No sugar plum choc coated fairies, Sherlock. You’re a genius.
They are genius’s these people who run racing in Victoria.
Once upon a time not very long ago they laughed at Peter V’Landys, and called him silly little boys and girls stupid names.
That silly posh-arse tart from Flemington Amanda Elliott, who was born in a silver spoon in her mouth and has only ever taken it out to put something else there, thought she was being clever calling PVL a short man, as if being the product of your birth and your proud heritage is something to be ashamed of.
If he was a lesser man V’Landys would have replied with something like “I’d rather be Brad Pitt’s height than look like an old leather bag that had been left out in the rain for twenty years, and has a nose like a pumpkin and a head like a prune to boot”, but my mate Pete’s not that sort of bloke. He prefers to parry soft punches, and throw back liver punches that hurt.
So he just played a straight bat and said oh, well, if she wants to resort to silly games that’s her issue, I’m just going to keep focused on winning. And he did, and he has, and now everyone in the racing hierarchy in Victoria breaks into a cold sweat at the mention of the great man’s name, and now they are all squabbling among themselves and can’t even agree on something so simple and no-braining as the Cup being run on the first Tuesday in November.
With Giles Thompson in charge of Racing Victoria it’s really no wonder at all.
Guileless Giles has come up with a way to get owners back to the races.
In his crazy, mixed-up world view its the owners who keep racing going, not the punters.
I’m both, and I can tell you which one funds racing, and its not the purchase price or the training fees paid to battlers with millions of dollars of grandad or dad’s money in their kicks, that is for absolute sure.
Guileless doesn’t hang around with dirty unwashed punters much though. Their non-Armani adornments don’t really push his buttons, and t-shirts, jeans and sneakers aren’t much his go, even if they are the master punter Zjelko’s, who could buy and sell the whole VRC and MRC committees out of his kid’s lunch money, and still have plenty left over for a couple of ice blocks after school.
No, Guileless prefers the rare air of committee rooms to the sweaty lower oxygen-thief layer filled by people who frequent TAB’s, so all his upside down views of the racing world are informed and shaped by the toffee-nosed Nigel and Nigella no-friends who try to find people who will talk or listen to them by hanging out in the member’s area dressed up like peacocks trying to impress a bunch of galahs.
Racing Victoria’s grand plan to get the people back to the track has been unveiled, and its basics are very simple.
If they spend any of their own money that might get pumped back into racing, keep the bastards off.
Guileless sent a mate of mine and fellow racehorse owner a personally addressed computer generated bulk email about the glittering future he has in store for racing yesterday.
Sadly the computer must have been been playing up, because the salutation was not Dear (Archie), or Dear (Mr Butterfly).
It was dear Archibald Jeebung.
The imbecile has just insulted every owner of a Victorian trained horse in the world by personally addressing them by their first and middle names.
God love him.
It got better though.
This is the guts of how it rolled.
Dear (Archibald Jeebung)
We really value owners. Your support is what has kept racing going. Even if you don’t punt or pay admission fees. That doesn’t matter. It’s all about you.
So. to recognise that, here’s the deal.
You can come and watch your horse race, but you have to:
- be here no earlier than 15 minutes before the start of the race
- not bring your husband, wife, mum, dad, mate or any other guest
- not sit withing cooee of any other bugger, or talk to them (no shouting is allowed in the members, for reasons of etiquette and being real couth
- not go anywhere near the stables or the saddling enclosure
- not talk to your trainer or jockey
- not sit near or talk to anyone else, other than your fellow owners, as long as there are only 10 of them and you stand at 1.5 metre intervals in a circle well away from me, Amanda and Mike Symons, and miles away over on the grass near the dunnies in the pouring winter rain
- piss off immediately within 15 minutes of your camel crossing the line
On top of that (Archibald Jeebung), because we value you so much and care, we are going to give you these beauties
- no grog
- no soft drink, juice, tea or coffee
- no racebook
- no pen
- no food
- no trophy presentation
- no TAB, tote or bookies (don’t worry too much about that, I will give you the boys at my old work Betfair’s number, and you can punt with them instead – they pump plenty back into the racing game – in Zanzibar or something I think)
- no access to the owners room (that’s only for Amanda, me and Mike; Mike’s mate Robert Smerdon would be there with us, but the rotters won’t let him on the course; it’s to do with an off warning or QD or something like that)
- bugger all at all really, except for half an hour at the track
You gotta love that don’t you (Archibald Jeebung)?
Don’t fret about the things you have lost though, concentrate your mind on the journey ahead, and all the things that you have gained.
NRL club members are in exactly the same boat as you are, and being treated as mere spectators just the same. Well sort of anyway, they are getting free tickets in, can keep their corporate boxes as long as they are properly socially distanced, and there will be 10 000 people allowed in to watch the Roosters play the Storm.
But would you really want to? Amanda and I wouldn’t lower ourselves to such a base pursuit, and I am sure you won’t wish to either.
One thing I can guarantee you is that you won’t be subjected to that ridiculous thermal testing nonsense that V’Landys is insisting on to keep punters safe.
What a ridiculous waste of money that is. They’re all on the dole anyway those gamblers. Let the bastards get Coronavirus and die. It will save us paying them the double dole so they can punt it all away, and it will mean more money for me and all the other staff I’ve got enrolled in the Jobkeeper. Everyone else is doing it, so why not us?
Thank you for sticking with us (Archibald Jeebung). You’re a rather magnificent quality of well-bred cove, and we love you like brothers, even if we can’t quite remember your name. If you have a billion plus in the bank, Amanda may love you even more. Send me a copy of your bank balance and I will slip her your number.
Oh, and one last thing.
I pinkie-promise to keep my previous pinkie-promise to tell you at some indeterminate date in perhaps early July how much we are going to slash from prizemoney, and reiterate my unspoken promise not to tell you why.
A glittering future for Victorian racing lies ahead (Archibald Jeebung).
Yours in vacuous ignorance
Guiless Giles T
Editor’s note: This was (Archibald Jeebung)’s reply.
You’re a d-head who has all but one thing wrong.
A glittering future for Victorian racing does indeed lie ahead.
In New South Wales.
Ping off you fool