Peter Craske

Peter Craske, the ABB's spokesman, watches as the morning's biggest spender feeds ￡340 into Roar's roulette machines. He doesn't see that level of spending as problematic. "Why does that mean he has a problem? It's quite a big leap to conclude that because he spent that much he has a problem – if he has that money to spend. We'd just be speculating," he says. He mounts a fierce defence of an industry that employs 40,000 people in the UK and which he says pays ￡1bn in tax every year. "People aren't dragged into betting shops. Eight million customers come in every year. They come because they want to, they like the good atmosphere."The Fairer Gambling figures are unverified, he says, and neglect to point out the 97% payout rate on the machines, which have a fixed profit of 3%. But this rate of return to the player doesn't seem to be reflected in the takings on the machines in Slough's Roar the day I visit. By 6.20pm, ￡1,593 has been put into the machines and ￡714 has been paid out, giving the shop a profit of ￡878.

Naseem Khan, the new father, is back again at 6pm, and quickly feeds ￡65 into a machine. He places small bets all over the table, listening to the twock, twock, twock as he lays down simulated counters on the table, before whacking the spin button with his fist. He wins ￡72 and sighs "Thank God" to the screen.In the evening there are fewer live races, and the screens begin showing virtual greyhounds racing at a fictional track, Millersfield, with live commentary on how the pixelated dogs are faring. These virtual dogs look fatter, less wild and sinewy than the real thing; their tails curl unnaturally.A steady flow of young men, playing rapid games of roulette and then disappearing, continues throughout the evening. Even those who are winning say they would like to see the machines disappear.

A student from India is trying to win some money to make his weekly allowance of ￡60 go further. Today he plays ￡5 and wins ￡40 and is going to go next door to Tesco to buy some food. On the days he doesn't win he reduces the amount he eats that week. He would be in favour of a ban, and says the machines are "not good for us".Bob, 31, a Heathrow baggage handler who won't give his full name, has been coming in three or four times a week to play on the machines since a friend introduced him to them a few months ago. He seems somewhat in denial about how much time he spends in the shop. "Not a lot. I try to stay out as much as I can."He wins ￡130 and cashes in the money. "Some days they are absolute darlings," he says of the machines, but he would still like them to be removed."They are horrible.