JOSEY WALES AND THE OUTLAWS AT AINTREE

There are two Premier Inns in Preston South, one on either side of the road.

Going by Google maps, one used to be a Holiday Inn. 

Who the fack wants to go on holiday in Preston ffs ??!! 

So it was even money which one I drove to first.

I parked and phoned Josey, who was in McDonalds with Arthur and Katie, somewhere near the racecourse.   

I said ‘I’m right opposite Sainsbury’s, am I in the right place ?’

‘Yes;’ he said ‘the entrance to the hotel is through sliding doors.  See you later.’   

I  walked across to the entrance, they weren’t sliding doors.

Bloke on reception said ‘Hello’

I asked him if this was the only entrance he said ’Yes.’

Even money shot - gubbed !!

I got back in the car and drove to the other hotel car park, entered via the sliding doors, and got booked in.

Note to self :  Explain to the apparently highly educated JW the difference between ‘right’ opposite, and ‘diagonally’ opposite. 

Up to my room, and for a pleasant change it wasn’t the furthest one from the lift.

Unpacked and had a cuppa, then went outside for a smoke.

Had a chat with the bird at the reception desk and bet her that my key card would pack up within 24 hours, and told her that Junior would run well in the National, and that Synchronised wouldn’t win. 

50% is better than fack all

Lounged around watching telly until 6-45 then I met Josey in the bar.

ARTHUR  - A WELL KNOWN FACE IN NEWMARKET

There was Arthur walking his dog, Spyder or Spider, I have no idea how a Glaswegian would spell it.
He approached a zebra crossing, where a luxury car stopped for him. I think it was a Roller,  but can’t remember.

Down came the window and a hand popped out and waved, the driver said  ‘Hello Arthur.’

It was Hamdan Al Maktoum

DINNERTIME
How the fack can cod and chips (£10-95p) cost more than steak and chips (£10-45)

I never have steak on the first night away (ritual) so settled for Haddock and chips (£7-45)

Cod is 50% more expensive than Haddock  ? ? ?

Josey asked the waitress for a lamb shank !! and he had only known her for 2 minutes, the bounder !!

Katie had steak, and asked about my fish.

I asked about her steak (another ritual over)

An early night was had by all as were to depart at 8-40 a.m. for the course.

?

Like me, Arthur and Katie don’t do a fried breakfast, but Josey was in the restaurant as I WALKED (yes I can walk) over to Sainsburys for some milk for my WEETABIX at about 7-30 a.m. 

Mrs TMP had packed my mini-fridge in my holdall,  so I had to get a one pint plastic bottle of milk as a two-pinter won’t fit in the fridge.

The garage only sold 2 and 4 pint bottles so I had to walk an extra 50 yards to the supermarket ffs.

It’s a big supermarket, so, to avoid walking around looking and save time, and also my energy,  I asked the nearest member of staff, who was a man of about 30 -35 years of age,  he was just inside the door, arranging flowers…

‘Morning‘ I growled, in my dulcet tones ‘could you point me towards the milk aisle please.’ 

‘Yes sir, follow me.‘  he said.

If he had said ‘Walk this way’ ..

I’d have said ‘If I do I’ll  be arrested ’  . . . (the old ones are the best)

‘Seventh aisle on the left’  would have sufficed,  but he escorted me all the way, and then he spread his arms to show me the display ‘Single pints on top, 2s in the middle, 4s on the bottom, a choice of semi-skimmed, skimmed  and full fat.’ 

I said  ‘Ta mate,‘ and he wandered off, back to his flowers…bless him… 

When I got back to the hotel I found that I only had 6 WEETABIX in my holdall.  Not much use for 3 breakfasts. I ate 2 and accompanied them with 2 chocolate bars, purely for energy purposes of course, and another cuppa.

Off to the course at 8-40 and into the thieving scousers car park (£20 a day) opposite the course gates at 9-20 a.m.

Off to the course at 8-40 and into the thieving scousers car park (£20 a day) opposite the course gates at 9-20 a.m.

Only operating one pitch on Thursday meant that not a lot of stuff had to be lugged in.

We were first in the queue, but even though they open the gates to bookies at 9-30, there was no sniffer dog there to have a go at our stuff. 

’It’s on its way’ the woman said. 

By the time it took to get there it must have been ‘on its way’ from facking Haydock.  

