Deposit 10 get 100 free spins, priced per round: 10p in at the door, 5.76p back out of each

1

Ten pounds divided into a hundred, and the 10p that falls out

This key carries two numbers and no third. A sum goes across the cashier, ten pounds of it, and a count comes back, a hundred. Divide the count into the sum and a price appears that no promotion prints anywhere: 10p for one round. That quotient is the instrument of this whole section, and it exists because somebody paid. Nothing that is handed over without payment has a price per unit, so the keys that promise a count for nothing can be priced only by what their rounds return. Here a reader has put a real number in and received a real number back, and dividing one by the other is arithmetic rather than inference.

So the first figure on this bill is 10p a round, and the second is what one of those rounds is worth once it has been played and the condition on the winnings has been met. The two are not the same figure and they are not even the same kind of figure. The first is a price of admission and it is paid in advance. The second is an expectation and it arrives afterwards. A page that lets the reader believe the first is the cost of the second has priced the thing backwards, because the ten pounds does not leave the account when the count is credited.

The third figure is what the identical hundred rounds cost when nobody gives them away at all, and it is the figure seven other publications on this key do not print, having no paid side to compare with. Priced on a 10p round against 96 per cent coming back assumed here, read nowhere, a hundred rounds of the reader’s own money cost 40p in expectation. That is the whole charge for the same play, with no condition attached to any of it. The distance from £5.76 down to minus 40p is what this bill exists to print, and the arithmetic reaching both ends of it is set out below with every figure named where it is spent.

None of the three figures requires knowing which cashier is offering the count. A lobby full of familiar artwork tells a reader nothing whatever about what a round there returns, and no figure on this bill is sourced to a title or to the firm that built it. What the sums need is a count, a stake and a return, and only the first of those three is published by the offer itself.

2

Why treating the tenner as the price of the count spends it twice

A deposit is a transfer and not a purchase. Ten pounds moves from a card or a wallet into an account, and at the instant it lands it is still ten pounds of the reader’s money. Nothing has been bought and nothing consumed, and the sum stays withdrawable in principle upon whatever conditions the terms set down. A count of a hundred arrives beside it as a condition of that transfer having happened, which is a different relationship from the one a shopper has with a till.

This matters to the arithmetic and not merely to the wording. If the ten pounds were the price of the hundred rounds, then the hundred rounds would have to come to more than ten pounds for the transaction to be worth doing, and they come to £5.76. Priced that way the offer looks like a loss of £4.24 before a single round is pressed. But the ten pounds is still there. It has not been handed to anybody. What it has done is satisfy a condition, and the right way to say so is that the deposit buys admission and the count is what admission is worth.

So the deposit gets priced on its own terms, separately, and the figure is small. Ten pounds of balance passed once through a game returning 96 per cent this publisher’s figure gives back £9.60, which means a single pass costs 40p. Passed twice it costs 78p and change, because the second pass works on £9.60 rather than on £10.00, and the series shrinks from there. A reader who deposits and withdraws without playing has paid nothing at all for the admission except whatever the cashier charges to move the money, and this bill prints no such charge because none is published for a key of this shape.

Where the terms require the deposit itself to be turned over before anything can be taken out, the sum changes and this bill cannot strike it. Whether a condition reaching past credited funds to the deposit underneath falls inside the British ceiling has never been settled by the regulator off the rule sheet, and no example addressing it exists. So the figure is named and left: a deposit-and-count requirement at ten times would ask £200.00 of turnover rather than £96.00, and until an offer prints which base it uses, the second of those two totals is the one this bill works with and says so.

The honest summary of part two is two sentences long. The ten pounds buys the right to a hundred rounds and remains the reader’s money while it does so. The hundred rounds come to £5.76 after the condition on them is met, and that £5.76 is the only thing on this page the offer has actually given anybody.

