Two-Up on Anzac Day | The Essential Australian Tradition Guide

How to Play Two-Up on Anzac Day – Australia’s Iconic Gambling Tradition

Dawn breaks over Australia on April 25th. Solemn crowds gather at memorials, heads bowed. Then something remarkable happens: by afternoon, these same respectful mourners transform into rowdy, shouting mobs – all legally gambling in pubs across the country.

‘Come in, spinner’

Two-up on Anzac Day – the only day when this normally illegal game explodes into life. It’s not just some quaint Aussie tradition; it’s a bloody cultural institution that bridges generations, connects us to our diggers, and offers a rare glimpse into Australia’s rebellious soul.

For 24 glorious hours, the law looks the other way and the coins start flying.

WHAT THE HELL IS ANZAC DAY ANYWAY?

For the uninitiated: Anzac Day (April 25th) commemorates all Australians and New Zealanders who served and died in wars and conflicts. Named after the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) who landed at Gallipoli in 1915, it’s a day of remembrance, reflection, and yes – a bit of traditional gambling.

WHAT THE HELL IS TWO-UP ANYWAY?

At its core, two-up is beautifully simple: two coins get tossed in the air, and you bet on how they’ll land. That’s it. No fancy rules, no complicated scoring systems – just pure gambling that even your nan could understand (and probably does, better than you).

The possible outcomes are:

• Both coins land heads up (winner!)
• Both coins land tails up (loser!)
• One of each (“odds” – throw again, mate)

SETTING UP THE GAME

You’ll need:

• Two pennies (preferably pre-1939 Australian pennies with the sovereign’s head, but any will do if you mark ’em with a white cross on the tails side)
• A wooden bat called a “kip” to launch the coins
• A designated ring where coins must land
• A bunch of thirsty punters with cash to lose

THE CAST OF CHARACTERS

Every proper two-up game has these key players:

• The Spinner: The poor bastard tossing the coins
• The Boxer: Runs the show, takes commission (typically 10% of winning bets), keeps everyone honest
• The Ringkeeper (Ringie): Manages the coins, calls “Come in, Spinner!”
• Cockatoo: The lookout (not really needed anymore since it’s legal on Anzac Day, but tradition, innit?)

HOW TO ACTUALLY PLAY

1. Form a circle (the “school”) around the designated ring.
2. The boxer selects a spinner who places a bet, usually on heads.
3. Another player must “cover” this bet with equal money on tails.
4. The spinner places coins on the kip (sometimes tails up).
5. Once all side bets are sorted, the ringkeeper calls “COME IN, SPINNER!”
6. The spinner launches those coins at least head-height with a decent spin.
7. If both coins show heads, the spinner wins and can keep going.
8. If both coins show tails, the spinner loses their bet and their turn.
9. If it’s “odds” (one head, one tail), nothing happens and they throw again.
10. The spinner can “toss the kip” (retire) after a win to collect their winnings.

SIDE BETTING – WHERE THE REAL ACTION IS

While the spinner does their thing, everyone else is shouting bets across the ring:

“FIFTY ON HEADS!” [taps money dramatically on head]

“I’LL TAKE THAT!” [another punter pushes through the crowd]

Side betters place wagers against each other, not the house. The tail-better typically holds both players’ money until the outcome is decided. If you’re new, start small – $5 or $10 bets let you join the fun without risking your rent money.

ODDING OUT AND OTHER QUIRKS

If the spinner throws five “odds” in a row (one head, one tail), they’ve “odded out” – which means they lose their turn. The probability of this happening is only about 3.1%, but when it does, the whole crowd erupts.

Some country pubs have their own house rules. In some places, three coins are used for “sudden death” (no chance of odds), while others require the spinner to get three consecutive heads to win. Ask the locals before jumping in.

TIPS FOR FIRST-TIMERS

1. Watch a round or two before joining in. The energy is infectious but intimidating.
2. Bring cash. No EFTPOS in the two-up ring, cobber.
3. Don’t be a dickhead with the kip. If you’re selected as spinner, toss those coins cleanly above head height or you’ll hear about it.
4. Know when to shut up. When the ringie calls “Come in, Spinner,” everyone goes quiet.
5. Don’t “welsh” on bets. Pay up when you lose or you’ll never be welcome back.
6. Pace your drinking. Two-up and ten schooners don’t mix well.

THE ATMOSPHERE – WHAT TO EXPECT

“I’ve been running the ring at the Balmain RSL for 20 years,” says Barry, 72. “There’s nothing like the roar when a spinner gets their fifth heads in a row. It’s electric – you can feel it in your bones.”

The two-up ring is organised chaos. Bodies pressed together, the smell of beer and sweat, the collective groan when tails appears, and the euphoric cheers when the spinner hits a streak. It’s tribal, it’s raw, and it’s absolutely Australian.

THE ANZAC DAY LOOPHOLE

Two-up was illegal for decades except when played by diggers on Anzac Day. Now the NSW Gambling (Two-Up) Act 1998 makes it legal on April 25th in RSL clubs and pubs. The rest of the year? Don’t push your luck, mate.

WHY IT WAS ILLEGAL

For most of Australia’s history, two-up operated in the shadows. Elaborate illegal “schools” like the legendary Thommo’s in Surry Hills ran for decades with corrupt police turning a blind eye.

The government saw it as unregulated gambling that couldn’t be taxed. The players saw it as their cultural right. This tension continued until states began legalising it for Anzac Day in the 1990s.

CASINO VERSION

If you get the bug and want to play outside Anzac Day, Crown casinos in Perth and Melbourne offer legal two-up year-round. But it’s sanitised – no side betting, no character, and the house always takes its cut with rules like “five odds loses.”

The casino odds:

• Single Head bet: 1-1 payout (3.125% house edge)
• Single Tail bet: 1-1 payout (3.125% house edge)
• 5 Odds bet: 28-1 payout (9.375% house edge)

WHY PLAY TWO-UP

Two-up isn’t just about the gambling. It’s about honouring the diggers who played it in the trenches of Gallipoli and the Western Front. It connects us to those young blokes who tossed pennies between artillery barrages, finding moments of joy amid the horror.

“My great-grandfather taught me to play when I was 12,” says Melissa from Newcastle. “Every Anzac Day, I play a round for him and his mates who never came home. It makes them feel close again.”

So this Anzac Day, after the dawn service and the march, find yourself a two-up ring. Chuck a few coins, have a beer, and raise a glass to the diggers who gave us both the freedom to remember and the tradition worth keeping.

Just don’t blame me when you lose your taxi fare home.

Lest we forget.