Once we got in, it’s a long walk to the Queen Mother Stand, via the ‘drinking and catering village’. That’s the tidiest it looks all day, it’s a right mess by the time we get out.   

Thursdays are pretty quiet at this meeting. 

Alex Ferguson walked by our pitch with 4 others who meant nothing to me either.  I should have taken a photo as it’s the only  timer I’ve seen him NOT  chewing gum.

I asked Arthur if we would lay Big Bucks,  he said  ‘Yes we’ll lay that here. No worries.’

As betting got under way,  Arthur accommodated the first fearless punter to step form the crowd…he had a tenner on it at 1/5

Another one had two and a half quid each way ffs

As the race  went off Arthur said ‘ I told ye we’d lay it.’  and smiled

The day passed without incident until we were on the way out.

It’s just over 700 paces from the pitch  to the car, through a crowd of pi$$heads,  and trying to push a wheelbarrow or drag a trolley across the sea of empty plastic ‘glasses’ is a nightmare when one gets stuck under the wheels.

I usually start off well and get clear of the gang, but the slight incline before  the ‘drink and catering village’ does for me every time. I tire quickly and get caught before the gate, and by the time they get to the cars, I’m lagging 50 yards behind.

As we cross the Ormskirk Road we are at right angles to the crowd coming from the south.  Katie was carrying the joint umbrella, which is bright red with a bright red shaft.  A dopey facker who looked like a 6 feet tall version of Woody Allen was either blind or just plain stupid.  He walked straight across Katie’s path,  and got done on the bottom of the nose with the  umbrella shaft.   

That was the highlight of my day.

Back at the hotel I sat in my room and sorted out the days pay-outs before dinner.

Steak and chips was wolfed down, and after some light hearted chat Josey went to bed early-ish as he usually does,. Me and Katie went outside for a smoke while  Arthur sucked on a nicotine lozenge of some sort.

I had consumed my quota of drink for the night, a pint and a half of orange juice, and at about 11-00 p.m. I hit the sack.

Up at 6-30 a.m. I had a few biscuits with a cuppa, then went outside for a smoke. 

At 8-15 I ate the last 4 WEETABIX, which meant a trip to Sainsburys on Saturday morning.

8-40 a.m. departure on Friday, an easy journey to the course, sniffer dogs did their job and as we walked to our pitch we saw James May fart arsing about with a camera crew. 

He didn’t ask for my autograph…so fack him..I didn’t ask for his

I was at our pitch outside The Queen Mother Stand by 10-00 a.m.  Arthur and Katie were away down the far end to stand near The Chair, where Josey had taken some of their gear from the car. 

Chairman Cat (wee Richie) was arriving by train, coach or something. He had to be at Glasgow statiion by 6-15 a.m. to get here.   

Jenny and Matt were driving up from London. 

Ann (‘She who must be obeyed’ at Wales Mansions) and Julie (never met her before) were coming from ‘arrogit.  Ann and Julie got there first, and only after Julie had her photo taken with James May we eventually got a cuppa.

Jenny arrived about 30 minutes later, which meant Matt was down the far end near Arthur.  Chairman Cat arrived at some unknown point before the first race and went with Arthur and co. 

I had 3 doubles and a treble in the on-course Betfred shop, where the law doesn’t apparently apply, as there were loads of people drinking alcohol in there.

My first horse was Darlan, which was a good start.

As if working in the rain doesn’t put you in a bad enough mood we come to the

ATTEMPTED SCAM OF THE MEETING
There are only two ways a paid ticket can find its way into the hands of a member of the public, in this instance, a scamming facking scouser, what a surprise !!

Either he squeezed between me and the bookie on the pitch next to us, and took the ticket from the payout spike, or it stuck to my fingers, which were wet with rain, and when I thought I had put it on the payout spike, it was stuck to the back of a wad of £20 notes

Anyway, we paid over £300 on a ticket on the winner.  A few minutes later this scouser appears with a winning ticket for the same amount.  I took it off him and immediately noticed that there was a hole in the middle. I checked the payout list, there was only one entry for over £300 I said ‘This has been paid already, and there’s a hole in the middle of the ticket, it’s come from our spike. ‘

The reply, in the best English the coont could manage  was ‘Wha’’

I repeated what I had said.

‘This is my bet. How can it be paid out ?’  he said, with his voice getting louder.

I showed him the payout list and the only entry for over £300, and that had already been paid, and crossed though.

