The Good, the Even Better, the Bad, the Ugly, the Really Ugly, the Cardinal Sinner About to Get Off, and the Racing Integrity Commissioner Gondwanaland During the Coronavirus Crisis

The Rosehill Track

Not again.

Yeah, again.

What the hell was that track at Rosehill yesterday?

Crap, that’s what.

How hard is it to produce a course proper that plays fair?

If Navesh Ramdhani can’t, then perhaps its time that he found another job, because this jut isn’t good enough, no not at all.

Verry Ellegant

The only winner of the day who did it against the pronounced bias.

Sure, she didn’t beat much; but gee she did it like a good horse.

Addeyyab’s form looks better and better by the second.

Is there anything in the world that can beat the English Stayer in the Queen Elizabeth Stakes?

I don’t think so.

Hayes, Hayes, Dabernig – The Three Stooges

I have long been critical of the HHD training trio, and for good reason too.

They are a bunch of silver spooned, toffee nosed private school boys who had Lindsay Park and Agaston handed to them on a silver platter, and they’ve stuffed it all up.

God only knows what the gross value of the yearlings that pass through their stable doors each year is, but it’s gigantic. Yet they don’t train winners of anything much at all unless they do it with a horse that they’ve acquired from someone else, they don’t win Slippers or Blue Diamonds, and their strike rate is absolutely shite.

David Hayes is the only one of the three who even has the slightest clue about what he’s doing, and he’s about to sail ship to Honkers for good and leave his earnest and erstwhile son, and his more useless than an anorexic cow without tits nephew to it.

They will sink like stones.

And deserve to too.

How could an operation as well-resourced and supposedly professional as theirs stuff up so calamitously as they did when they presented the wrong horses to race at Bendigo yesterday?

It beggars belief.

So does the fact that anyone still sends their horses to be trained by this trio of clowns.

What Could the Kid Do?

There’s been a lot of conjecture about Baylee Nothdurft’s ride on Snappy Reply in race 1 at Doomben yesterday, with the inference being that he cost the horse victory by putting the whip away at about the 150 metre mark when it was a couple of lengths in front.

It’s all nonsense.

It wouldn’t have mattered whether Nothdurft had gone to sleep on Snappy Reply, or whether he’d flogged the crap put of it, or even if he hired a helicopter and airlifted the horse to the finishing line, Minjee would have beaten it anyway. It was going three to its one, and five to every other runner in the race’s stride.

Robert Heathcote’s youngster is good, real good.

That’s why it won, and it will win many more too.

Snappy Reply won’t.

And it won’t be Baylee Nothdurft’s fault.

Jimmy Orman is no Mug – Command ‘n’ Conquer isn’t Either

The first time jockey Jimmy Orman laid eyes on Steve Tregea’s 3-year-old geldng Command and Conquer was when he ran second to it in a trial at Toowoomba five weeks ago.

Orman had made the long trek to Clifford Park in the dark to ride the ill-fated potential top-liner Gem of Scotland in that filly’s trial on the same day, but immediately after seeing the big lug of a thing’s rump staring at him when it sat three wide and won under quadruple wraps with its head on its chest Orman decided that he wanted in to Command ‘n’ Conquer, and in he got.

Luck’s a fortune in racing like in any walk of life, but you make your own, and if Orman had been one of those show ponies who ride a few winners and then lie in bed in the morning and expect the gun mounts to walk to his door, then he would never have by almost accident become the chosen rider for this superstar in the making.

Jimmy Orman is not like that though. He is one of the hardest working hoops in the business, and doesn’t sleep in. He rides pretty good too, as we all saw today, and as those who watch have been seeing for years.

Command ‘n’ Conquer is good, really, really, really good.

So is James Orman.

Together I reckon they just might win a Group 1.

You heard it here first.

Ho Ho Ho – It’s the J-Mac Show

I wax lyrical about J-Mac every week, and it is because he deserves it.

What a rider this young man truly is.

His four winners today paid almost 300-1 if you had multied them.

The kids a genius.

George Moore?


Gailo Chop

This French son of a German has won $4.4 million and done everything that any owner could ask of their horse, so why do his connections keep running him around like he’s a plough mule?

Give poor Gailo a break.

