A programmer went to the horse races, and indulged in a spot of gambling. Fellow race watchers became increasingly intrigued as the day went on and the programmer exulted in victory on every race, heading to the book keepers to collect his winnings each time. "YES!" he would exclaim as each race ended with a win for him, his fellow punters began to think he had something going on. As the wins racked up, one of them plucked up the courage to ask "How do you keep winning mate?" the programmer looked at him with a sly smile "I have a system!" and then trotted off to the book keepers to collect his winnings once more. Eventually the day's races were over, and he had a perfect record, 6 races, 6 wins.
The next day, the regulars were surprised to see him back at the track, and even more surprised that he kept winning race after race. after half the races were done, and he was still maintaining his streak, others were sufficiently interested that they were asking to get in on his system. Unfortunately, the programmer was steadfast "I can't give this secret away... I am testing the results from my new gambling application, you can pre-order it if you like!" He would cheerily give them the details to buy his software suite, and the pre-orders started rolling in.
As time went by, and news of the programmer's success spread, the rate of pre-orders started rocketing up. People saw the programmer winning race after race, no one had ever seen him fail to cash in at the book keepers in any race since he had first appeared. The system worked, and everyone wanted in.
So it was, with much fanfare, that the programmer broke 1 million pre-orders, then 2 million. Then 3. Milestone after milestone of pre-order counts fell, and the application was eagerly awaited by the paying public, eager to hang the book-keepers out to dry, now that it seemed that the shoe was on the other foot.
With great pomp and ceremony, a release date was finally announced, pre-orders spiked as it became clear that the application's price would double on release, and the pre-order price was a special discount. the release date loomed, and still the programmer was claiming his payout race after race, without fail. Each win helped encourage the pre-orders, and the eagerly awaited system was the talk of the betting community. Everybody who was serious about wasting their money knew about the system, and they all had their pre-orders. It was going to turn the betting world on it's head, everyone knew it.
finally, the release date rolled around, and the application was released. Everyone eagerly downloaded it, and looked to get in on the success as quick as possible.
To everyone's dismay, the system would let them pick a race, and then make it's betting recommendations. The recommendations were to bet on every single horse, in every single race. In a shocking revelation, it became very clear that the developer had cashed out on every race, because he had bet on every single horse in every single race. He couldn't fail to claim a prize, even if it was significantly less than he bet in the first place. So it was that the pre-order customers were outraged.
"The system does exactly what I said, it emulates my success!" the programmer replied to his outraged customers. "I never told anyone that I was winning more than I was spending!". Following the press-conference, the programmer hopped into his shiny new Jaguar, and drove away with a roar of overpriced unnecessary engine noise. Programmer
The programmer had made a fortune from the lack of thorough investigation on the part of the betting community, and had taken all of them for as long a ride as the betting shops themselves. Even the most cynical gamblers had been taken in, having carefully measured the statistical significance of the seemingly impossibly long winning streak.
Eventually, everything boiled over. There were riots in betting shops by furious gamblers demanding their money back, but the programmer was nowhere to be found. Anger spread and innocent software houses were burned to the ground in retribution for the programmer's trickery. Software professionals were murdered in the streets. Once proud system architects were assassinated. an IED was triggered on silicon roundabout. Sir Clive Sinclair was publicly executed by vigilantes, and even the holiest of holies, the Alan Turing statue was smashed, and the replica of colossus destroyed.
In a final bid to find the programmer responsible, the outraged gamblers rounded up all software professionals that had not already been brutally murdered, and tied them to stakes above a huge pile of software manuals (each one only 1/4 of a page long, since no one writes documentation, but together they made a pyre large enough to burn hundreds), ready to burn them alive, if he did not show himself. This last ditch attempt at rooting out the cowardly programmer proved successful. HE arrived, on the back of a white horse, clad in full armour, with a mighty sword at his hip. "I have come to stop this madness" he declared, as he dismounted. and he walked to the pyre and climbed the mountain of software manuals. Without a word, he drew his sword and held it aloft "Hear me gamblers! I have led you astray, and fooled you out of your money in a foul and devious ploy, verily it has made me a wealthy gentleman, and for that I offer no apology! I am here today to do one thing, and one thing alone! I am here to utter to all of you the sacred words passed down from generation to generation in my family, from many hundreds of years ago. I am here to say these words, as my father told me the must be said, as his father told him, and his father was told before. I say unto you now, as has been foretold for many hundreds of years. The great message of our age:"
And so it was that the programmer spake, and the words he spake did fall on the attentive ear of all those around, who were shocked and amazed at their form and meaning...
"LOL THX NOOBS GOT UR MNY NOW KKTHXBYE GG LOL YOU GOT BM'D"
and with that, he stripped out of his armour, bent down, and took a huge dump on the pyre, and ran away.
The onlookers, too stunned to pursue him, just stood there in confusion, trying to comprehend the situation they now found themselves in. Then, getting a grip of themselves, they lit the software manuals, and burned all the remaining pogrammers to death. Their screams audible over the sound of the mob chanting "die programmers die!", and the smell of their charring flesh mixing with the smell of the burning turd left by the one programmer they had truly sought, and failed to apprehend.
Then, the alarm went off, and the world winked out of existence as he opened his eyes. He reached out and shut off the alarm, before turning to the camera and saying triumphantly "TURNS OUT IT WAS A DREAM.... ALL ALONG!"
with that said, M Night Shrewsbury Bypass got up, got dressed, and went out to make another terrible film where it turns out the donkey was a functioning alcoholic with racial prejudices all along.
PLOT TWISTS