From a weekend that offered so much promise, I ended up losing a monumental bet in the world’s toughest sporting arena, won myself a highly dubious parking ticket and got stung at the recycling tip…. it was a scandal of epic proportions. I was the victim of a global conspiracy, clearly masterminded by numerous government agencies in a feat of extraordinary international espionage.

It all began on a humble Saturday morning.

I’ve always been an early bird but the spring and summer is a new level. As the birds begin their morning chorus, I mock their tardiness.

Perched on the sofa, grasping a fresh brew while the rest of the world sleeps, it is the best time to get some work done… I’m wiped out by 9pm every night but that’s another story.

The weekend, however, brings an extra sporting treat.

As a young man, I joined the band of Brits heading to Australia for a year of backpacking, immense fun, apart from feeling pangs of sporting homesickness. The year was 1999 and our friends Down Under had limited football interest.

Something needed to fill the void, so along came Rugby League and the brilliant Aussie Rules Football.

It is one of the great ironies in life, the one game that includes the word ‘rules’ in its title actually has very limited rules, or certainly none that actually make a difference.

You can’t run with ball in hand without bouncing it but you can happily drop an opponent on his head from a great height…. in fact, it is applauded!

Back to my Saturday morning, Australian sport on multiple channels, tea steaming and work going well, I decided to spice things up with a little £5 bet on the array of fixtures being played on this day of infamy.

Fast forward a few hours, I checked the bet again and excitement grew exponentially. My first five fixtures had won, the penultimate match from a seven-game acca was going well and the last was an apparent banker.

£5 was about to turn into £384! Result!

Match six was completed with victory, the deciding rugby game was tied at 12-12 at half-time, surely the imperious Melbourne Storm would do the job on Cronulla Sharks.

The cash-out option was £120. Whatever, my £384 was guaranteed. I had mentally already spent the money and then the conspiracy began.

Agent number one was dressed in a rugby league referee’s outfit, we shall call him Agent Ref. Unlike Aussie Rules, rugby is jam-packed with many rules, so many that even the biggest fans of the sport struggle to keep up.

All I knew was Agent Ref kept giving decisions against Melbourne Storm. His busy whistle cost me £384!!!!!

Still, I remained calm, it was actually only a £5 bet in the first place, so on to the next task, a very simple one that would surely cost nothing. Au contraire, this task was supposed to be an act of giving!

On the way to collecting mum for her eye appointment at the hospital, I had a bag of old DVDs from my daughter’s bedroom, perfect fodder for the charity shop down the road, an act of kindness on the way to performing a son’s duty.

It was around midday on a sunny Saturday, parking around the local precinct was chocka, but there was one bronzed space slap bang outside the charity shop.

The space was marked for ‘Goods Vehicles Only’ but, after a few internal calculations, I figured my drop-off would take no more than 48 seconds and, effectively, I was delivering goods. My little Renault was, for those 48 seconds, a ‘Goods Vehicle’.

I sauntered in, swaggered out, and then I spotted him….the Civil Enforcement Officer, Agent CEO….the second key actor in this conspiracy.

His pace quickened as he approached the car (sorry, Goods Vehicle). Agent CEO was stealthy and determined, the ticket was written before I could protest.

Mentally, my £384 loss had now increased by £35.

It was a scenario where I took the option to laugh rather than cry, not yet suspecting the CIA or Mossad could be involved.

After completing the hospital run for mum, there was one more menial task to be completed: a trip to the recycling centre, which costs nothing!

The Megane formerly known as a ‘Goods Vehicle’ was packed with largely garden rubbish, a few shards of wood from an old cupboard and the smallest bag of rubble from a struggling outside wall.

I deposited the garden goods, headed to the wood bin and then grasped my final bag of rubbish, one of those cheap bin bags that barely has the strength to carry a few tins but, such was the miniscule amount of rubble, it was sufficient for the job.

Step forward Agent Tip!

As I marched to the final giant bin at the recycling centre, Agent Tip approached. It appears a nefarious nipple of masonry had poked through my flimsy bag and Agent Tip had spotted the crime.

“Excuse me sir, rubble and masonry are chargeable at the recycling centre.”

I felt the air escape my lungs, words left my lips, this was beyond a conspiracy. £384 + £35 now had an additional charge of £2.60 for the rubble.

Admittedly, the third and final infraction was minor, the cost minimal, but coming on the back of my previous convictions, I was a broken man!

It is only now, a few days later, that I’ve realised I’m the victim of a conspiracy. Agent Ref, Agent CEO and Agent Tip were in cahoots to ruin my Saturday, it was the only explanation!

Either that, or gambling never wins, parking in the wrong place is dumb and cheap bin bags should be banned from society.