Andrew Wilkie described Clubs Australia’s proposal to start offering childcare services as a “sick joke”. Well ha ha, here’s the punchline: their proposal won’t just put childcare a stone’s throw away from the pokies, but will do something much sicker, which is to use the provision of critical social services like child care and aged care as collateral against future attempts at poker machine reform.

Now that’s a rib tickler! And the funniest part is how little current arrangements would need to change in order for it to become reality.

The Clubs Australia submission to the productivity commission’s childcare inquiry urged the commissioners to check out a report by the Labor-aligned McKell Institute, a thinktank that produces research in concert with industry groups.

The report, Meeting the Shortfall, was produced in conjunction with ClubsNSW, and the gist of its argument is this: childcare and aged care are growth industries, because of the need to increase female workforce participation and an ageing population; governments are increasingly reluctant to fund social services because of a shrinking tax base; and clubs are the only non-state organisation big enough, wealthy enough and with enough experience for widespread service delivery.

Already you can see that this isn’t about whether problem gamblers need professional child minding while they blow their pay packet on Queen of the Nile. What we’re talking about is clubs pushing for the right to deliver branded, privatised social services in the community. As the report puts it, “the clubs industry would significantly benefit from creating a ‘cradle-to-the-grave’ level of involvement with their communities”.

Here’s the clubs’ plan: obviously their main source of revenue is “EGM revenue” – electronic gaming machine profits, or as ordinary people describe it, the blood money we extract from problem gamblers.

That source of revenue “remains heavily exposed to taxation and regulatory frameworks” – in other words, political reform of poker machines will hit the clubs’ bottom line. The last time that happened was in 2007, when the ban on smoking in clubs cut NSW gaming machine revenue by 10.6% in the first year.

That revenue may go down further as real household incomes decline. The McKell report notes quite tartly that the result will be “a concurrent reduction in spending on discretionary activities, such as gaming”. Luckily, “it is unlikely that [households] will be able to outright ignore their need for essential services like child care and aged care ... giving low cost [not for profit] service providers a competitive edge”.

If they were to provide childcare, clubs would get an extra revenue stream that isn’t at risk from attempts to limit the amount punters can put through the pokies. More importantly, the McKell report recommends a couple of clever “reforms” that will lock service provision into a funding scheme dependent on clubs being able to maintain their poker machine funding at respectable levels.

Currently, a minimum of 0.4% of a club’s pokies profits over $1m automatically go into the ClubGRANTS Fund, a NSW government-administered pool of cash that pays out yearly out into community projects. The McKell report recommends the scheme be “enhanced” so that a club can instead directly invest in aged care or childcare centres they run themselves, and offset the costs against their 0.4% ClubGRANTS liability.

In essence, clubs want to be the recipients of their own non-negotiable charitable contributions to the scheme, and to plough that money into the upfront capital costs of building childcare or aged care centres on their own property. Doing so would turn the ClubGRANTS scheme from a source of one-off funding for sports facilities and walking tracks, to a perverse subsidy that would in all likelihood feed back into their existing hospitality and pokies revenue streams.

Remember, clubs also already have tax-free status and huge land holdings, many of which which are on $1-a-year “peppercorn” leases. On top of this, the report also recommends a whole series of tweaks to the existing tax regime, stamp duty, regulation and the like to encourage clubs to move into the sector. It also says volunteers should staff the clubs’ aged and child care centres in exchange for a stipend that would offset their university HECS debt.

This will all be done through amalgamating struggling clubs and smoothing the transfer of poker machine entitlements. The NSW Coalition government has a memorandum of understanding with the industry to support this process. Poker machine reform in NSW has already saved clubs $200m since 2011. And tweaking ClubGRANTS wouldn’t be a Herculean labour.

In essence, the more clubs make from pokies, the more revenue is captured by that 0.4% tax liability, which clubs want to be able to claim against to fund services. This turns kids and the elderly into insurance against poker machine reform. You can see the lines now: “clubs support the community, and any change to poker machines will threaten our ability to keep thousands of childcare and aged care places open...”

When I asked the McKell Institute’s executive director, Sam Crosby, whether funding such a scheme through tax concessions would entrench clubs’ ability to collect poker machine revenue, he told me that “poker machine revenue is entrenched. Nobody has been able to do anything about it, so why don’t we use it to do something good?”

It’s hard to agree, given that Crosby’s colleague at the McKell Institute, Tara Moriarty, who will launch the report next month, is a senior vice president of NSW Labor and high-profile opponent of Andrew Wilkie’s push for pokies reform under the Gillard government. If the political environment around poker machine reform is unchangeable, it’s because Labor has been the political beneficiary of gambling donations, and in the ACT, rakes in cash from its affiliated clubs.

The report is being launched by Moriarty and the NSW treasurer next month. The idea of handing over essential services to pokie palaces is likely to enjoy broad support in the political class. It’s easy to see why: the sector has been chronically underfunded, and is caught between the proposition of stricter means testing for high-income earners and United Voice’s Big Steps campaign, which would see childcare workers paid professional wages in a sector-wide transformation to “early childhood education”. That will likely involve expensive wage subsidies; without them, low-income families will be priced out of childcare altogether. Neither prospect is politically easy.

