Burning Spear's Punting Adventures. And Other Stuff Too.

1    LOSING SPEAR

This all started in Sydney 1987. I was living then as I am today in Waterloo. A chaotic time for me when punting ruled and drinking and partying came a short half head second. My punting plan was quite successful. A la Don Scott I would frame my own markets and bet the overs. I’m talking Sydney trots. I also knew a few people in the game and sometimes got some useful information. Knowing who was going to lead in advance can certainly alter the market.I was also mates with a trainer driver who enjoyed moderate success at the time but was very reliable when he had something good. I went to the trots four and sometimes even five times a week. There was no Sky. You had to see things for yourself.I also used to go to the races several times a week and went ok. I didn’t do the form but I had a mate that was heavily into it (more about him soon) and also I had a fair idea having watched them so much. All in all I’d been quite successful for a long time.

The story begins though when that success was going south. My 10/1 overs were getting beaten a head. I could only find 4/6 for my 6/4 shots. My each ways would come fourth. My quinellas would come 1st and third. Normally a disciplined punter I would have some frustration bets that naturally would lose. My trips to the gallops were just as futile. My mate was faring no better. We’d have the odd winner but not enough to stem the tide. My punting bank was dwindling away to nothing. The prospect of getting a job terrified me. Well not really. That was never gunna happen but that’s the kind of pressure I was under. I think it was December 1987 when in one week I went to Bankstown Monday,HP Tuesday,and Penrith Thursday. I also went to Canterbury on Wednesday and Gosford on Thursday. I had something like 25 bets and one winner at 5/2. Surely this run couldn’t continue. I felt good on Friday and looked forward to a big one at Headquarters.

3    Melissa

We shot out of HP faster than a dog track rabbit and headed into the city. First stop was the Edinburgh Castle where we celebrated our looming bankruptcy with schooners and tequilas. We powered on hitting more pubs and clubs. I won’t bore you with the details suffice to say that a catastrophic amount of alcohol was drank that night aided and abetted by rampant amphetamine abuse.

Around 9am we found ourselves on the doorstep of a tiny terrace house in Glebe. This was where my girlfriend lived. Melanie. She was younger than me. She was studying at Syd Uni. Her second degree she’d already done one. I can’t remember what it was. Her parents paid the rent on this sh1thole in Glebe for her to live in. This was before dumps like this were worth 1.5 million or whatever.  I’d met Melanie at the races even though she doesn’t like the races and never goes. I don’t see much of her if I’m honest. I see her every Sunday. There was no racing on Sundays back then. I’d be nursing a hangover that would send any honest citizen to hospital while having to sit next to her at the movies watching sh1t like Dirty Dancing. She’s a lovely girl. Friendly,kind,affectionate,forgiving (thank god) beautiful. A real little angel. A delicate flower.

Anyway The Champ and I were on her doorstep Saturday morning. It had been a productive night.  I had a fantastic idea for building up my punting bank without getting a job. Also we put our losses behind us and looked forward to Randwick that afternoon. TC would be taking over the reins and I had every faith in him. He was a Captain Of The Turf. A Punting Maestro. I was proud to be called his mate. Standing there I looked across at the Champ with great pride and affection. Granted he wasn’t looking his best right now. He’d had a couple of falls during the night but I felt he retained a dignified air. I felt compelled to tell him how much I loved him.

‘Hey cxnt would you mind not p1ssing on my girlfriends front door?’

‘You got a girlfriend?’ I nodded. ‘She lives here?’ Another nod. ‘Whats her name?’

Melanie….Melanie?....Yeah Melanie. You know her. You’ve met her heaps of times…..You mean Melissa?...No not Melissa yer fxcking retard….oh you mean Melanie. I know her. I love her. I’d like to fxck her. I once fingered her after the last at Rosehill….No you didn’t that was Jenny Westacott….Was it? I love Jenny Westacott. I once fingered her. Fxckin slut.

‘You know what I’m gunna do when my lovely Melissa gets her lazy ass out here and opens this fxcking door? I’m gonna take her in my arms,give her a little kiss,rub her on the Noonni – just the cloth don’t want to be creepy in the morning then Get Her Nips Out.’

