PUNTERS were hanging on John Motson's every word during his commentary for the thrilling FA Cup final between Liverpool and West Ham.

In particular, they were listening out for phrases like: "The magic of the Cup"; "Winner takes all" and "It's a little known fact...".

Generous odds were being offered by a cyber-bookie on Motty repeating these clichs word for word within the 90 minutes.

Online gambling is now so competitive (and lucrative) that new ways are constantly being thought up to tempt sports fans to place wagers.

With the simple click of a mouse you could bet on every conceivable facet of the final - from the free-kick takers to whether the Millennium Stadium's roof would be on.

At an annual FA Cup shindig at my friend's house, I witnessed first-hand both the thrill and peril of having a flutter on the net.

As the beers flowed and we predicted the outcome, our host pulled out a lap-top and offered us the chance to put our money where our mouths were via his online Paddy Power account.

Never one to shirk a challenge, I confidently placed a £1 wager on a West Ham midfielder I'd never heard of to score first, tied in with a 3-1 win for the Hammers.

Such were the ridiculous odds that for 21 glorious minutes I was in with a chance of pocketing £650. The money was already spent in my mind.

One by one, though, our long-shot wagers - designed to turn 50ps into small fortunes - came to nothing as the match progressed. It was fun while it lasted and none of us lost more than a few pounds each chasing our wildly-optimistic hunches.

Imagine our surprise then, when at the conclusion of the penalty shoot-out, our relieved host announced he had, unknown to the rest of us, bet £400 on Liverpool to win it at odds of 2-1 on.

Badly out of pocket from his initial wagers on the game, he recklessly went for broke to cover his losses.

Critics of online betting say it encourages these risks by allowing punters to keep placing bets as the match progresses - a classic way of throwing bad money after bad.

The Reds' victory meant that my friend got away with it - this time - but can ill-afford to lose what to Wayne Rooney would be loose change.

"If I had to physically hand over that amount of cash at the bookies I wouldn't have done it," he told me later.

"It's far too easy now on the internet. It doesn't feel like real money until you get your bank statement through."

Getting hooked on any form of gambling can be financially and personally devastating.

I once knew a father from my neighbourhood who became hopelessly addicted to fruit machines.

He started by slotting in the odd 20p during breaks at work, but before long his desire to win the jackpot was all-consuming. The man poured countless pay packets down the drain - and with them presents for his kids' birthdays and even sufficient food for the table.

Ordered to leave home on several occasions, his wife eventually gave him one last chance to prove he could resist the bandits.

She sent him to collect the family's weekly income support, warning that if one penny was missing he was gone for good.

Collecting the cash, he popped into the nearest arcade, deluding himself that he would make it up to them by doubling their money. Within an hour he had blown the lot, and his wife divorced him.

The last official survey on the subject defined 300,000 people in the UK as "problem gamblers". Thanks to the internet the number now could be far higher.

Fortunately I'm too tight to gamble anything more than the odd pound.

The only significant win I've had was £150 at York races during my stag do. Out of character, I blew the lot in the Bay Horse on rounds for my mates. Never again.

Betting on next month's World Cup in Germany is expected to be in excess of £1 billion, according to bookmaker William Hill.

How many will be optimistic enough to bet that Rooney will recover in time to be top scorer?

Personally I can't see much money going on Peter Crouch. Not mine, anyway.

One thing is an absolute certainty: England will lose on penalties.

I'd stake my new house on it.