3

A face of £10.00, and the £9.60 that lands in the balance

A count becomes a sum once two things are settled: what a single round puts at stake, and what proportion of everything staked comes back. Neither is set by the count. The first is a trading decision that nobody has to print, and no rule anywhere fixes what a free round is worth no source sets a spin value, so this bill states 10p and spends it openly every time. The second is the return, and this bill takes 96 per cent as an ordinary figure for the kind of game such counts are credited on, states that it is the publisher’s own assumption, and attaches it to no title.

With those two in hand the hundred turns into money twice over. A hundred rounds at 10p put £10.00 at stake, which is the face of the count and happens to equal the deposit exactly, a coincidence of this particular key rather than a rule about offers. At 96 per cent, £10.00 of turnover returns £9.60, so £9.60 is what the hundred rounds hand to the balance. The 40p difference is the return taking its share, and it is taken from the offer’s stake rather than from the reader’s, because on the free side the rounds stake themselves.

It is worth saying plainly what £9.60 is and is not. It is not winnings in the sense of money a reader can move. It is a balance figure standing in an account with a condition written across it, and the condition is the whole subject of part four. A reader reading £9.60 on a screen has not been given £9.60. What they have been given is £9.60 of something that has to be turned over before any of it converts, and the turnover is where most of it goes.

The face of £10.00 also gives a second reading of the quotient from part one. Admission cost 10p a round and each round stakes 10p, so on this key the price of entry and the stake per round are the same number. That is not a general property of bought counts. It falls out of a deposit of ten pounds matched to a count of a hundred at a 10p stake, and the two neighbouring keys in this section break the coincidence in opposite directions: three hundred rounds for the same ten pounds brings admission down to 3.33p a round, and two hundred for five pounds brings it to 2.5p, while the stake stays where this publisher sets it.

A last figure belongs under this heading, wanted by any reader and arrived at from a published duty rather than from opinion. On a British licence, a net deposit of £150 within a single month sets off a financial check of the lighter kind from 28 February 2025. Ten pounds is a fifteenth of that, so a deposit of this size sits far beneath the figure at which a licensed operator has to look at a customer’s means at all. Beneath an offshore cashier there is no such figure, high or low, and the count is credited either way.

4

Ten times of turnover, and what is left of £9.60 afterwards

Everything from here turns on one multiple, which is the one input a depositor is likeliest to be missing at the moment of depositing. A requirement to turn a balance over before it converts is priced by E = B × (1 − W × (1 − RTP) ∕ g), whose four inputs are the balance in hand, the multiple asked of it, the return the game pays back and the share a qualifying game counts for. Put the £9.60 in as the balance, ten as the multiple, 96 per cent as the return and full weight as the share, and what survives is £5.76.

Ten is not a market figure and this bill does not present it as one. It is the ceiling a British licence imposes, since a licensee asking turnover beyond ten times of credited funds in force 19 January 2026 is outside the rule. Where the winnings of a free round reach a balance as bonus funds, turnover on those funds is capped at that ten. Whether the cap reaches a free round as such is not something the regulator has published, and this bill neither claims it does nor claims it does not. What ten gives is the heaviest demand a British offer could lawfully make, and a heavier demand leaves less behind, so £5.76 is the least the free side comes to under British terms rather than the most. Every lawful multiple short of ten leaves more than £5.76 standing and opens the £6.16 wider. That direction is the one worth printing: a page bounded this way says the count beats paying by at least that much, where a page bounded the other way would promise an advantage no offer has been shown to give.

The share a qualifying game counts for is the input most often left out of a promotion entirely. Where no contribution percentage appears anywhere, this bill takes the kindest available reading of that term, puts the share at full weight, and repeats as much wherever the share is spent. Doing otherwise moves the finding a long way rather than a little: at a contribution of thirty per cent, which one respondent quoted to the regulator in consultation a respondent’s rate, not the regulator’s, ten times on £9.60 asks more turnover than the balance can survive and the free side falls to nothing. The working is this publisher’s own on a rate somebody else quoted, and it stands here so that a reader meeting a weighting table can tell which way the thing cuts.

