When the lottery is genuinely +EV
A mathematician calculated that a rolled-over Irish Lotto jackpot was worth more than the cost of covering every combination. The operator fought back mid-purchase.
In May 1992 an accountant and mathematician named Stefan Klincewicz organised the most direct lottery strategy possible: buy every combination. The story is often told as a heist. It is better understood as a very large arithmetic problem with a logistics failure and a sharing problem attached.
The Irish Lotto at the time was a 6-from-36 game. The number of possible combinations was:
C(36, 6) = 1,947,792
At 50 pence a line, covering every combination cost about £973,896 — under a million pounds. Klincewicz targeted a bank-holiday weekend draw in which the jackpot had rolled and the operator had added guaranteed prize money, so the total prize pool across all divisions exceeded that outlay.
That is the whole insight, and it is sound. Unlike a modern jackpot game, the Irish Lotto's combination space was small enough that a well-funded syndicate could physically buy all of it. Compare US Powerball's 292,201,338 combinations at $2, which would cost over half a billion dollars and cannot be printed in time — that gap is not an accident of scale, it is a deliberate design property of modern games.
Crucially, buying every combination also collects every lower-division prize: all the five-number matches, all the four-number matches. Those add up, and unlike the jackpot they are only lightly shared.
On the May bank holiday weekend of 1992, Klincewicz's syndicate — reported as around two dozen investors — deployed teams of buyers across Ireland with pre-printed slips, working retail terminals in shifts.
They did not finish. The operator noticed the pattern of bulk buying and, mid-operation, restricted terminals to slow the purchases. The syndicate is generally reported to have covered around 80% of the combination space rather than all of it.
They held a winning ticket. So did two other players — a syndicate from Newbridge and a ticket sold at Dunnes Stores in Finglas. The jackpot was therefore split three ways (The Irish Times, RNZ).
A three-way split of the jackpot alone would not have covered the outlay. What rescued the operation was the lower divisions: owning 80% of all combinations means owning roughly 80% of every match-5, match-4 and bonus prize in the draw. Those, plus the reduced jackpot share, are reported to have left the syndicate modestly ahead.
So: the plan worked, sort of, and the margin came from exactly the place the Cash WinFall syndicates would later target — the lower divisions, not the headline.
Co-winners. This is the risk the plan could not eliminate. Buying every combination guarantees you a winning ticket; it does not guarantee you are the only holder of one. Two other tickets turned a full jackpot into a third of one. This is the Poisson sharing problem in its most concentrated form, and it gets worse the more publicity a rolled-over jackpot receives — precisely the draws worth targeting.
Operator intervention. A lottery is not obliged to sell you two million tickets. The operator can throttle terminals, and did.
Modern game design has closed this route on every front:
The 1992 Irish attempt sits with the 1729 Voltaire syndicate and Cash WinFall as one of the three well-documented cases where a lottery was genuinely beatable. All three share a profile:
Nothing sold as a lottery system today resembles any of them, and the expected value calculator will show you why: at current matrices, sharing and tax, no jackpot level in a modern game reaches the break-even point.
Last verified: 2026-08-29