Jenny turned around and told him  ’ Sir’  (she’s much more polite than me)  this was paid a few minutes ago, it has a hole in the ticket where it has been spiked. We can’t pay it again.’

(We can, but we facking won't)

He got more vociferous as he was trying it on, while I said quite calmly. ‘I’m not paying it twice, go and find the ring inspector.’

He could see he was getting nowhere despite all his shouting, and moved away from me and started harassing Jenny.  In the issue of the ticket going to and fro, he tore it so that the hole in the middle was no longer visible.   

Jenny explained to him about 4 times what had happened but he wasn’t having it, and continued shouting as if one of us was going to buckle under and pay him. 

After a few more answers all politely preceded by ‘Sir’, Jenny told him to go and find the ring inspector or call the police.   

He walked off and we never saw him again, the scamming coont.

RIDDLE TIME

What’s orange, can’t walk in stiletto heels or platform shoes, wears a dress 2 sizes too small, and has eyelashes that are liable to blind you from 3 feet away ?

£200 for an outfit that doesn’t fit, £100 for shoes they can’t walk in, a tan that runs down their arms/legs/shoulders when it rains,  a fiver a drink and over £30 to get in, and they want bets of £2-50 each way on 4/6 shots.   

Yes…it’s  ‘Ladies Day’….. ffs

All the dogs of war had £5 wins on  long odds on  shots,  and when they come to get their wonga,  if you say ‘it’s included’ to the often asked question  ‘Do  I get me stake bacchhhh’ they look at you as though you are mad. 

Which I am

After  the coont of a scouser had gone and the payout queue had died down, I  decided it was nosebag time, and was looking forward to a smoked ham and mustard sandwich.

I rummaged about under the table, because that’s where I had left it,but it was gone.

I espied the empty packet on Josey’s side of the joint, on the floor.

I got just reward  for Josey nicking my chocolate a few years ago. He had eaten a double ham sandwich, but the one meant for him, that he missed, was a triple chicken sandwich.

It hadn’t escaped my attention that any bird that scored more than 7 on the good-looking and well dressed scale, was sober. 

The more of a mess they were, the drunker they got. 

The weather forecast, in any language, was for rain, so where was the facking sense in wearing a dress that dragged on the floor ? 

You always know when a nice looking bird is walking by, even though you cant see her because of crowd numbers, the mens heads all turn to look at her arse.

This bird

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http://i43.tinypic.com/2pyrqq0.jpg

highly recognisable from the Daily Mail ‘Ladies Gallery‘ had a bet with us. At the front of the payout queue she dropped a pound on the floor.  As gentlemanly as ever, I ignored it much to the amusement of nearby men when she bent down to pick it up.

Apart from rain, the rest of the days business went without hitch.

How do you get somebody to come up a good 45 minutes after the last race with a winning ticket ? 

Easy ! You bag up all the coins,  wrap up the cash,  put it in the case, then you zip up the case and get ready to go.

Then, and only then,  will somebody come for money, without fail.  He got paid from my pocket, but I told him not to worry if any of the  tenners had the same serial number !! 

He laughed, but he still checked them.

Another nightmare dragging the trolley over the ‘Plastic Ocean’ and when we got to back to the hotel I laid out all the payout slips everywhere before I could sort them out, as races 1, 2, 3, and part of race 4 were all wet.   The table and the beds were covered in tickets.  I was lucky that  it didn’t rain for  races 5, 6 and 7 !!!

I checked my horse bet results -  Darlan 7/4 winner, then something that was beaten at 11-10 in an amateur riders handicap, by a facking 16-1 shot   - and a non-runner.

I think I had steak again for dinner, I can’t remember.

Julie sat next to me, and we were sitting opposite Arthur and Chairman Cat (Richie). Julie said she understands them if they speak to her, but when they speak to each other, she doesn’t understand a word.

She was preoccupied earlier with the delights of some Spanish singer. I asked who he was, she said ’He’s Juan’ and I replied ’Richie’s one too.’     

That was as wasted there as it’s going to be here        

I took a guess and said ‘I bet he’s not that tall’ she said I was right, he was tiny, but she still wants to marry him.

Thank fack all women have different taste.

I asked Richie where Rab C. Nesbitt’s Govan was

This led him to tell Arthur how I had pronounced Govan, which was  Go-varn

I then discovered that it’s pronounced the same as the English word, 'govern'.

I learn something new every day, none of it’s any facking good to me, but it’s new all the same.

