that I don’t think you’re too much. A Patton hug is one of the best things to have right after a panic attack or when I’m down! Those casual little touches help to ground me. It just startled me when you went for it right away that first time. And that panic attack that you saw … I wasn’t overstimulated because of you. “We were watching Cinderella that night. It got me thinking that maybe we had missed our chance to fix things with our ex, and we would never find love again. If anything, your presence there helped me get my thoughts back under control.” Virgil held Pattington’s paw in his hands. “So please … Please come back with me. I … I want Patton back. I need Patton back.” Pattington’s eyes shone with fresh tears. With one last nuzzle, Pattington said, Thank you. I love you, Virgil, and morphed back into a tiny blue sphere. Virgil got the jar from his belt, very gently enclosing the thought within it. “I love you too, Dad.”
With the football back, and the big fight at the weekend there’s never been a better time to start Match Betting
I decided to write this when I noticed almost every one of my friends was signing up to book makers in order to have a punt on the McGregor Mayweather fight this weekend. If you’re thinking about doing this, you should know there’s another way to get money off of the bookie. If you’ve never heard of Match Betting at all, then check the guide I wrote earlier which covers the basics & terminology used but the TLDR is that Match betting works by playing bookies against each other and claiming their sign up offers for yourself. It’s legal, tax free, risk free & quite fun. So if you’re interested, can read & follow instructions then check out these sites: Profit Accumulator | Non Profit Accumulator is the oldest and largest match betting community out there, with over 20,000 members on its private forum. Their guides are very simple to follow, with text guides, video guides and a list of offers for first time match betters to sign up to. The Profit Accumulator team are also the only match betting site which has a dedicated customer support line. Profit Accumulator have also developed a lot of tools over the past year or so, including Oddsmatching, which find you the right games to maximise your profit, the match catcher which is used betting on the horses, The Acca catcher which is for people who’ve been doing this for years and now use accumulators to make most of their profit, a profit tracker. More recently they’ve created the Early Pay out calculator the Offers Calendar and the Match Betting Diary Cost:FREE TRIAL! which will earn you £45 and then £17.99 after that
Odds Monkey | Non OddsMonkey used to be my favourite sites until Profit Accumulator pulled slightly ahead of them. They’re very user friendly & focus more on newbies to the game. They’re the original creator of the oddsmatcher, which finds the perfect bets for you to make maximum profit. Once again they offer written & video tutorials for people of all abilities and experience. As well as a huge community to offer you support. Odds Monkey is the only site where you can get 1 on 1 training by one of their seasoned professionals, simply pick your time slow and you can talk to someone who’s been match betting for years. OddsMonkey proably offer more tools than any other sites, including: OddsMatcher, Racing Matcher, Each way matcher, Acca matcher, Acca finder, dutch search, tennis matcher and more. Cost:FREE TRIAL! which will earn you £45 and then £15.00 after that
Heads&Heads | Non Head&Heads is relative new comer to the game, founded in 2016 it is run by one man, however that one man is some type of match betting machine sent from the future to help us get back at the bookies, it seems to update with reloads and new offers quicker than the two sites above who have large teams. Although the most expensive subscription, at £3 more than Profit Accumulator their free trial is the best, letting you earn up to £200 and their weekly reload emails are simply the best there is. Their dashboard is clean, cut and simple making it very clear how much you’ve earned and where. They also have the oddchecker, a tracking table of every bet you’ve made, which is directly linked to their bet form. In my opinion heads&heads is the best site for more experienced match betting users. Cost:FREE TRIAL! which will earn you up to £200 and then £20.00 after that
Odds Watchdog | Non Odds watchdog is the newest and least established of all of the sites I’ve listed, their main focus is on live training & support for their members. As such they offer individual and group coaching via live chat They offer most of the tools listed above and like to focus on quality of offers rather than quantity, so you might find they don’t have as many as the other sites. Cost:FREE TRIAL! which will earn you up to £25 and then £25.00 after that
With the football back, and the big fight at the weekend there’s never been a better time to start Match Betting
I decided to write this when I noticed almost every one of my friends was signing up to book makers in order to have a punt on the McGregor Mayweather fight this weekend. If you’re thinking about doing this, you should know there’s another way to get money off of the bookie. If you’ve never heard of Match Betting at all, then check the guide I wrote earlier which covers the basics & terminology used but the TLDR is that Match betting works by playing bookies against each other and claiming their sign up offers for yourself. It’s legal, tax free, risk free & quite fun. So if you’re interested, can read & follow instructions then check out these sites: Profit Accumulator | Non Profit Accumulator is the oldest and largest match betting community out there, with over 20,000 members on its private forum. Their guides are very simple to follow, with text guides, video guides and a list of offers for first time match betters to sign up to. The Profit Accumulator team are also the only match betting site which has a dedicated customer support line. Profit Accumulator have also developed a lot of tools over the past year or so, including Oddsmatching, which find you the right games to maximise your profit, the match catcher which is used betting on the horses, The Acca catcher which is for people who’ve been doing this for years and now use accumulators to make most of their profit, a profit tracker. More recently they’ve created the Early Pay out calculator the Offers Calendar and the Match Betting Diary Cost:FREE TRIAL! which will earn you £45 and then £17.99 after that
