I’VE never been a lucky person. So it’s probably appropriate that the only bet I’ve won in years was one I desperately wanted to lose.

I was sure at the start of last season Wycombe Wanderers would do down. I hate to say it, but I thought they were very weak and would have little chance in League One.

However, sports editor Dave Peters assured me I was being unduly pessimistic and that they would easily stay up.

I hoped he was right, but bet him a cup of 20p coffee from the office machine that he was wrong and they would be relegated.

For the rest of the season, we taunted each other over this wager, with him consistently telling me they would survive.

I retorted each week after every loss by telling him he might as well cut his losses and buy me the coffee there and then.

But Dave remained defiant and I desperately hoped he was right.

When Gary Waddock became boss, I cheered up and thought I’d lose the bet because he drastically improved the style of play. Waddock did a pretty good job, but didn’t keep them up – and sadly I was proved right.

What’s even sadder is that I only bet 20p.

If I had put a tenner on it, at least it would have been worth my while – and, anyway, the fates would probably have ensured they stayed up because I never win bets of any real substance.

Dave reluctantly coughed up last week and bought me a mocha, although he insisted I wear a scarf from Exeter City (his favourite team) while I slurped it down.

So now I’m a proven soccer expert, what am I going to bet on next season, I hear you cry?

From what I’ve seen of Waddock, I’d place my 20p next year on them going straight back up.

Next year’s League Two champions?

I’ll drink to that.