Just then the delicate flower opened the front door. ‘Can you two shut the fxck up? Everyone in the street can hear your bullsh1t.’  The Champ lumbered past calling out ‘Honey I’m Home’ while I slowly made my way along the narrow hall one upper arm and shoulder sliding along the wall for support and knocking down one of Mel’s framed prints. Oh fercrissake I heard her mumble. Sorry! I headed straight for the old Kelvinator where I always stock a good supply of Tooheys Draught Twist Tops for just such an occasion. I got some out for me and TC and went to join Melanie. She was wearing a very long t-shirt that she wears to bed and she was watching Rage or whatever that show after Rage is called. She pulled her shirt down more over her legs when she saw The Champ had apparently gone into a state of hypnosis staring at her. He didn’t get the hint. ‘Greg can you stop perving on me you sicko?’  ‘Ok. I was just wondering if maybe one day I can fxck you?’  ‘SPEAR are you gonna let THAT MAN speak to me like that?” What man? Was someone else here? I looked across then realised. ‘You mean TC? Don’t take any notice of him. He’s a misanthropist or a mysoginist or something. He’s taking medications.’  ‘He’s a fxcking drug dealer that I’ve never seen sober .’  ‘Excuse me Melissa can I use your bog?’ The Champ got up and started undoing his trousers  while stumbling towards the bedroom. ‘For fxcks sake get him in the bathroom will you. What have I done to deserve you two arrseholes? I got up and steered The Champ into the bathroom. By this time his trousers were around his ankles but he was no longer able to maintain the perpendicular. He crumpled slowly to the floor and somehow managed to wedge himself between the toilet and the bath. I’m amazed he fit. I jumped out of the way as a stream of p1ss shot forth and hit the bathroom wall. It seemed to go on for minutes. I needed to go myself now. I stood over the bowl and released a satisfying jet. Swaying side to side I sprayed the bowl liberally but as my arc got wider it was inevitable that I would go beyond the bowl and onto The Champ! I let out a giggle. ‘What the fxck are you doing in there? You been in there ages.’ Nothing!

I might continue this later.

"I am not I; thou art not he or she; they are not they."

Woopi -is that you

Mr. Spear.

It has been a while since you posted so perhaps you are unaware of changes to the forum.

The forum is now used exclusively to cut and paste articles freely available in all forms of media for no apparent reason other than to bore the t1ts off anyone unfortunate enough to click on said post.

Please refrain from any independent thought. Such posts are now illegal on the forum.

Monica Monica

Hold fire, Whoopster.

Why not give this wacky independent thought thing a little rope and at least see how it works.

6  Zippy The Pinhead

The “certainty” we had come all the way to Bathurst to back had the most unflattering name of Zippy The Pinhead. I was outraged that such a beautiful and noble beast as the thoroughbred could be demeaned by this dreadful moniker. I got over it. Some of the older readers may remember the horse. HE went on to win a half dozen races in town. This was only his third start a maiden over 1200m. Half fit and half trying he’d run a fourth and a third at his previous two outings .He’d improved out of sight since and the stable were very confident. Jump to the front and LAW. TC told me his mate was reliable. When the money was on they collected. I said let’s check out Zippy for ourselves so we staggered over to the mounting yard. Whoa!! What a horse!! The fxcker is big. And black. So black he sometimes looks silver when the sun shines off him. He looks in top nick no sweating ears pricked looking around but calm. What a sensational looking animal. I’d love to punch whoever gave him that ridiculous name.

We left the yard feeling very confident. I only had a grand left in my Punting Bank. I tried not to think about how my once bulletproof bank had been reduced to chump change. Never would I put the lot on a horse but I knew I had to here. Once the grand was gone all I had left was Beer Money. About $7000 to last me a few weeks. Only joking!! I had beer money but fxck all really. Zippy opened at 5/2 and the bookies nearly got knocked down. Me and the Champ got on at the top odds before he was backed into about 10/9. We fetched a couple of coldies and went out to watch.