I had a smoke outside with Chairman Cat and Katie, said goodnight to whoever was left in the restaurant, then headed off to sort out the dried out payout tickets.

Just before midnight I was ready for some kip.

Saturday morning was the usual rush as all our cars were off towards Aintree, as nobody was coming back this way to drop us off at our cars.   

First, started calling Richie, then over to Sainsburys for some WEETABIX. Where a young filly built like Schwarzenegger escorted me to the brekafast cereals. Back to the hotel, called Richie again, scoffed 4 WEETABIX, washed up the spoon and bowl, called Richie again, followed by going outside for a smoke. Came back in at 8-10 and called Richie again.  He got up this time, which left him half an hour to get washed, dressed, eat, smoke and polish his boots.  He was leaving with Arthur and Katie at 8-40.

Then the wrestling match to get all the stuff back in to my suitcase that Mrs TMP does so easily. An extra fight trying to get the mini-fridge back into my holdall, I’m facked if I know how Mrs TMP got it in there because it was a really tight fit. A check round the room to make sure Chairman Cat had left nothing behind, and off to get some petrol.

Some of us weren't leaving until 9-15. Me in my car, Ann and Julie in Anns car, were going to follow Jenny and Matt in her car, as she has sat-nav, and Maghull station is about 2 miles off the main road. Parking is free, and the return train to the course costs £2-70p. It's only 2 stops, but it’s a lot cheaper than paying a scouser £20 to park in a garage car park.

The M.O.T. bay is closed for the day  as there’s no way you can get a car in there once the car park has filled up with bookies. And all at £20 per car,  per day. I’d guess that he squeezes 25 cars in there, which  equates to £1,500 for 3 days, for doing nothing.

A late departure by us meant we never had to lug anything onto the course as Josey, Arthur, Richie and  Katie would all be on course by the time we got there.

Hlaf an hour to Maghull Station, all cars parked up, and we only waited about 10 minutes for a train, even though we had just missed one by seconds.

As some of you know, and those who don’t are about to find out, my car boot was the subject of an attempted break in about 2 years ago. They facked the lock right up, and it had to be removed. 

My insurance company arranged for my car to go their selected garage, and  it was gone for about 5 days. When I got it back, not only was the lock not repaired, but the car had leaf marks all over the paint work where the daft bastards has parked it under trees and not moved it.

Anyway, I phoned the insurance company who said that the garage couldn’t get the parts to repair my lock as the car was too old.  They apparently don’t do searches of scrap yards, so I was getting the money instead.   

I got a cheque £192-43p, but my boot was facked.

I made a hole in the bodywork behind the number plate and got to the lock. I fixed a coat hanger to it and the last inch curls around the number plate. It’s a stiff  lock and I can‘t pull the inch long coat hanger with my fingers, so I use a pair of pliers. 

The car battery has a short circuit somewhere and I’m facked if I can find it.  If I leave it connected, over a few  days, it drains all the life out of  it. Rather than take a chance so far from home, I lock the car, when I can be bothered, then disconnect the battery and close the boot.

When I come back to the car the keys won’t open the doors, so I have to use the pliers to open the boot, then reconnect the battery. 

So, the pliers have to stay in my pocket.

This provided amusement at the gates to the course.

what colour were the plier handles

Red

As a bookie or a member of bookies staff, your stuff gets sniffed by the dogs and the ladies have their bags searched, and you get in half an hour earlier than the great unwashed.

On Thursday or Friday I wasn’t asked to go through a metal detector, if, in fact, there was one there.  I didn’t notice it, if there was.

On Saturday, and entering as one of the public,  as Josey, Arthur, Katie an Richie were already on the course, I had to go through the metal detector.

I put my car keys in the tray on the side  and stepped through - BEEP 

‘Have you got anything metal in your pockets ?’ the female guard asked.

‘Digital camera’ I said

‘Place it in the tray and walk through again please’ she said

BEEP

‘Anything else?’ she asked

I patted my trousers, ‘Spare change’ I said

‘Place it in the tray and walk through again please’ she said

BEEP

‘Anything else?’ she asked

I reached into my breast pocket of my overcoat, ‘Oh, I forgot these’ I said innocently, pulled out the pliers and put them into the tray.   

As I walked through there was another ‘BEEP’ but she ignored it completely as her and her supervisor were looking at the pliers.