Read the tally downwards and the shape of the thing is obvious. Doubling the multiple does not halve the finding, it quarters it, because the return takes 4p off every pound of turnover and the turnover grows with the multiple while the balance does not. Twenty-five times is the point where 4p a pound has eaten the whole £9.60, and above it the expression goes negative and is floored at nothing, since a balance cannot hand back less than all of itself. Nobody here invented the sixty-times line: the regulator recorded, as its reason for imposing any ceiling, that a licensee could then be found asking turnover of that size.

The practical reading for this key is therefore narrow and firm. At the best multiple a British licence allows, a hundred rounds bought with ten pounds come to £5.76. At anything above twenty-five times they come to nothing at all, and an offer carrying no British licence is bound by no ceiling whatever, so nothing in the rulebook stops it standing on the wrong side of that line.

5

A hundred rounds funded at 10p apiece out of a reader’s balance

Now the second sum, which is one subtraction and needs no multiple at all. A hundred rounds of the reader’s own 10p put £10.00 through the game and bring £9.60 of it back, so the hundred cost 40p. That 40p is the entire price of the play. There is no condition on the winnings, nothing having been advanced and so nothing being owed, no multiple stands in the way and no published ceiling applies, and whatever the hundred rounds do win is money on the day it lands.

Forty pence is a smaller number than most readers expect, and the reason is worth a sentence. A return under a hundred per cent does not take its margin in one bite, it takes 4p from every pound that passes through, and a hundred rounds at 10p pass ten pounds through exactly once. The margin only becomes large when the same money passes through many times, which is precisely what a turnover requirement arranges. Ten times of turnover on £9.60 pushes £96.00 through the game and the 4p a pound adds to £3.84, which is why the free side loses two thirds of its balance while the paid side loses 4 per cent of its stake.

That comparison is the engine of this whole domain and it is worth stating in its bare form. The cost of play is the turnover multiplied by the shortfall in the return. Free money arrives with a lot of required turnover attached. Paid money arrives with none. So the free side starts higher and then pays for the privilege, and whether it finishes higher depends entirely on a multiple that the reader is asked to accept before seeing how it lands.

Two small honesties belong beside the 40p. The first is that 40p is an expectation and not a result: a hundred actual rounds will finish above or below it and this publisher has pressed none of them. The second is that the 40p assumes the money goes through once, which is what a hundred rounds at 10p does to ten pounds, and a reader who carries on playing the returned £9.60 pays again on that pass. Neither point changes the comparison, because the free side is worked at the same return on the same stake.

6

£6.16 of distance, and 61.6 rounds of the same thing

The two findings subtract to £6.16. On the free side the hundred rounds finish at £5.76; on the paid side the identical hundred finish at minus 40p; and £5.76 taken from minus 40p is a distance of £6.16 in the free side’s favour. Dividing by the 10p stake turns the same distance into 61.6 rounds, which is what the finding looks like when it is said as play rather than as cash.

Both forms matter and neither replaces the other. Said in money, £6.16 is what the count is worth as a thing received, and it is a shade under two thirds of the ten pounds that opened the door. Said in rounds, 61.6 is what the count is worth as play, and it means a reader who took the offer and a reader who did not are 61.6 rounds apart at the point the condition has been satisfied. Both numbers rest on the same four inputs and both collapse together if the multiple turns out to be larger than ten.

£5.76 when the offer stakes the hundred and minus 40p when the reader does, with £6.16 of daylight between the two figures and 61.6 rounds of head start at the 10p this bill sets

There is a third figure available on this key that no other section of this site can print, and it belongs in the prose rather than in the instrument, which has four fixed columns and no room for it. Admission cost 10p a round. What a round comes to, once the hundred have been played and ten times of turnover has crossed the balance, is £5.76 divided by a hundred, which is 5.76p. So a reader pays 10p a round at the door and receives 5.76p a round in expectation, and the shortfall of 4.24p a round is not a loss, because the 10p never left the account. It is the measure of how much of the admission price the count actually replaces, and on this key the answer is a little under three fifths of it.