The gates crashed open and from barrier two Zippy went straight to the front. The sight of that big black horse with the number 1 on his saddlecloth bounding along in front was a thing of beauty. He was at least a length clear no one challenging. Maybe up on the bit a little. Nothing to worry about though.  On the turn he was two in front and everyone else under the whip. If they had BF back then he’d already be 1.02. I looked back to the pack and saw a chaser emerge. Still not too worried. Zippy had a handy break. The other one was starting to knuckle down now. A horse called The Pompadour.Number 8.  Where do these country dopes get these names?  50 to go and the jock was throwing everything at Zippy. The Pompadour was going faster but the post was nearing. They hit the line and I had no idea. I think our bloke just held on. The Champ was very confident. ‘Yeah he got there. Wouldn’t want another stride but.’ There was no replay to watch. Just had to wait for the numbers to go up. It was taking forever. Fxckin hurry up cxnt!  Finally the numbers went up.   8 1 3.

FXXXXCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

7    The Railway Hotel Bathurst

We went immediately to the Railway Hotel to take stock. The pub is owned by former jockey Edgar Schofield. TC knows him and introduces us. Like all jockeys he is hideously ugly with a bitter disposition. And,needless to say he is a little runt. He disgusts me. TC refers to him as The Cxnt Of Misery. Once the pleasantries are over we get in the schooners. It's going to be a long post mortem I can tell. I am no longer a punter. The Champ is in a foul mood which is not like him at all.  After a few hours of beer and JD and amphetamines we were feeling a bit better. We pondered on where we might head next. TC still had some punting cash so we weren’t totally out of business.

During the course of the evening The Champ managed to be evicted from the pub twice and I myself was thrown out once. Edgar had some difficulty enforcing these bans due to his diminutive stature and us not really understanding what was going on. My eviction I felt was totally unfair. It all began when a grossly obese gentleman invited us to join him in a counter meal. He was a vague acquaintance of the Champ. We both declined. Speed diminishes the appetite. In fact I wondered when I had my last meal. Anyway I had the pleasure of sitting and watching this fatty devour his mixed grill. He was chatting away quite animatedly until his meal arrived then he never said a word or even looked up until the plate was clean. He had a sip of beer and said,'I’ve got to keep my strength up for the rigors of Buggery’ and fixes me with an impertinent stare. I’m thinking what the fxck? Am I in the Taxi Club at 5am? I had a quick peek around to make sure. Then I started to hear a rumbling noise. Like standing on Wynyard station and hearing the approach of a train. Another quick glance around before I realised the noise was coming from the Fat Cxnt. Then he burped. This burp was not the usual kind of burp that might be admired in some cultures as a sign that the meal had been appreciated.This burp sounded like everything he had just eaten was about to reappear in distressingly altered form. A terrible and rancid odour emerged and drifted across the table toward me. Oh Mother of God!!

I tried to ignore it but it was impossible. I sat there submerged in this stench imagining I was in the presence of someone who had just turned himself inside out. I slumped in my chair to his obvious amusement then fell sideways to the floor and lay there.  A few moments later I vomited up a good few schooners and JDs. That’s when The Cxnt Of Misery threw me out. As you can see it was totally unjustified.

I was standing at the bar with the Champ talking sh1t while Edgar cast a lugubrious shadow over us. Just then an absolute Goddess appeared behind the bar. She gave us a quick hello and the briefest of smiles. Then she turned back and reached up for something on a high shelf. I was speechless. She was wearing a small t-shirt and cut off jean shorts. Long hair kind of halfway between brown and blonde. She was up on her tippy toes . I could hear the ice in my JD and Coke shaking as my hand trembled. While I was staring at this vision Edgar was boring his little beady rat eyes on me,veins popping out all over his head. The Champ was staring at Edgar wondering if he might have to hit the little fellow to get him to calm down. Presently I became aware of Edgar’s face near mine as he said,'Oi!! That’s my daughter you're leering at.' I mumbled a sorry but I could barely stop looking. The Champ put his hand on Edgar's shoulder and said 'take it easy little man that’s a good looking girl you gotta expect blokes to have a little peek. No harm done.'  'I don’t take kindly sex fiends perving on my little girl.' 'Hang on a sec mate. She's hardly a little girl and it makes no business sense calling your customers sex fiends. I'm very tempted to throw you through that window you ugly little cxnt. Just get us some beers.' I think this was one of the times the Champ got thrown out temporarily.

