It had slipped off my radar until I learned that three people I know would be attending. Two had been given free tickets at a similar event some months prior. The other had booked a complementary ticket via Mr. Howard’s own website.

So here was an event with an attendence in the hundreds, at €1,200 per person, being offered for free. Say just 200 people signed up – that would be almost a quarter of a million euro down the swanee. I thought that strange. Wouldn’t you?

Where was the catch?

Three long days. From early morning to late evening. People would opt to stay in the hotel rather than travel to and from. Could Mr. Howard be getting a kickback on accommodation?

Merchandise perhaps. Would there be all manner of expensive goodies on offer? Books, CDs and DVDs.

Neither would come near softening the blow of dropping a quarter of a million.

Krishna De wrote on her blog that a previous client of hers had attended the event and immediately “signed up for the US$30,000 programme”. Krishna, with feet firmly on the ground, went on to warn “if you do not want to invest at that level, keep your credit card at home!”.

So that was it. Here kid try this. A gift. From me. For free. There now, see how good that makes you feel. And little Johnnie ends up doing horse at €500 a day.

The only difference is the drug being pushed by Mr. Howard is knowledge not heroin. But as a self-confessed knowledge junkie, I know that craving, that thirst, comes from within. Though it can be nurtured, it cannot be forced.

Some religions do force their teachings upon the masses in the guise of knowledge and enlightenment.

Take a look at Mr. Howard’s US website. What do you see? I see Jim Jones. I see the faithful with arms aloft in adoration of their saviour. Long days being preached to and little rest is one of the tools of brainwashing.

Take a look at the menu. CH Crew and Community. I read priests and followers.

Take a look at the UK website. Far more subdued. But then religion is a more subdued affair in Europe than in the US. The same message just tailored to suit the demographic.

Of the three I know, two attended. One has booked another course. At an asking price of £5,000, but for a special lower rate offered to previous attendees.

Their argument: Another outfit is running the same course and they’re not as good and they’re a lot dearer.

My argument: €100k for a car is expensive. €80k for the same is less so, but still damned dear.

Their argument: This is a masters programme.

My argument: It is not like an M.A. or M.Sc. Mr. Howard is abusing the word “masters”.

Their argument: It’s a level II course. I can go on to the highest then – a level III.

My argument: At £7,000 for level III that makes the car far too expensive.

Their argument: Once I have it under my belt I can give courses myself and make a lot of money.

My argument: A pyramid scheme. You progress from follower, to postulant, to novice, to knight or whatever, then bring more followers onboard and the cycle begins again.

I admit a bias in that I have as much faith in NPL gurus as I do SEO experts, but the whole hype and marketing strategy behind Mr. Howard’s programmes just reeks. Splashing buddy-buddy pics of Richard Branson about doesn’t convince me of anything. Even Jim Jones had followers in the upper levels of the establishment.

I grew up in an area where gambling was part of everyday life. It was never called gambling. It was doing a bet. And everyone did a bet. And nearly always on horses. Sometimes on the dogs. But never on anything else.

Old ladies would pop into the bookies after 10 o’clock mass and do a five penny cross double. As kids we would be allowed pick a horse in the big races. Not just the Grand National. The Gold Cup, The Galway Plate, The Derby, The Arc.

Fathers would do their bets on a Saturday morning and the radio would be tuned in that evening for the results. It was just something fathers did. To us it was as much part of the routine as family walks on Sundays when mothers carried coats in case it rained and fathers carried transistor radios so we could get the match.

We grew up with horses. Many of us, myself included, sat on a horse before a bicycle. Horses were part and parcel of everyday life. On meeting neighbours on those Sunday walks, the conversation would be about the weather, the horses and the GAA. In that order.

Punchestown, Cheltenham, Fairyhouse and The Thyestes marked annual occasions in the same way Christmas, Easter and Hallow’een did. Farmers would aim to get the spring corn sown before Punchestown. So-and-so didn’t die in March the previous year – It was during Cheltenham.

We loved horses. The very first picture of me as a baby was taken at Punchestown in ‘66. I was 12 when I was first allowed to go to that festival on my own. I would stand at the rails, as close as I dared, sometimes getting splattered with the muck thrown up as the horses pounded past, the ground shaking, the jockeys shouting abuse at each other and I would add my cheers to the roar of the crowd behind me in the stands.

With that love of horses came the love of doing a bet. They went hand in hand. But because we grew up with both we learned to respect them equally. To keep a tight rein of both horse and wallet. Getting to ride-out a horse or having a bet on it was a phenomenal thrill but you’d never expect to make money on either. The trainers never paid for your work and the bookies seldom did.

I will be doing a bet each day of the Cheltenham festival. Gambling if you want to call it that. I still don’t. But I have set my budget at €20 per day and will not go over it. €80 is what I can afford to lose and I expect to lose it all. If I have just €5 left at the end of the week it will be a bonus. But either way I will be enjoying four days of the very best National Hunt racing the sport has to offer. As the catholic priest, Fr. Breen, when interviewed on RTE last night put it: “Cheltenham is the Mecca”.

The funny thing is, I didn’t really miss it. Ok, there were a few whimpers when my phone beeped with new-mail alerts. And a bit of whinging when I couldn’t get the morning prices for yesterday’s Thyestes Chase. And a bit of sweet talking to be done when a client called about why I hadn’t mailed the promised estimates. And a bit of wondering about what was happening in blogland.

But overall I didn’t fret. I am not addicted to the Internet!

That just leaves caffeine, documentaries, horse racing, The Green Wing, Today FM, the dog, my mobile, newspapers, Heidi Talbot’s new album, local gossip, PC World, Guinness, the weather, stew … Fek! 1 out of millions isn’t great.