“I’m writing this book you see.” said the friendly ginger-haired cab driver.

All of you people with your pre-conceived notions of ginger hair equalling fiery temper are clearly wrong, they can be kind and happy too. If a little pale for my taste. Almost sickly in fact.

“Really? Tell me about it.” I enquire enthusiastically. It is not everyday you get to meet a book-writing cab driver.

Unlike JonnyB I have never minded a bit of small talk. It helps to pass the time, and generally speaking, I can talk to anyone about anything. And I quite often do just that.

This is how I found myself listening to a cabbie talk about a book he’s written, which is all about winning the lottery.

“So you’ve actually won the lottery then?”

“Well, not the big one, no, but I won a few hundred pounds in 2001, and I obviously get the odd tenner every now and again.”

This did not strike me as the ideal set of qualifications for writing a book about winning the lottery. It would be like me writing a book on winning the Premier League, or Tony Blair on running Popular Military Incursions. I let it pass.

“Oh. Right. I wondered why the cab was a Vectra and not a Rolls Royce!”

“What people don’t understand you see is that there is a system to it. You can maximise your potential winnings quite easily.” he continued, completely missing my very funny automotive based joke.

“I see.” I mumbled in fake interest at the humourless cabbie.

“Plus there are literally millions in unclaimed prizes, did you know that?”

“Yes, I did know that actually.” I stated, impressing him instantly with my general knowledge.

He looked at me crestfallen, and for just the briefest of moments, I felt a pang of guilt for giving him a glimpse of my extraordinary general knowledge prowess. He was not down for long though, and the best was clearly yet to come.

“Did you know that they changed the rules as well?”

“No I didn’t.”

“Oh yes! It used to be that three numbers guaranteed you a tenner, but so many people were winning that they now take the tenners out of the prize fund. Do you know what this means?”

“Not really, no.”

“It means that if 6 very popular numbers come out, then the number of £10 wins could mean that there is nothing left for the jackpot. You could win nothing. For six numbers. How gutted would you be?”

“Probably very gutted I’d imagine, you know, if I played the lottery, which I don’t. So what are you going to call this book?”

“It’s a work in progress, but I’m erring on the side of “How to win the Lottery“, what do you think?”

“Not bad, but how can you be sure people will know what it’s about?” I offer, deciding my automotive joke was a little bit too in-his-face. Anyway, sarcasm is always big and clever. Like Raymond, everyone loves sarcasm.

“Good point”, he began, missing the second brilliant joke of our brief conversation. “After all, it’s about my system for winning, and my system works. When I win, I’ll win it big!”

“But you haven’t actually won big yet?”

“Well, no. Not yet.”

This has confirmed my opinion that the Lottery is merely a tax on stupid people and those without a rudimentary understanding of mathematics or probability theory. Then again, the Lottery punters may not be quite as stupid as the people who would be willing to buy a book about how to win the lottery written by a man who hasn’t actually won the lottery.

I left the Vectra-driving cabbie to his dreams of lottery winnings, and pray I don’t see his smiling sickly ginger face on the front of The Sun anytime soon.