Set that against the two neighbouring keys and the section’s instrument starts to earn its keep. Three hundred rounds for the same ten pounds returns 5.76p a round against an admission price of 3.33p, so the count more than replaces what the door asked. Two hundred rounds for five pounds returns the same 5.76p against 2.5p. On this key alone, of the three, the admission price per round is higher than what a round comes to, and that is the finding a reader arriving at a hundred-for-ten offer should carry away.

7

What a British licence would have taken off each figure

Everything above is arithmetic on an offer nobody is obliged to shape in any particular way. A British licence obliges a great deal, and the useful exercise is not to recite the rulebook but to apply a handful of its duties to the figures already standing on this page and print what each one is worth here.

Two of those four have a figure attached and two do not, and the difference is worth keeping straight. The ceiling and the stake cap are numbers, so they can be put into the sums: ten times gives £5.76 and the cap says the 10p is a fiftieth of what a licensed round may take. Identification and the self-exclusion scheme carry no figure, so they stand here as duties and nothing is totalled off them. Their absence costs a reader a check rather than a sum, and this bill says which of those two kinds of loss each duty leaves behind.

One further duty belongs here because it bears on the ten pounds rather than on the count. A British licensee holding customer money must tell the customer in its terms whether that sum would survive an insolvency, at which of four stated ratings, and by what means a disclosure duty, off the sheet; where the rating is the lowest of the four, the reminder has to be repeated every six months and acknowledged before the money is gambled with. The ten pounds in this bill’s sums is exactly the money that duty is about. Outside the British licence nothing requires the question to be answered at all, which is a loss that cannot be priced and can be stated.

8

The figures nobody prints, and the totals left unstruck

Three of this bill’s inputs belong to the publisher and wear that label at the point of spending: a 10p round, 96 per cent coming back, and the choice to read an unprinted contribution share at full weight. Two further inputs belong to the offer and are read off it where an offer exists to read: the count, which this key publishes as a hundred, and the multiple, which it does not publish at all.

So the multiple is the figure this bill lacks, and part four handles the lack by working the sum at the ceiling instead of at a guess. That is a different move from assuming a typical multiple, and the difference is the point. A ceiling is published and checkable, and because it is the heaviest demand the rules allow it bounds the answer from underneath: £5.76 is the least and not the most. A typical figure would be neither published nor checkable, and a plausible number in the place of a stated absence is worse than the absence, because a reader can test an absence and cannot test a plausible number.

Two further figures are missing and nothing is totalled for either. One is a limit on what the count may win: no rule converts winnings from a credited round into a capped sum, and none is published anywhere, so where an offer attaches one the £5.76 above becomes whatever the lower of the two figures is and this bill cannot say which. The second is the base the turnover is counted on, already named in part two, since a condition stretching past the credited funds to the deposit asks £200.00 of turnover rather than £96.00 and the regulator has published nothing on whether that is inside its ceiling or outside it.

It is worth closing on the one case where this arithmetic is not needed. A round played in a demonstration version of a game costs nothing and returns nothing, always, there being no route at all by which cash departs one. Five hundred pounds showing on a demonstration balance pays nought. That is the floor this whole domain stands on, and it is why a bought count is interesting at all: ten pounds and a hundred rounds is the first point on this site where the word free attaches to something with an arithmetic behind it, and the arithmetic says £5.76 at the least against 40p of ordinary cost.

A reader who wants the three bought counts side by side will find them a page apart. Three hundred rounds for ten pounds is the same deposit against a bigger count. Two hundred for five pounds is a smaller deposit against a count between the two. And the floors in this section, the sums that merely open a door without naming any count at all, are a different question again, because a floor prices permission and not play.