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I don’t gamble much. I’ve read up on the addiction to the dopamine rush that gamblers have, and there are a couple of people like that in my family, but whether it’s genetic or learned, the gambling itch never made me scratch. I just don’t enjoy it.

But every other advert I receive online is for gambling, despite the extent of my gambling history being a last-minute lottery ticket about once a month. Daily I’m inundated with adverts for online poker, one-armed bandits, and every other game of chance; I’m offered three free goes or the first ten pounds cash-back, and various other sugar-coated finger-traps from which, they hope, I’ll never escape. Shit, I don’t even own a credit card: never having been rich, and not wanting to become poor again, I’m careful with my cash.

And yet, the adverts for gambling continue unrelenting. They might as well advertise online Swahili-language lessons (an offer that I’d be more likely to take up). ¬†All of which tells me the much-vaunted algorithms that supposedly run the world, aren’t really up to scratch.

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