I have little recollection of the rest of the night. We rampaged the joint taking over the jukebox,playing pool,I think TC may have had an altercation with Bathurst's only Maori resident. I got no idea how it all ended up. I knew we couldn’t stay in Bathurst long.

8    KYLIE

I woke up in the back of the ute. The ute was going about 100kmh at the time. Cool. I sat up with my back against the cab and watched the highway. Reached into the esky for an icy cold stubby.  Soon I was swigging Jack Daniels straight from the bottle. Vomiting over the side. Passing out. Waking up and doing it again. I had no idea where I was. No idea where The Champ was taking us. I didn’t care. All I cared about was drinking and stewing  about how everything had all got so fxcked up. Sometimes I’d wake up in darkness then realise the Champ had put the tonneau cover over the back. I became entranced by the road. Watching it drift away behind me. White lines yellow lines sometimes cars or trucks behind us. Kenworths and Macks. It all became hypnotic. After a while I didn’t even have thoughts just vague feelings. And always the booze. The lovely booze.

I was laying awake but I hadn’t yet opened my eyes. I wasn’t ready for that yet. I had to think. Where was I? The back of the ute. Pretty sure about that. Is it moving? No. How do I feel? Do I need to vomit? Not at the moment. What’s the Champ doing? How the fxck do I know open your eyes and find out for yourself! I sat with my back against the cab,my usual position and decided to open my eyes. HOLY SH1T!!! Did you see that?? I shut my eyes. Fxck me you better lay off the drink this is getting bad. You’re hallucinating. The Champ looks just like a hot young woman.  Try again. I opened my eyes. She’s still there!! Smiling at me. ‘Feeling better?’  ‘Ahhh ….yeah. I think.’ She sat there in the back of the ute facing me her back against the tailgate. She was the most beautiful  thing I’d ever seen. I had no explanation for her presence here and had a worrying feeling I was about to wake up from a dream. Then I had a moment of clarity. ‘Where’s The Champ,TC,you know,Greg Champion,my mate?’  ‘Oh him. I dunno. Last I saw he was on the floor in the Gents. We couldn’t move him.’ I see. This cleared up one thing but invited more questions. What Gents and who is ‘we’.  I pondered that for a while. I was beginning to think I knew this woman from somewhere but I couldn’t remember where. Automatically I reached into the esky for another beer. We appeared to be parked at some empty sporting field. I looked up at the sky and wondered whether it was the beginning of the day or the end. I think the end. I wondered what the Champ is doing now. I thought about Melanie. Would I ever see her again? Doubt it. I wonder what my Mum would think if she could see me now.

I was nearly finished my second beer when I suddenly remembered there was somebody with me in the ute. I’d forgotten all about so lost I was in my own thoughts. When I looked at her I was somewhat disconcerted to see her staring at me. When our eyes met she flashed on a smile. Sh1t!! I hope she’s not from a cult or something. That might at least explain her presence. Maybe I should find out what’s going on here. ‘What’s your name?’ ‘I'm Kylie. Don’t you remember me? We met at the Pub? The Railway Hotel? My Dad owns it.’ YES! That’s where I’d seen her. The Daughter of The Cxnt Of Misery!! I see what’s happening now. This angel was afraid her father would kill me so she drove us to safety and is just waiting for Daddy to calm down. You gotta hand it to these bush types. They really look after people out here. I imagine this young woman has plenty of other things to be doing rather than playing Good Samaritan. I looked on her kindly. I smiled vaguely. I drank some beer and looked at her and smiled some more. She is Fxckin Hot pity she’s some kind of Do-Gooder. Oh well. Them’s the breaks.

‘Hey Spear I was wondering?’  Yeah what?  ‘When are we gunna fxck?’

Melbourne City have just equalised having been 0 - 2 down against Brisbane Roar only a few minutes ago.

I think you'd like this video Burning Spear - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EWWqvAA6ryU

I see.

It's OK

and I think my team - Queen's Park Rangers will lost 1 - 2 at home to Huddersfield Town tonight.

Will lost? What tense is that?

My team Melbourne City has fought back from 2-0 down to be 2-2 with about 20 minutes to go

Not really.

I have a friend in Moldova

who Joel?

It was a cracking game.