On a dark evening in 1994 a stranger turned up on our doorstep.
Our club has decided since then not to allow play under the Martingale system, we only use flat stakes. In the original days of the famous Edinburgh club that meant strictly one shilling per person, by now it is normally a pound. In those days though, all bets were on and there would always be someone to take it.
That someone was Billy Tuckett, a member for most of the 1990s but we have lost contact with him now. He was known to take pretty well any bet but this one did seem particularly attractive.
"I can guarantee I will win a pound from you," said the stranger, hands in pockets. He was in his mid to late twenties, wearing worn jeans and a little avant garde for those days a grey hoodie. We all knew what he was going to do. Simply play one game for a pound and double stakes if he lost.
"Eventually I will win then I get all my money back plus a pound."
Billy fished a pound from his pocket and flicked it high in the air. It whistled as it span, an effortless thunderball. Instead of letting it hit the floor he caught it and we were expecting a handed declaration but instead he just slipped it back into his pocket. Was it a head or was it a tail? He just left it hanging.
"Let's see your pound."
The stranger took a pound from a bundle of coins his pocket. It was clear he had come equipped. Probably a wallet full too just in case. Setting it firmly on the table he looked at Billy who matched it. "Go ahead."
Billy picked the club coin from the captain who acted as spotter and the two players checked and examined it. He tossed and the man called heads. It landed cleanly on the mat. A tail. Billy placed the two pound coins one on top of the other on his side of the table. The man shrugging took a pair of coins out laying them side by side.Billy gave the club coin to the man. "In your own time." He tossed, a slightly awkward throw which just landed on the mat. Billy called a tail and it was. Four pounds on Billy's side.
Everyone expected the man to get the next throw and it would be over. He called a head again but it was a tail too. No good. Another eight pounds and he did not look worried at all. Billy wondered how high he would go before stopping. But the rest of us knew the answer to that. He was determined to be proved right and nothing would stop him.
Three throws later and he had his wallet out. Sixty-four pounds. A lot to win his pound back. But there was worse to come and it was nearly time to adjourn to the Nempnett Arms. So after the toss we all trooped out and ten minutes later all in beery conversation turned back to the game.
Having lost the final toss at the clubhouse it was a hundred and twenty-eight and it was clear he only had enough for a couple more goes. So there was tension in the air. The few pub regulars watched intently and Hugo Smythe who as an honorary member had been allowed to join us at the pub muttered something about Edinburgh rules. Any way he lost and he lost again. Nothing to be done.
"So that's it " said Billy. "Can't go any more."
"Why not," said the young man getting his chequebook out. "I've plenty more where that came from. Is your promise not good?"
"My promise is as good as your money," said Billy. "Do what you like."
By the time the betting got to sixty-five thousand pounds Billy was doubting the credit of the bank account but the man took out a statement and they played one more game. He lost.
"You finished?" Billy asked.
The man looked nervous. "Can't finish now."
"But you have no more money." We were all sure anyway he would just run away leaving quick instructions to the bank to cancel the cheques.
"I have a house in Cheddar. That'll do."
Billy looked at the secretary. Looked at the rest of us. Looked at Hugo Smythe who muttered something about Edinburgh rules. Looked at the landlord who turned away and started cleaning some glasses. He shrugged. "Your bet's good as long as your money's good. Come back tomorrow."
We managed to arrange with the landlord for safekeeping overnight. Like me I am sure the others had difficulty sleeping let alone carrying out our normal working day. I worked in those days as an accounts clerk and twice caught myself entering ten pence as ten pounds. The long day dragged on but eventually it approached seven thirty and we were all gathered for the grand finale.
The coins and banknotes and the various cheques piled up on one side of the darts area where we have since time immemorial set our table on club nights. A certificate of guarantee from the bank sat on top. In the name of Jacob Stenning, the first time we had established his identity. On the other side the deeds of his house. We didn't even know if he had a wife and family living there. We never found out.
More locals were in the Nempnett Arms than we had ever seen. It was raining outside and the landlord was busily serving drinks and had even laid on a little food. There was a hush of expectation as the players limbered up. It was Billy's toss. The Secretary handed him the coin and once again they both examined it. Jacob nodded and Billy spun it high into the air. The call was Heads.
It his fairly onto the mat. No one dared look. But Jacob was down there immediately. He flung his arms into the air. We looked down. It was a head.
"I told you I could do it. This way is invincible." Gathering up the money and the cheques and the deeds to the house he was triumphant. "Even the best players in the country cannot survive this tactic."
He left the pub with his money and his promises and his pound in profit and luckily there are not vagabonds in the area as they would have quickly had him done over. Billy was a pound down after all the excitement but not worried, as he said he was not sure what he would have done with someone else's house in a far off town and whether he might have had to evict a family. And the pub had more customers than at any time before or since.
We had an emergency meeting the next week and the arguments flew back and forth as they had done every time the old question reared its head, should people be free to set their own bets or should they be constrained for their own good. In the end Edinburgh won the day and the bet was set at fifty pence. It has since been raised to a pound but Martingale has gone into the history books and Billy continued in his job on the farm till he moved away leaving only a plaque on the pub wall as a memory of that strange event.