Having recently moved house, I am now residing slap-bang in the middle of central London, only moments away from a gambling den. Since seeing Casino Royale, I have always longed to play the tables with a sugar daddy to meet my expensive needs. Alas, I have given up sugar, so am forced to depend on my own dubious methods of gaining a spectacular win.

Many of my friends are poker wizards but — annoyingly — it doesn’t seem to have rubbed off on me. Should I get a good hand, I really can’t contain my delight and hop from foot to foot with gleeful anticipation, thereby alerting everyone to my good fortune. It shames me to admit that, in the absence of chums to accompany me, and when there’s not much on the telly, I nip to the casino alone, secure in the knowledge that luck will indeed be a lady. Casinos are not generally known to be dangerous places, but this endeavour has resulted in several Middle Eastern gentlemen mistaking me for a lady of the night. While I feign horrified outrage at such errors, secretly, I am rather thrilled that, in some quarters, my jogging bottoms are found to be alluring. One particular gentleman, whom I shall call Mehmet, asked me in hushed tones if we could do business and what the price would be. I coolly replied that money didn’t interest me, but if he could see his way to sparing a couple of internal organs, I might reconsider. To his credit, he laughed long and hard and has since given me some invaluable poker tips. On joining my table, he embarrasses me by bellowing at the top of his Omar Sharif voice: “Maria, here’s my lighter. Why don’t you just burn your money and save time.” Which, of course, lets everyone know I’m rubbish.

Knowing, as I do, my ludicrously addictive nature, it’s essential to get a grip on this new and potentially damaging pastime and keep it in check. Casinos are fascinating, in that you can witness — nay, experience — extreme elation and devastating despair in the space of 10 minutes. Thus far, I have been able to tear myself away when rewarded with freshly minted moolah, and am wisely limiting my visits. The search continues for that hard-to-come-by rush of endorphins, and gambling supplies it by the bucket-load. It’s important to remember that casinos rarely go broke. Should you see my calling card in a telephone box near you, please send me your unwanted organs.