Mr Z has this habit of being generally right in his political predictions and it’s annoying for two reasons: first, his hunches are always bad; second, we never benefit from them. How does it help that I knew government kite-flyers would start on about the death penalty 18 months before it happened? Did I find some way to hedge against high inflation in 2020, or Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2021? I did not.
So, when he said there will be a general election this year, not 2024 as most people believe, or January 2025, which is the last possible date and what the wonkiest think most likely, I thought I would check the odds. We were on a train, on a Sunday afternoon, and everyone was drinking rosé because that’s the law on trains, so the atmosphere was pretty convivial. “It’s 7/1,” I said. “I’m gonna put a flutter on, and then if you’re right, we can have a massive election night party, with snakes or panthers or white horses, and a covers band.”
“Jesus, how much are you putting on?” he said.
“Not that much. OK, if you’re right, we can go to the pub.”
“We would have gone to the pub anyway.”
“OK, sure.”
“We’re going to the pub tonight!”
“It sounds like you’re gambling over there,” a lady on the table opposite piped up, smilingly, like the helpful Microsoft paperclip. Then, gesturing towards her husband, she continued: “He’s a massive gambler.” Since she said this with affection rather than resentment, Mr Stranger is obviously quite skilled at it and I decided to heed him. “If they offer you a free bet, don’t take it, because they pay out in tokens, not money, and you just get roped in,” he advised. “What is it? Horses? Football?”
“Politics.”
“Eurgh,” he said, with feeling. “What about politics?”
“There will be a general election this year,” Mr Z said, with complete authority.
“No way,” said the man. “Nobody wants a general election. It’ll be 2024.”
“Well, you and six other people think that,” Mr Z replied. “I think 2023.”
“That’s really not how odds work,” said the lady stranger.
Since Mr Z, as established, is always right, you should also consider putting a bet on. If we all clubbed together for the party, we could definitely afford snakes.
Zoe Williams is a Guardian columnist
