by REBECCA SPARROW
Tom Waterhouse keeps coming into my house. I didn’t invite him. I’m sure he’s a perfectly lovely guy but I don’t want him there.
And yet, there he is. Trying to entice me to gamble.
Of course, Tom (and I feel like I can call him Tom since quite often I’m in my jammies when he turns up) … never says ‘gamble’. Filthy word ‘gamble’. No, Tom talks about ‘odds and stats’. Tom talks about me ‘having a punt!’ And he says it in a fun way with that cheeky smile! Have a punt! But you and I both know what ‘have a punt’ means. It’s code for ‘taking your money and flushing it down the toilet.’
I’m sure you’re nice, Tom. You look nice. This is not personal.
But you’re a bookie, Tom. And I don’t want you – the new clean cut, fresh face of gambling – or anyone enticing my family to gamble, in my loungeroom. In fact, you being in my loungeroom several times a week is making me angry and upset.
Gambling is the heart disease of our country. According to the Australian government website ProblemGambling.gov.au, Aussies spent more than $19 billion A YEAR on gambling. The social cost to the community of problem gambling is close to $5 billion a year. Gambling ruins lives. And Australia already has the highest rate of gambling in the world.
Tom, I hate the fact you and others in your profession are trying to normalise it into every single part of sport. I’m old fashioned. I kinda think I should be able to watch sport (or pretend to watch sport while I Google “How old was Scott Baio when he starred in Charles in Charge”) without people trying to entice me to gamble.