Odds and Sods

I am not a betting man and indeed I find the everyday intrusion of blatant gambling or other forms of chance and luck being masqueraded as a fun hobby or harmless pastime very annoying and not a little bit sad.

I can imagine the attraction of the portrayal of a poker game as sexy and sociable to some poor sop sat in his pants, alone in his room and stubbing the keys on his laptop or smart phone desperately trying to get some of that for himself.

The flip side of the coin is however a fascination, bordering on obsession, that I have with the mechanics of probability that a specific event or phenomena may occur.

For example, and in spite of the Lynx Astronaut challenge to compete for a seat on a souped up outer orbit space bus, the quoted odds of making it into such a selective and elite group is 13,200,000 to 1. If part of the qualifying criteria is for your application to be submitted with vouchers attached to said product deodorant sprays I would probably say that the expenditure may not be worth it in that it would not increase your chances of edging out another potential candidate.

I take some comfort, being a bit of an out-doorsey type person that the chances of being struck by lightning are quoted at 2,320,000 to 1. On this basis of low risk I do not really have to wear my wellington boots every time I venture out although I did panic during a heavy rainstorm when I realised that my best  pair, inherited from my late Father in Law has steel toe caps. I expect that these would, in the event of a strike, self eject clear of my illuminated and crackling torso giving me a belated earthing or elated berthing, whatever.

In the course of our everyday lives we unknowingly put ourselves in potentially hazardous situations but it does not warrant too much concern because otherwise we would go nowhere and achieve nothing.

The working day does introduce some immediate risks. I am led to believe that I run the possibility of a shaving injury once in every 6585 shaves. Pondering this thought just the other morning caused me to loose concentration in that critical area of facial recess just between the lower lip and one of my chins, the highest one. The resultant minor knick but major blood loss was quite dramatic and I drove the first part of the route to work with dampened pieces of toilet tissue affixed giving me a stark image of how stupid I would look with a goatee beard at my age and with my moon-child facial characteristics.

An accident and injury with a chain saw is on shortened odds, apparently, of 4464 to 1 and for that reason I leave mine in the garage and wait for my friends and neighbours to offer to cut back the thick forested boundaries that surround my modest semi detached home. Visitors, penetrating the deep, dark vegetation seem a bit disappointed to find just a house rather than an enchanted castle in the concealed clearing.

I do not play golf but if I did I would probably never have the opportunity to brag about a hole in one as this is at 5000 to 1. Other sports in which I was once a serious competitor are now undertaken for basic health benefits which means a valid excuse not to break sweat, become out of breathe or purchase the correct clothing and equipment. Case in point, try running around the housing estate in steel toe capped welly boots.

I, like many, was inspired to exercise following the London Games but am totally realistic about not being ready for Rio in 2016. Let's face it, the odds of actually winning a medal at 662,000 to 1 lead me to heartily encourage the other 661,999 people with more motivation and aspirations to get on with whatever they are doing. I am quite happy just to spectate and give typically restrained British style encouragement. "Get in there, etc".

I am not too phased by a 1 in 88,000 probability of dating a Supermodel. My wife, after all, is a 1 in a million so no competition there.

I drive a lot of miles in a week, mostly on familiar local roads, and so am fortunate not to rely on public transportation of any kind. The odds of being killed on a 5-mile bus trip are 500,000,000 to 1 but against this is the sobering prospect of running the risk of a 77 to 1 chance of being injured by transport in general.  I do not fly much apart from heading for overseas holiday destinations and statistically taking a plane remains one of the safest forms of transport. So you would think, but in the process of boarding your next flight try to get a glance at the pilot for any signs of incoherence, clumsiness or fatigue because the odds of getting a drunk one are quite shocking at 117 to 1.

Statistics and odds are interesting in themselves but can be manipulated and exploited to advantage. It is now a bit of a family joke that when I am asked when a particular movie, album or event took place and this includes my casual participation in the general knowledge round of TV's Mastermind I always say 1979. I have carefully calculated that sticking to this as an informed guess does not betray my ignorance or stupidity in that, working from the Birth of Jesus, I am running only a 1 in 2013 chance of being wholly wrong. Apparently that is just a bit better odds than fatally slipping in the bath or shower and I would take that any and everyday.