Odds Monkey | Non OddsMonkey used to be my favourite sites until Profit Accumulator pulled slightly ahead of them. They’re very user friendly & focus more on newbies to the game. They’re the original creator of the oddsmatcher, which finds the perfect bets for you to make maximum profit. Once again they offer written & video tutorials for people of all abilities and experience. As well as a huge community to offer you support. Odds Monkey is the only site where you can get 1 on 1 training by one of their seasoned professionals, simply pick your time slow and you can talk to someone who’s been match betting for years. OddsMonkey proably offer more tools than any other sites, including: OddsMatcher, Racing Matcher, Each way matcher, Acca matcher, Acca finder, dutch search, tennis matcher and more. Cost:FREE TRIAL! which will earn you £45 and then £15.00 after that
Heads&Heads | Non Head&Heads is relative new comer to the game, founded in 2016 it is run by one man, however that one man is some type of match betting machine sent from the future to help us get back at the bookies, it seems to update with reloads and new offers quicker than the two sites above who have large teams. Although the most expensive subscription, at £3 more than Profit Accumulator their free trial is the best, letting you earn up to £200 and their weekly reload emails are simply the best there is. Their dashboard is clean, cut and simple making it very clear how much you’ve earned and where. They also have the oddchecker, a tracking table of every bet you’ve made, which is directly linked to their bet form. In my opinion heads&heads is the best site for more experienced match betting users. Cost:FREE TRIAL! which will earn you up to £200 and then £20.00 after that
Odds Watchdog | Non Odds watchdog is the newest and least established of all of the sites I’ve listed, their main focus is on live training & support for their members. As such they offer individual and group coaching via live chat They offer most of the tools listed above and like to focus on quality of offers rather than quantity, so you might find they don’t have as many as the other sites. Cost:FREE TRIAL! which will earn you up to £25 and then £25.00 after that
Horse Racing – Non Runners; PRICING; MORE. Meet the Team; Support; FAQ; Affiliate Programme; Refer a Friend; Betting Calculators; Make Money Online Hub; BLOG ; Calculators » Accumulator Betting Calculator. Accumulator Betting Calculator. Accumulator Betting Calculator. Unit Stake: Type: Odds Format: Each Way: Yes No # Selection. Odds Place Term Result Rule 4 ; 1 / $ Tied position: Places Choose your each-way terms with the odds calculator – these vary based on the number of runners and the type of race. As you may have already realised, such tools offer clear benefits to horse racing fans whether they are planning for future races or even checking what their final winnings will be after placing several bets. The ability to input information on a combination of bets is a particular benefit, as it ensures you do not get a headache while attempting to consider the potential The accumulator calculator allows you to quickly work out your potential profits on your 2+ fold bets. After entering your stake, bet type and odds of each selection, the calculator will do the hard work for you, and compute how much you could win on a successful bet. Why use an accumulator calculator? Accumulator Calculator to work out your bet returns on a football Accumulator, horse Racing Bets and any sport where you can get odds on! The Accumulator Calculator is totally free to use. Now you can work out how much you have won, or might win simply by using our win and each way free acca calculator. You can choose from 4 selections up to 10 using this calculator. 10 selections is a lot but Use the Accumulator return calculator to work out your winnings online for all sports. Free, easy to use and mobile friendly bet calculator. What are the advantages of using the Accumulator Bet Calculator? Using an Accumulator Bet calculator allows you to instantly and accurately work out your returns on the bet you are thinking about placing. On which sports can I place an Accumulator Bet? Football and horse racing are the most popular sports for accumulator betting but it can Horse racing is a completely different beast though – because favourites only tend to win every now and again punters don’t always choose them. You can therefore get away with choosing higher odds on horse racing winner markets more often as it doesn’t look suspicious to do that. Obviously don’t go mad choosing horses with odds of 20.0 The Free Bet Calculator is the most advanced online sports bet calculator, allowing you to calculate the stake and profit for an extensive range of bets. All of the most popular bet types are supported, including Lucky 15, Single, Double, Accumulator, Patent and Round Robin, along with more specialised bets such as Alphabet, Magnificent 7, Union Jack, and the infamous Bookies Nightmare! Free Bet Calculator | Odds Calculator Use our free bet calculator to work out exactly how much profit you stand to win from your selections. Check potential winnings on a single, accumulator, lucky 15 or any other type of bet. Share this. williamhill. Up to £30 in free bets Sign up to William Hill using promo code H30, bet £10 and get 3 x £10 free bets. 18+. Play safe. New customers using The Accumulator Bet Calculator allows you to calculate the stake, return and profit for Accumulators containing up to 20 selections, including perms of smaller Folds if required, with the same comprehensive range of options available to the Free Bet Calculator.
Horse Racing Calculator App - Best Horse Betting Odds ...
http://45blog.com/horseracingcalculator - This is the best horse racing calculator that gives accurate wager amount using your inputs. Formula revealed to ma... Trackgabe explains what odds are and what they mean. OddsMonkey - http://oddsmonkey.org.ukA video showing a guaranteed profit that I made on an Each Way bet on a horse, found using the Eachway matcher tool in O... The following are the apps, resources and questions for this activity:Question: "Brandy Snap' is running in the 3.00pm race in York. A bookmaker is offering... Visit http://ilectureonline.com for more math and science lectures!In this video I will calculate the odds on, and odds against in horse racing.Next video in... http://review4u.info/jj Horse Racing Calculator App helps you be successful with horse betting odds so you can have bigger payouts, Horse Racing Calculat...
