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In view of the lamentable results at Newbury's 'Winter Festival' ( :^0 ) I hve recieved numerous requests from 'The Fraternity' to reprint this cautionary tale that first made a appearance six years ago.
This is the story of Paddy the Bold,
Who travelled up North to seek riches untold.
He worked like a navvy, he swore like a squaddie
(Remaining quite pure both in mind and in body.)
After three years of this he was making a mint,
(But had genuine prospects of ending up skint)
So with tears in his eyes but a laugh at his mouth
Twas goodbye to the North as he headed back South.
It wasn't much longer than anyone knew,
He teamed up with a rascal named Arthur Mulgrew
Together they set about making a pile
(With panache and pizzaz, chichi, chutzpah and style.)
They worked night and day at the dogs and the horses
At Plumpton and Goodwood and other such courses,
Before many years of our time had gone by
They had wedges of boodle a hundred feet high.
At this Paddy Mayne gave a wink and a smirk,
And promptly decided on giving up work
But just as this commendable goal was in sight,
They knocked it all out in one miseable night.
Poor Paddy and Art (a friend sadly confides)
Now both had the arse hanging out of their strides
They looked at each other and counting to ten,
Decided on starting all over again.
The moral is simple for those that want lolly
Fast cars and loose women, and bottles of Bolly.
If you want to buy pictures of Old Mills at Flatford
Then don't bet at Newbury, Folkstone or Catford!
Ten years to the day! :)
This is the story of Paddy the Bold,
Who travelled up North to seek riches untold.
He worked like a navvy, he swore like a squaddie
(Remaining quite pure both in mind and in body.)
After three years of this he was making a mint,
(But had genuine prospects of ending up skint)
So with tears in his eyes but a laugh at his mouth
Twas goodbye to the North as he headed back South.
It wasn't much longer than anyone knew,
He teamed up with a rascal named Arthur Mulgrew
Together they set about making a pile
(With panache and pizzaz, chichi, chutzpah and style.)
They worked night and day at the dogs and the horses
At Plumpton and Goodwood and other such courses,
Before many years of our time had gone by
They had wedges of boodle a hundred feet high.
At this Paddy Mayne gave a wink and a smirk,
And promptly decided on giving up work
But just as this commendable goal was in sight,
They knocked it all out in one miseable night.
Poor Paddy and Art (a friend sadly confides)
Now both had the arse hanging out of their strides
They looked at each other and counting to ten,
Decided on starting all over again.
The moral is simple for those that want lolly
Fast cars and loose women, and bottles of Bolly.
If you want to buy pictures of Old Mills at Flatford
Then don't bet at Newbury, Folkstone or Catford!
Ten years to the day! :)
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Best of luck wherever you are today.
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VG PM. I've seen what you mean.
At least you can't do it at Catford anymore. (I got the package, btw - Just in time, thanks) |
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The above is the Lament of Paddy Mayne
He tells you that Bookmaking is all strife and pain As he jumps in the latest of his new Jags Smoking his Cigars instead of just Fags Can you now all hear the Violins start to take up the strain :D :D |
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vg PM :)
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ps:- we love you Paddy
any chance of a loan :D |
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feck off
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give him his tables back !!
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They're chairs Joe.. and still in the car! :D
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The Car that never moves ...on his drive you mean PM :^0
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