Hes 9-years-old now, and hasn’t won in two years, and on today’s ten plus length shellacking in the last at Rosehill he is not likely to either, not unless the Birdsville Cup becomes a WFA event anyway.

Continuing to race this magnificent beast when he should be chomping on lush, green grass and telling his geriatric paddock-mates tales about his glory days in the racing sun is just downright animal cruelty.

Do the right thing owners.

Retire him now.

Unlike old Gailo Chop, the former Bookie King of the Brisbane Rails Ring Lindsay Gallagher shows no signs of slowing down anytime soon, not if the win of Sophie’s Gold Class at Doomben yesterday is any indication anyway.

Word is that the indefatigable chaser of a point or seven over the odds cleaned up big time when his very handy and extremely well-placed mare went back to back by braining them in the first leg of the Quaddie yesterday, reportedly nailing the win bets, the quinella, the exacta, the trifecta, the first four, triple trio and the quaddie itself, as well as laying the rest of the field for plenty.

The only question that still remains about the boy from Wide Bay is how much he can take with him when one day in about half a century he clocks out as the oldest living trots punter in human history.

Whatever price the satchel swingers post, you can be sure that Lindsay Gallagher will get a couple of points over.

Finger in Dykes and Hand Over Racing Writers Eyes

It seems that many wide-eyed racing writers are running a hundred miles an hour for cover after having written a bible’s worth of ill-researched ‘road to redemption’ stories about the Alligator’s trainer in recent times.

Never believe the bullshit web that a junkie spins you is my advice to the wet behind the ears self-said journos who wouldn’t know a reformation from a small plastic cup of OJ mixed with Methadone is my advice to them all.

And I top it with a question.

How come Boom-Boom Benny Currie got sin-binned on suspicion, and DVD is allowed to train on despite near certainty?

Answer it if you can, or if you will.

Trainer of the Week

Ron Quinton.

His effort to even get Royal Celebration back on the track after a break of almost a year was sensational, and his work in getting the horse back into the winner’s stall was simply sensational.

Quinton was a great jockey, and he is just as good a trainer too.

Simply brilliant.

Metro Meetings at the Provincials

God only knows why Racing Victoria continues in its ill-guided quest to run metro meetings at mid-week tracks, for all it is doing is costing them a fortune and eroding punter confidence in their brand.

Mornington last Saturday was a debacle, and Bendigo yesterday was just as bad. Turnover was down a mile, the races were rubbish, no-one was interested and no-one cared.

Why, why, why?

Speaking of Why

Why do they still bother running races in South Australia?

And why does anybody bother betting on them?

It’s a joke, and so is Frances Nelson QC who runs it.

Shut up shop and redistribute the prize money to jurisdictions that know how to manage it properly by progressing a sport I say.

Speaking of Jokes

Queensland has the casting vote on the Racing Australia board.

It doesn’t matter what the SA, WA, or combined Tassie, NT and ACT directors do – if Queensland aligns itself with one or the other of NSW or Victoria the combined vote carries the day.

And our rep is the Whirlwind, stockbroker Steve Wilson, who has about as much interest in racing as I do in Sydney’s Gay Mardi Gras.

God help racing is all that I can say.

Has Peter V’Landys Bitten Off More Than He Can Chew?


No further explanation required.

Will the Coronavirus Kill Queensland’s Country Racing Model?


Is It a Bad Thing?


At least not if you are country Queensland’s great defender Gary Gorrie who actually lives in South-East Asia anyway.

The Boy They Painted Black is Back – Big Time

I am an unabashed fan of the young jockey Michael ‘Mickey’ Murphy, and at the same time often his greatest critic.

Unlike those who criticise me for telling the truth about the kid’s faults and highlighting the inevitable path down which a continuation of his repeat mistakes is going to lead Mickey, I have no financial skin in the game. I don’t cop 25% of Mick’s earnings as his apprentice master, and I don’t skim 12.5% of his winnings as my jockey managers fee, and I don’t suck on the fat of the young bloke’s bones either.

I just like the lad.

I like him a lot, and don’t want to see such a rare talent piss his career down the drain because no bastard is game enough to stand up and say “Oi Mickey, what a pity, you’re in the big city, here’s the nitty gritty” and help the kid out.

All you cop is abuse for trying to be a good guy, but do you know what?

