Did you see that Shannon Noll is in trouble with the wowsers of the world for agreeing to be the “face” of the Australian Poker League?

From what I can make out, they’re the mob who run a lot of those poker tournaments in pubs and clubs these days.

I’m not sure if they run the Texas Hold ’Em Draw Two Go Fish Old Maid tournaments or the rival Party Poker Bring A Plate Of Nibblies With You events.

I know I’m being silly but does anyone else remember when there was nothing but the plain old everyday five-card poker you learnt at your mother’s knee?

You got five cards, tossed in the ones you didn’t want, the dealer topped you up and then you bet as high as you could go until your supply of matches ran out.

I’m not a big fan of Shannon Noll’s since he massacred that Moving Pictures’ song but he’s a country boy at heart and I reckon that, like me, he learnt to play poker before he could walk.

My mum got banned from attending morning teas because all the other mothers got upset about me running poker schools in the playpen. (They wouldn’t call them “schools” if they weren’t good, would they?)

None of that fancy I’m The Town Five Card Stud Look At Me stuff – just basic poker.

It probably had a name but I hadn’t learnt the alphabet by that stage, so I wasn’t big on reading.

Sure, a couple of the newer babies lost their nappies and one little bloke had to hock his stroller. But no one really got hurt.

I’m not sure who to blame for my gambling streak.

I don’t actually feel the need to blame anyone because I don’t see it as a problem – more a hereditary condition.

My dad’s father ran a barber shop/tobacconist/casket agency/snooker hall when I was just a nipper and the local SP bookmaker was out the back with clear access to the laneway for an easy getaway.

Some of my earliest memories are of snooker tables as big as bowling greens and the smoke-filled room where the illegal betting took place.

I’m not sure if they are real memories or false ones inspired by family legends – and frankly, I don’t really care. They’re nice memories and they’re mine.

Mum and Dad have always held poker nights with family and friends and when my Nanna and Pop bought a pub in later years (how lucky can a teenage boy get?) it became a tradition for the older generation to bring Christmas Day to a close by throwing a blanket over the dining table and getting out the cards.

It was just a natural part of life.

I’m pretty sure this gambling tradition rubs off because most of my siblings and cousins love a punt – although I’m far too tight to do it much these days.

It’s even rubbed off on my mum, who married into the clan from a family where gambling wasn’t big.

She’s been handy at poker for as long as I can remember (I suppose she had to be!) and now plays competition bridge every week.

Don’t laugh. If you think poker can get competitive, try being stuck in the middle of a serious game of bridge.

And the tradition continues. A few years ago my stepson turned 18 and my wife and I were shopping in Maroochydore with him and my eldest boy, who was already 20 or 21.

While my wife was in a shop, the conversation turned to casinos and I commented that my stepson had them to look forward to, now that he was “legal”.

“Isn’t that right mate,” I said to my son, with a fatherly nudge.

“I wouldn’t know dad,” he said. “I’ve never been to a casino.”

I almost choked!

When my wife returned, I broke the news that neither of our eldest sons had ever been to a casino and she was as stunned as I had been.

It’s now family legend that exactly one hour and 49 minutes later we were steering them through the doors of the Treasury Casino in Brisbane - the shopping trip long forgotten – to introduce them to the delights of blackjack, roulette, mini-baccarat and my personal favourite, sic-bo.

What can I say?

I blame my parents and my parents' parents and maybe even my parents', parents' parents.

Shannon Noll? He can look after himself.

But if he wasn’t locked up over his music, defending himself from these latest attacks should be a breeze.