This is what happens when essential services aren’t funded properly by government: bizarre ideas like this suddenly become credible, and before you know it, they get implemented. How many more reminders do we need?

Victorian Labor will back a state government proposal to extend Crown’s licence to 2050 even though it does not like it, after doing a side deal with the casino to retrain 500 retrenched workers.

The opposition leader, Daniel Andrews, said the only responsible thing was for Labor to support the government bill, despite the party’s misgivings.

“It’s more in sorrow than any sense of great joy that I can confirm that the Labor party will not oppose the Crown bill,” Andrews told reporters on Tuesday.

Under the legislation, Crown’s licence will be extended to 2050, with an increase to the number of table games and poker machines, in exchange for additional payments of up to $910m to the state.

Labor says it will support the bill after securing a side deal with Crown – a public commitment to retrain 500 retrenched workers for free at the Tafe college that operates within the complex over the next four years.

Andrews said without the benefit of resources of treasury and finance, the opposition’s choices were to scuttle the deal, which he says would cost jobs, rewrite the deal without knowing the detail or make the best of it.

“The alternatives are to cost jobs. Instead we’ve chosen to secure this public commitment which is very important at a time when unemployment is skyrocketing and our Tafe system is on its knees.”

The bill is expected to go before the parliament on Thursday.

Two poster adverts for Ladbrokes have been banned on the grounds that they "condoned an irresponsible attitude towards gambling".

One showed a character nicknamed Mr Brightside with the slogan: "When you win it's skill - when you lose it's bad luck." The other read: "Once is luck - twice is talent."

There were 98 complaints to the Advertising Standards Authority (ASA) about the bookmaker's wider multi-media campaign, which featured five friends and carried the tagline:

"They are the dreamers, the glory-seekers, the back-page philosophers, the Wednesday night warriors. They are the have-a-go heroes of Saturday afternoon. They are the betting men, and this is the Ladbrokes Life."

Ladbrokes said it believed most consumers, viewing the ads as a whole, would recognise their dryly humorous tone and would not interpret them as encouraging an irresponsible attitude towards gambling.

The ASA agreed that most people would not interpret the ads to imply that gambling would confer admiration or enhance personal qualities.

But it upheld the specific complaints about the two posters because, in its view, they lacked contain the same degree of context as the overall campaign.

It therefore decided that the two posters broke the committee of advertising practice rules and must not appear again in their current form

A former City trader who bet a record £900,000 on Scotland voting no to independence has insisted it was a rational decision based on scores of opinion polls that showed the yes campaign would lose.

The trader won £193,333 after increasing his original stake of £400,000 with William Hill for the third and final time on the eve of Thursday’s referendum to a final total of £900,000. The vote was won by the no campaign by 55% to 45%.

Bookmakers reported a record number of bets on the referendum, which thousands of smaller sums staked in Scotland on a yes vote as the polls tightened in the final stages of the campaign; none came close to the £900,000 stake made with William Hill.

Partially breaking cover in an interview with Jeremy Vine on BBC2 on Monday, the unnamed businessman, who lives in the London area, said he had applied 30 years of experience as a market analyst and trader to work out how plausible a yes vote would be.

There were comments in the papers calling him a “feckless gambler”, he said, but his decision to so much of his wealth was purely rational and had been supported by his wife.

Describing himself as a committed unionist of Pakistani-German heritage, he said he had been partly motivated to gamble that much money – the largest political bet in British history and believed to be one of the largest worldwide – because it was good publicity for the pro-UK campaign.

But he added: “The first thing I should say is: don’t try this at home. Perhaps I have a bit of a unique background given what I do given I have been involved in markets and as my daughters tell me, I’m a bit of a data geek and information nerd.”

Nicknamed “Peter” by Vine after he insisted on remaining anonymous, he said he had studied more than 80 polls on the academic referendum website whatscotlandthinks.org, overseen by the Strathclyde University polling expert Professor John Curtice.

He had also studied the Quebec referendum in 1995, when the yes vote spiked sharply close to polling day. He decided the Scottish referendum was following the same cycle – except in Scotland, very few polls gave the yes vote a lead.

He admitted that the final polls showing a brief yes lead and then a very tight advantage to no had made him nervous. But as in Quebec, the no campaign made a stronger offer of new powers at the last stage, enough to cement their lead and too late to allow the yes campaign to respond.

Yes policy pledges and tactics, such the allegations that Scotland’s NHS was under threat, used by Alex Salmond, the first minister and Scottish National party leader, were “a momentum of vapours”, Peter said.

“Then they [the pro-union campaign] released the kraken, this Norse mythic god called Gordon Brown, who came with exactly the presence” the no campaign needed.