‘I work for a bookie’ I said  ‘We’ve got bent hinges on our table. I was supposed to straighten them in the car park before we came in, but he got here before me and has taken the table in already, so I  need to take them in.’

‘Okay’ she said, and let me in.

I was going to say ‘Somebody owes me some money, and if he doesn’t pay, I’m going to pull his teeth out.’  but decided against it as she looked like she had no sense of humour. 

The outstanding BEEP was forgotten about

Jenny walked around the stand towards The Chair with Matt to Arthur’s joint. I went directly through the drinking and catering village as it’s a shorter route, where  people were already eating burgers at 10-30 ffs

Spot the difference between Beauty and the Beast

I walked along the tarmac parallel to the course towards the joint but got stopped by a security guard at the entrance to the County Stand.

‘I’m sorry sir, you can’t come in without a badge.’ he said.

He was a young asian, so I wasn’t going to waste my time with ’I  don’t need no steenking badges.’

‘I work for a bookie’ I said ‘He’s got my badge.’ and pointed into the enclosure 

‘Okay sir, sorry, but I have to ask.’ and he let me in.

Jenny arrived about 15 minutes later

I asked ‘Did you get stopped at the entrance?’

She smiled and said ’No’

If you’re in the least bit unsure about whether I’m beauty or the beast, Betfair isn’t the site for you !!

After a cuppa and a smoke, I ventured into the den of iniquity that is the Betfred shop, and had an each way treble.

As I came out  of the side door to Betfred, as it leads to the toilets, I saw 3 young men in suits carrying pints of beer, come out of the janitors room, which is in between the mens khazi and the disabled khazi.  Strange place, Aintree.

We got everything ready and Josey started taking bets on any race from noon onwards

A hectic afternoon, but at least there were no more scamming coonts.

The one major difference between course betting and shop betting, is that no matter how bad a horses form is, you will take bets on every horse in  every race on course.  As an estimated 80% of racecourse punters bet each way, the place betting book in races like the Grand National is about as much use as an ashtray on a facking motorbike. 

So even with a 33/1 winner, you still get a pretty long payout queue

When you get over your sobbing for us….... you can carry on

The crowd seemed to thin out after the National and the rest of the day passed quite easily.

Why somebody had the bright idea of having an Everton v Liverpool cup tie on the same day as the Grand National is beyond me, but there you are.

Some cloth-eared scouse bint had a bet on Lifestyle and when she came for her money, as I was paying her out, she asked me to smile (I thought I was smiling) and she held up her camera phone. 

I said ‘Smiles are a fiver each‘  but she took the picture anyway

At least she can put it on the mantle piece and keep the kids away from the fire

WHEN SHE CAME BACK TO lIVERPOOL SHE CIRCULATED IT AROUND ALL THE PUBS --
THEY ALL SRTUCK IT ON THE DARTBOARD --

YOUR NOSE COUNTS AS A BULL ...AND YOUR EARS AS AN OUTER BULL ...

I have just remembered that I spoke to one bloke on Friday after the 6th race, and asked him how he was getting on.

‘I’m having a good day’ he said ’I’m level, normally I do my money, but I’ve had fun today.’

‘Are you here tomorrow?’ I asked

‘NO!!’ he said firmly ’Everton v the Pool, that beats horse racing any day of the week.’

‘Who do you support?’ I asked

‘I’m a blue ’ he said

And even somebody who dislikes football as much as me knows that means Everton

‘Family day out? ’ I asked

‘Not really‘ he said ’our family are half blue and half red.’

I bet that was fun at tea time

The last day is a nightmare for getting off the course. The joints have to be dismantled, and there’s too much stuff do go to the car in one trip.  The joint itself collapses down, is turned up side down, and has wheels attached to it.  Some light stuff is stacked on top, but its too fragile to put heavy batteries on it.  Josey pulls the joint to the car on his own,  then goes off to get the two joints down by The Chair with Arthur, get them to the cars and packed away the he comes back for the rest of the stuff which we lug out between us.

Packing away three joints is so time consuming that by the time we got everything to the car park, Arthur and Josey’s cars were the only  two left in there. 

After bidding farewells, Josey set off for home, as did Arthur and Katie.  Richie was probably half way to half to Glasgow on the train by then. 

The rest of had to get the train back to Maghull.

Thank fack that Maghull is the opposite way to Liverpool.