I couldn’t give a rats arse what blokes who are supposed to guide and mentor young men but let them down say. All I want is to see good young men do well.

Murphy hasn’t over the past year, but rivers flow forward and the past is in our behinds where it should be, and after a long self-inflicted run of outs and near career ending rut, my mate little Mickey Murphy jockey extraordinaire is back.

Big time.

Mick has been finding rides hard to come by recently, but he had three at Warwick yesterday.

And he won them all.

Welcome back sunshine – we’ve been missing you.

Long may the winners roll.

Who Needs a Boom Boom When You’ve Got a Boof?

Ben Currie might be in the sin bin after being sentenced to a long spell, and he might well be back soon after the tribunal throws out the ill-evidenced DQ that he was unfairly slapped with if he really wants to, but my advice to the young fella would be to stick the beaches and chasing waves.

After all, who needs junior causing ripples when you can have his much more taciturn old man kicking your goals?

Boof – aka Mark Currie, Boom Boom’s dad and teacher – is absolutely on fire at the moment, and everything he is touching is turning to gold.

Currie Senior’s winning strike rate is 20%, his horses have won nearly a million bucks in prize money, he’s sitting third on the provincial trainers premiership ladder, and he’s lead home the victor in six of his past fifteen starts, which equates to a 40% winner to starter ration for those of you without a calculator.

Best of all is that as the most watched, tapped and covertly followed by integrity spooks trainer in Queensland, he’s obviously done it squeaky clean too.

Put that one in your pipe Commissioner and critics, and smoke it.

Talking About Pipes, Smoking and Comebacks ….

A decade ago Queensland jockey Brent Evans was the hottest apprentice in town.

Then, like so many slightly too heavy hoops before and after him, the Ice got Evans.

In 2017 Evans was swabbed and returned a positive to the dreaded meth, and it appeared for all money that his riding career was all over red rover; but winners don’t quit and quitters don’t win.

Brent Evans has been battling around the back blocks of NSW since the QRIC scrubbed him instead of help putting him into rehab, and he’s been doing it tough. But the frost has broken, and b-b-b-baby the boy is back.

Sure, it was only the Murrumbidgee picnics that Brent took by the scruff of the neck and slayed yesterday, but a treble is a treble in anyone’s language, and the former gun kid turned troubled youngster turned reformed character rode one, and all power to him too.

The tide has turned.

Let’s hope it turns into a tsunami of winners.

George Pell

Boredom has led to me reading the transcripts of Pell’s application to the High Court for leave to appeal his conviction, and I have to tell you something that many won’t like.

Pell is an absolute certainty to get off, and be released from prison the moment that the High Court judgement is handed down.

In fact, having read the whole word for word copy of the proceedings, you would just about have to say that the Cardinal Sinner has been on the wrong end of one of the most absurd miscarriages of justice in the history of the Australian criminal law.

This is coming from me, a child sex abuse victim who knows that Pell covered a gazillion crimes up, and is a criminal for doing so. But there was no law then like there is now to brand him as such, and you can’t send a bloke to jail for offences that he was guilty of, but which didn’t exist.

It’s a fucked up world, and people like George Pell and his Vatican forebears made it that way., and I wish them all a hot forever in hell.

You can’t be banged up for a crime when there is a reasonable doubt about you doing it though, and there is more uncertainty about Pell doing what he’s been convicted of than there is about David Van Dyke being a drug cheat, which means the doubts are plenty.

The damages bill for wrongful imprisonment is going to be colossal.

The damage to society by the restoration of Pell’s reputation as a man of God is going to be even greater.

Say It Ain’t So Roscoe, Say It Ain’t So

The mail is that during these, the darkest days in the sport’s history, the man in charge of racing integrity has gone on holidays.

It’s the QRIC Commissioner Ross Barnett that I’m talking about, and my excellent sources in George Street tell me that while Rome burns all around him, the boss is doing a Christine Nixon on Black Friday or Scomo in the bushfires and lounging around somewhere with 17.5% leave loading added to his bulky pay.

Surely these sources are wrong.

No leader would possibly think it apt to take it on the lam while the palace walls are falling down all around them.

Would they?

Perhaps we will have to ask the Acting Commissioner Mark Ainsworth why exactly he is acting.

Maybe he might tell us where Ross the Boss is while he is at it.




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