Denying charges from Radio 2 listeners that he was both feckless, “super-rich” and superficial by gambling so much money, Peter said he had already written out “a significant cheque to charity.” He added: “I’m trying to warn people this isn’t something we should do lightly.

The millionaire owner of Tasmania’s Museum of Old and New Art (Mona), David Walsh, wants visitors to take a gamble. Literally.

Walsh, who made his wealth at card tables, hopes to open a high-stakes mini casino at the museum on the outskirts of Hobart and has begun talking to stakeholders.

“I would be very happy indeed to have a little high-roller, tourist-only, no-pokie casino to be part of the Mona package,” Walsh has told the Mercury newspaper.

He would call it Monaco.

Walsh envisages no more than 12 gambling tables for wealthy international art lovers who would get a kick out of playing blackjack in highbrow surroundings.

Since Mona opened in 2011 it has built a global reputation and boosted the Tasmanian tourism sector.

Walsh said the casino would help underpin the museum’s finances.

Tasmania has two casinos operated by the Federal Group, which has an exclusive state licence.

Walsh does not believe his proposal would impact on current casino operations but he will need to get state government approval to go ahead with his plan.

David Walsh’s Museum of Old and New Art (Mona) in Hobart is a curation of surprising juxtapositions. Its provocative artworks include a sculpture of a dead suicide bomber cast in chocolate, a pinball machine that assists suicide and a couch that purrs like an animal when you sit on it.

Already incorporated into the subterranean exhibition galleries is a brewery and a boutique booze label, but Walsh’s recent decision to add a casino for high rollers to his labyrinthine complex is raising eyebrows among those with middle-class moral concerns.

Adding a casino to a world-renowned art museum poses a challenging conundrum for bourgeois people, who in Australia tend to enjoy art, wine and “Mona weekends” precisely as much as they frown upon gambling.

But Walsh is not of their bourgeois kin. He’s a Hobart boy from the working-class suburb of Glenorchy, a mathematical genius who dropped out of university to pursue a career as a professional gambler, skipping a transition into the middle class for a spectacular arrival into the ranks of the self-made rich. He privately funds Mona from a vast personal fortune amassed from his work in the gambling industry, and as such can and does exhibit work that speaks to his personal fascinations with sex, death, transformation, ennui and chance.

Walsh told the Hobart Mercury that he intends to call his casino “Monaco”, with 12 card tables for high-rolling tourists only. While Walsh has made Mona free for Tasmanians and charges very cheap admission for interstate and overseas visitors, the complex currently offers luxury visitor packages for wealthy tourists that include stays in designer bungalows stocked with collector artwork, Tasmanian produce and his Moorilla wine. The Mercury reports that Walsh’s intention is to cater to “wealthy, international art lovers who would get a kick out of playing blackjack in highbrow surroundings”.

Those appointing themselves police of moral purity in complaining about the proximity of gaming to art – while sipping the local chardonnay – may indeed be missing one of the conceptual triumphs of Walsh’s collection. Anyone familiar with the museum and the work it exhibits will recognise in Walsh’s casino plan another sly provocation from the most dynamic individual in the ecology of Australian art.

“I made my money gambling,” he told ABC journalist Leigh Sales in a recent interview. “It’s a zero-sum game. Like the stock markets, when someone wins, someone loses.” In the same interview, he was careful to acknowledge that his experience as a university dropout turned money man was a matter of good fortune – that the luck of circumstance was the difference between his prosperity and the limited material achievement of others.

In this context, the creation of a Mona casino is not so much a glitzy Packeresque money-sucker, but a restrained initiative artistically consistent with Walsh’s world-view. Mona opened in 2011, and Walsh describes his creation as “not a gallery so much as a museum of concrete philosophy”.

The distinction is, perhaps, the reason Mona’s impact on the Australian cultural landscape has been so momentous, renewing local enthusiasm for contemporary art and attracting the interest of a powerful international art audience to what was once the sleepy, if pretty, capital of island state Tasmania. Richard Dorment, an art critic from the UK’s Daily Telegraph, has said that Walsh “doesn’t collect famous names; his indifference to fashion is one of the strengths of the collection”.

Walsh’s personal philosophical enquiries are plainly on show in the magnificent sandstone structure built in to the side of a cliff on the Derwent river. That human communication, connections, even life itself, is a matter of chance, is explored in pieces like the famous waterfall that drops random internet search terms, or those that precipitate their own decay, like a giant buddha made of crumbling incense. Interviewed, Walsh makes much of the relationship between his extraordinary career as an international card sharp and the dynamics of luck.

That Mona must fund itself is, perhaps, also a pressing concern. Walsh has spent $100m on the building and its collection, and while the museum grows in popularity, the economics of accessibility means that Walsh’s $10m annual outlay is only returning $4m a year. Walsh has said in a previous interview with Guardian Australia that he feels Mona is a means of repaying a debt for his own luck.

The mechanism of a casino may facilitate the generosity of others with similar means to Walsh, but dissimilar feelings of obligation. To persuade their social contribution through a card table is arguably a conceptual artwork in itself, and something of a genius move.