Source: Mr Bridge by Dick Atkinson 
My ancient but formidable uncle, Baron Leopold von Miinchaussen, was perusing some bridge magazine or other which had arrived in the morning mail.
‘Gray got it right, you know.’
`Harrison Gray?’ I asked. That great English international had been a near contemporary of Uncle Leo, being born at the turn of the century.
`No, no! The poet: Full many a rose is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. That Gray.’
`I’m sorry?’ `Gray’s Elegy. Look at this refreshing little publication. ‘Bridge’ — what simplicity. And it’s free too. Did you know you could buy bridge mugs, bridge T-shirts — whatever they are —and even bridge Christmas cards? Fascinating. But this deal.., dear oh dear. Why don’t people learn to expect the unexpected?’
Expect the Unexpected
The hands and auction were as follows:
`The auction, of course, is a thing of real beauty —’
`But, Uncle Leo, why rush into —’
`Don’t interrupt. That ridiculous Blackwood bid functioned as a transfer, ensuring that the big hand became dummy, and so that there would be perfect defence! You see the point — only perfect technical play by declarer will do. The lead is a spade. Over to you.’
`6 is a much better contract. Even 7, is perhaps better, though not good, of course. Or —
‘The harrumph was deafening. `You’re waffling, boy! What do you play?’
`I suppose there is a finite chance of a doubleton J and a singleton K…’
`You’ve just gone down. Listen to this.’ He peered watery-eyed through the blue haze of a Double Corona, and read from the printed article: Not only did the small slam have no play, East lost two trump tricks when South turned up with the singleton Ace of clubs to finish two down!’
`Well, there you are. It can’t be helped.’
`And what did South return to put this contract two down?’ I tried to read the page upside down, but the print was too small.
‘He doesn’t tell you. He doesn’t have to tell you!’
Ah, I see it now. It couldn’t be a spade, or declarer would ditch the losing diamond on the king. And it couldn’t be a diamond through the queen-jack, killing the King. And it couldn’t be a trump, because he hadn’t got one. ‘A heart. Yes! So even though the contract doesn’t make, he could save the extra undertrick by cashing the A before playing the king of trumps.’
`Numbskull! Of course, the heart first. But the trump king can never secure your contract, as an opponent with A-x-(x) will take the ace immediately and exit safely with a small trump.’
`You mean I should lead the queen?
He might duck in case his partner had the singleton king…’
`You forget that, thanks to the choice of response, the strong hand has performed the dance of the seven veils: all is revealed —’
The Full Monty
`The Full Monty,’ I interrupted.
`Quite so. The defender can see the K-Q. If the ace is doubleton, he’ll return the other trump to table and you’re down anyway. Therefore, since you need a singleton A to throw the player in, you should lead —’
`A small trump!’ I interrupted. `You’re right Uncle Leo! Take the A, cash the A, lead the 3 to the A and South must give you a discard or a free finesse in diamonds; then you can draw trumps with the K-Q. Masterly.
The old man had fixed me with a baleful glare. ‘Imbecile! Have you learned nothing? You are no better than the perpetrator of this article.’
`But I make the contract,’ I protested. `And if North has A-J-4-2 and South has the guarded K? What then? You will be three down! There were only three wrong clubs and six right ones and, with odds like that and three chances, you couldn’t find one of them!’
`That’s not very fair. I was hardly awake. I’m sure I’d have got it right at the table,’ I lied.
`And are you awake now?’
I nodded, my heart sinking.
Aristocrats v Plutocrats
`This deal from the 1959 Aristocrats v Plutocrats final has certain similarities to that other. Let’s see whether you have learned anything.’ 
Surely the 3 sign-off is —’
`Not. East’s weak call is Pass; 3 is constructive, as every good player knows. Both players have bid quite strongly enough on a patent misfit. North leads the 2, to the 7, Q, A. Plan the play!’
After a moment’s furious thought and the clues of the previous tongue-lashing, I replied, ‘It’s pretty straightforward. You have six tricks on top, so you need three more. You can afford to lose two clubs. Cash the A, cross to the J, lead the club seven,’ I purred. ‘They clear the diamonds, hopefully I force out the remaining high club, they cash a… No?’
Only 72% Chance of Making
`You were hoping to make on a 3-3 break, or 4-2 with a doubleton honour, or 5-1 with a singleton honour or nine.’ Well, OK, if he said so. ‘That’s about a 72% bet.
‘ Absolutely!’ I gloated. `
In fact South has: 
In with the 9, he simply plays his 3 and the contract becomes unmakeable. The Billionaire holding your cards played a little better. He led the Q rather than the 7. The odds are the same, since he hopes for a doubleton J or 9; but since he gives the opponents no choice of who wins the trick, he might hope that the spade switch might be less obvious to the holder of the K. But the spade was led back anyway.’
That infuriating old man! He had virtually tricked me into playing a middle club with his misleading clue.
`Nevertheless,’ I said, ‘it made no difference, so my line was, in practice, just as good.’
`Or as bad. In the other room, I played the A at trick two, then came back to hand with a heart to play the 7.’
Lucky Guess?
`That’s a lucky guess. Why play the weaker suit?’
`Cretin! Firstly, since you can’t lead up to the Q-10 yourself, the two suits are exactly equivalent in attack. Your losers are restricted to two about 72% of the time. But you ignored the key similarity to that previous hand. You have shown up with a singleton A, and were unable to rebid in a four-card red suit. You must have six spades, which, since you have gone for the clubs instead, must be weaker than Q-10-8-7-x-x. Everybody can see exactly how the diamonds lie. You have done the Full Manly, as you so inelegantly phrased it and the small spade switch will be inevitable, even from, say, Q-x!. `But in your line they can switch to a club… Damn!’
`Exactly so: usually you will be able to restrict your club losers to one if they are played for you. Never mind. Have a look at page two of that BRIDGE thing. There’s a clever little machine which Allows you to take back any bid or play, or to view all hands… Or perhaps something requiring less skill would suit your — er — talents better. I suggest you take up Beggar-My-Neighbour. You’ll still have all the fun of counting up your points — four for an ace, three for a king and so on.’
100% Skill
I was cut to the quick. ‘I’m surprised you think I could master its intricacies,’ I shot back. ‘Why not go the whole hog, and suggest Snap?’ His lip curled ominously. (He had informed me previously that, on more than one historical occasion, the Miinchaussen Sneer had been worth at least an extra squadron of uhlans in the Prussian cause.) ‘I knew there was bad blood in my brother-in-law’s family… Snap, my dear idiot, is perhaps the only card game which is 100% pure skill…’