Roy 'The Boy' Brindley

Story Time

As well as his exploits at the tables, Roy ‘The Boy’ Brindley is also an acclaimed poker journalist and broadcaster. Below are some excerpts from his highly commended stories.

“There was speculation that the poor guy had suffered a heart-attack brought on by the anxiety of the big occasion. Of course, it was not the case but, trust me - if I had done something similar - an ambulance would be of no use, as I'd have launched myself from the Eiffel Tower or, worse still, attempted to cross the Champs-Elysees blindfolded!”

“The following day I am not certain that the chap who told us: "I'd have my money on you lot in a drinking contest against a herd of camels in the desert" was trying to be complimentary or not!”

“My subsequent diary entry reads: “Why do I play this game when the pain of ugly defeat outweighs the thrill and financial gain of the occasional victory.” Enough said?”

“Today is the finest day of the year, Brighton's Rendezvous Casino is the finest in Britain and RoyThe Boy is the finest poker player to have ever picked up two hole cards!

  What a wonderful thing it is to be alive and what a wonderful place to be alive. How likeable everyone is and how sadly misunderstood the world's dictators, terrorists and mass murderers are.

  OK, so I'm laying it on a bit thick but it's funny to think that eight hours ago I was convinced that this lunatic attempt to make tournament poker pay its way for another year was doomed to humiliating disaster.

  But now I realise once again - after snagging the first European ranking tournament of 2004, a £100 Hold'em event worth just short of £5,000 - what a splendid company Ladbrokes (my dear sponsors) is.

  In fact, what a great game poker is, how attractive the Rendezvous waiting staff are, how, how, how, the list is endless…”

“For starters, there is a former football star that seems to very popular with the photographers that are crawling around like angry ants. The highlight here was the attempted clone of Pam Anderson – which had gone horribly wrong – who came sat on his knee posing for everyone in the opening minutes of play.

  The genetic experiment, sixty years in the making, was great in places but quite frightening if you accidentally looked a foot to the north!”

“Now it’s funny how TV and films affect our everyday life and how you can clearly recall and recite scenes from your favourite shows. The Green Mile is a much-loved DVD of mine. Trouble is, it seems I unavoidably let scenes from the Stephen King classic affect my game.

  You see at the start of level five a nasty looking guy with ferret-like features came to my table. I immediately took a dislike to him but had no inclination why.  We played for a full hour and then it hit me…

  Percy Wetmore! The detestable warden that walked around with John Coffey declaring “dead man walking.” Percy Wetmore, who electrocuted Dale (Eduard Delacroix) deliberately failing to wet the sponge on his head in The Green Mile.

  Unashamedly I wanted to get this guy – who could well be the actor which played the role or just a look-alike – in either case, and in reality, he was probably a model citizen (of the USA ) and had no malice in him whatsoever.   

  Of course, being an American with the ‘right to arms’ written in his countries constitution, the only similarity was probably the .45 that he keeps under his pillow.”


Now trust me, this place [Foxwoods] appears out of nowhere like a fairytale castle in the woods and the size of it is something from a storybook too. It’s simply huge. And what a dream the card room is, with a hundred tables packed to the capacity of a rush hour London tube.

  I find the registration desk after wading through the hordes of players so engrossed in their games they would fail to notice Britney Spears walking past naked.

  There I declared, to what I was about to discover was Connecticut ’s equivalent of an Essex girl, “I’d like to register for tomorrow’s tournament please.” But, whilst shuffling forms and looking in every direction apart from my own she dismissively replied: “I’m sorry sir, that’s for the top-pros only you can’t play in that.”


That’s all well and good but, when he accidentally over-dosed on sun rays, the new image was no longer like that of Eminem but of an Oompa Loompa man from the classic Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory film. Talk about red-faced!

“Returning to televised poker, have you ever thought where we would be if the game were suddenly besieged by match fixing allegations?

  You know, like those scandals that led bookmakers to refuse correct frame score bets on snooker, those that made international cricket an interesting, popular but volatile betting medium and those that saw goalkeeper Bruce Grobbelaar hurry back to South Africa after doing his bit for Southampton FC’s relegation cause.”

“It’s part and parcel of the unpredictability of the game, an imponderable, which confirms what a precarious job it is winning money regardless what edge your skill factor has over your rival’s ability.

  Further proof is complicated but, in answering the common question, “why do so called ‘good players’ complain of bad-luck and bad-beats more often than others,” there is clear reason…”

“The ladbrokespoker.com branded clothing is sure to come out of the machine without a crease and smelling like a summer meadow. Well, that’s what it promises on the packet, so it seems a shame to ruin all that effort by throwing them straight into a suitcase leaving them crumpled like a discarded piece of A4 and smelling like an out-of-date slice of Hovis.”

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