Steve Palmer: unashamedly shout it from the rooftops - betting is ruddy great fun

The betting world lost another immense character on Wednesday when Barry Dennis died at the age of 83 – the legendary bookmaker having enjoyed a long life as a well-known figure at British horse racing tracks.

If you watch the 1999 documentary Bookies Never Lose, which can be found on YouTube, you see Barry in full flow. He clearly relished action-packed days, attacking from all angles, having little time for sleep or idleness.

The fact that Barry had such longevity, despite admittedly existing on a diet of steak, eggs and scotch in his early years, shows, in my opinion, that being involved in the cut and thrust of the betting jungle can be good for you. Barry loved the buzz and excitement of bookmaking and lived to a grand old age to tell the tale of his adventures.

How often do you hear somebody say "I nearly died of boredom!" when they are pouring scorn on a film they disliked or a goalless football match or something. Well, I think it is possible for boredom to literally speed up the ageing process, allowing the brain to stagnate through a lack of stimulation. Betting, increasingly becoming second only to murder in the 'bad press' stakes of this once great nation, can keep a mind active and enlivened.

My personal excitement levels have been sky-high this week. I backed Josh 'Rocky' Rock at 33-1 to win the Players Championship darts event in Wigan on Wednesday and he won six matches to get to the final, before squandering six darts for the title. Most of those match darts lodged just the wrong side of the wire – the gap between success and failure was approximately half a nanometre.

A far less talented arrowsmith who looks a lot like Sloth from The Goonies then stepped up to take advantage of Rock's blunders to secure an 8-7 victory and a first PDC Tour title. My wager failed in one way, but was a winner in terms of providing a whole day of tremendous tungsten-tickling titillation.

The following morning another treat came when I scrolled up from the bottom of the Andalucia Masters golf leaderboard to find that two players I had backed – Rasmus Hojgaard and Tom McKibbin – were tied for the lead. Punting had again sent a frisson of zeal through my 46-year-old bones. You can't put a price on that, if you'll pardon the pun.

That afternoon, I backed a horse called Woodland Park in the 3.07pm at Carlisle, before witnessing an incredible spectacle, watching some majestic animals galloping along soft ground, tails wagging with zest under Cumbrian cloud.

Woodland Park strained every sinew in a bid to get his nose in front at the line, but was repelled by a gutsy gelding called I Wish You. As with Rock in the darts, I was narrowly defeated in financial terms, but I had spent a truly thrilling few minutes beholding frolicking thoroughbreds cover two miles and one furlong.

I do not think there are many things in life – and possibly there is nothing – more exciting than sports betting. And I am not going to apologise for saying that. Throughout all the seemingly never-ending wranglings and policy debates over recent years with regards to affordability checks, the Gambling Commission's remit, regulations on the betting industry, the possibility of an impending hike in gambling tax, etc, etc, etc, hardly anybody in positions of power has been prepared to say the following.

Betting on sport is so entertaining! Betting on sport is fantastic fun! People love gambling – because it is so ruddy exciting! Gosh, there it is – I've only gone and said it. Am I in trouble? Have I been a naughty boy? Am I going to be dragged in front of a Select Committee to have my botty smacked?

Have I now got to write another 10,000 words explaining the potential dangers of betting? As one of the vast majority of punters who bet within their means, have I got to conceal my passion for this hobby in case I encourage the tiny percentage of people who make betting a problem for themselves?

While I'm at it, would you like another 10,000 words on how the Grand National fences are too high for the poor little horseys to jump? And another 10,000 about how those foam-padded tickling sticks the jockeys use are so cruel?

I am sick and tired of the apologetic approach expected of folk who love gambling and horse racing. Both are great British and Irish institutions. I know it has become fashionable among many of my compatriots to hate our country and criticise everything it's ever done, but I also know there are millions of people like me who thoroughly enjoy betting, are proud of the traditions of Britain and Ireland, and are done with begging forgiveness from naysayers who neither like or understand punting and racing.

Long live the betting game. Long live horse racing. Pray that both, obviously interlinked, do not suffer unbearable pressure from short-sighted politicians in the forthcoming Autumn Budget.

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