Though roulette is considered a fools game in the world of advantage play, its centuries- long allure is undeniable.

Whether it’s a cavalier James Bond tossing planks like candy, a European trust-fund baby dispassionately tossing daddy’s money away at the Wynn, just your average Vegas-$1,000-till-it’s-gone Joe, or Bobby Vegas T-shirts that say “Friends Don’t Let Friends Play Triple Zero Roulette” (available at BobbyVegas.com), many have succumbed to the wheel’s siren call.

Basically, it’s fun — if you like throwing your money away, that is.

And the casinos love the 20%-plus average hold even more than the 5.2% edge. Of course, as we know, the casinos weren’t satisfied with that enormous edge.

No. And aware that most roulette players don’t know the edge from, well, the hole in the ground where (as John Prine once sang) “ … all the money goes,” corporate came up with a brilliant idea: “Let’s add anutha numbah! Yeah!!

Better yet, let’s not make it obvious there even is another number on the wheel! Yeah!”

Since there already are the dreaded green 0 and 00 (and though I consider them two more numbers on the wheel, most players moan when they come up, as they probably weren’t playing them), corporate added a third green, 000, as the new number. Yeah!

Finally, being the crafty bastids they are, they didn’t label it 000. Oh no. That would make it way too obvious that they’d increased the house edge to almost 8%. Instead, they disguised it as the casino’s symbol on the top of the layout and on the wheel, so it’s now the Venetian, Golden Nugget, Wynn, or whatever.

So unsuspecting players who assume they’re looking at a double-zero game are actually playing triple zero and watching the money disappear even faster.

So I’m at the Wynn talking to my old dealer buddy. He often mans the roulette wheel at Center Court. It’s a $50 game that the players are just shoveling money onto. As we’re chatting, I suddenly realize it’s triple zero. At a $50 table! That means the edge is costing almost $4 a spin!

I mutter a comment and my bud just shrugs and shakes his head toward the players oblivious to the carny game they’re playing with such relish. But this corporate greed pissed me off.

So you might find stickers appearing around town that say, “Friends Don’t Let Friends Play Triple Zero Roulette.” I might even make a Bobby Vegas T-shirt out of it.

I wonder how the Gaming Commission allows such a brazen alteration to a well-known game with the player none the wiser. Hmmm … I’m going to look into that.