The number of people on the platform and stairs for a Liverpool bound train looked like London Underground in the rush hour, and was undoubtedly a perverts paradise. 

You were going to be squashed up against somebody whether you liked it or not, and if you’re into that sort of thing, you may as well pick a half decent looking bird for it, as most of them were to drunk to notice anyway. 

But unlike London Underground trains that arrive every 3 minutes  in the rush hour, there’s at least a ten minute wait between trains here, so they really do cram themselves in like sardines.

Our train was arriving in the station way as we were half way across the ramps. 

The ramps are obviously put in for wheelchair users and are at pretty low angles for ease of movement, but this made them really long. Two long hauls to get up, I’m guessing 30 yards each, cross the bridge and two ramps the same length to get down. 

If there were stairs, I missed them.

Just like my car, I’m old and past my best, but when needs must, we can both move fast when we have to

The female guard at the top of the stairs was shouting at all those on the ramp  ‘RUN, or you’re gonna miss the train.’

I bet Health and Safety would love a word with her

I’m a good judge of pace I looked at the approaching train, saw how far I had to go, and by now everybody else HAD run.

I picked up the pace a bit, and with a fast descent I got on to the train one door down from the others as they closed, and then walked along the carriage.

There was loads of room om the train, but that didn’t stop a crowd of partygoers sitting on each other laps near us.

TMP

You dont know how lucky you were. I could have been on the firm fri and sat!!!

unfortunately, i alreday had plans.

We'd have had a laugh Tel

By the sound of things, Lizzie and Jenny may not be able to make it to Cheltenham next year.

We'd have had a laugh Tel

By the sound of things, Lizzie and Jenny may not be able to make it to Cheltenham next year.

two laughs !!

http://i43.tinypic.com/2pyrqq0.jpg

what happened to the bird - she's not there? 

ffs

I'll do it again via tinypic

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Conversation on the short journey somehow got round to men, and Ann and Julie agreed something along the lines of  ‘All men have to do is make us laugh.’

I said ’I used to make Jane laugh when we first met, because I was funny I don’t need to speak now, I just take off my clothes.‘

And more humour followed…

I recalled ex -wife number two once saying ’Don’t walk past the bedroom windows naked, or the neighbours will think I married you for your money.‘

And that IS humour btw,  as I was, to use today’s terminology,  ’well fit‘, many years ago

Jane, the present  Mrs TMP, has her own idea of humour. 

I asked ‘Will you love me when I’m old, grey and grumpy.’

‘I do‘  she said.

Mrs TMP may be small, but she likes big men. If she ever got her hands on her current fancy, Josh Hartnett, even at 6 feet 5, he’d  struggle to get away. 

We got back to the Maghull car park at 7-25 p.m. bade our farewells and off we went.

Arthur said that somebody had told him to take the A50 route off the M6 and go via Stoke, it’s all dual carriageway, to get to the M1 and head south.

It supposedly cuts miles off the journey as the M6 winds and twists a lot, before getting to the M1/M6/A14 junction

I was too tired to notice the sign for it, and was in the outside lane doing 95 when I passed it, so it was M6 all the way to the A14 for me

There was an accident on the northbound M6, can’t recall where, but it had happened just before I got there.  A coach and a car.  No serious injuries by the look of it, but the traffic had soon backed up, and the end of the queue was 1.7 miles away when I got to it, and that was still growing. 

It was going to be a very late night for some. 

With a bit of speeding along the A14, which is almost deserted at that time of night, I got home at 10-45 p.m. 

Took all my stuff indoors, had a cuppa and a sandwich and settled down to watch the National on television.

I don’t recall who the commentator was, but he definitely said that Sunnyhill Boy was down, and near to the end, possibly 3 fences out, the commentator (may have been a different one) said ‘and these are DRAWING AWAY from Neptune Collonges.’

And my each way treble ?

I should have had 3 doubles and a treble

A 9/4 winner
a 4/1 winner
and Ballabriggs, who was 6th, and Betfred only paid the first 4.

Then I found out on here that Victor Chandler paid the first 6 places

Oh well, you can't win them all

Aintree is okay, we see more racing there as our joint is just past the winning line, but it still has nowhere the atmopsphere of Cheltenham when the Festival is on.

If you haven't been to the Festival, instead of going to 2 or 3 crap meetings, save the dosh, you MUST stick it on your 'Things to do before I die' list

If the hairs on the back of your neck don't stand on end when the first race goes off, you're either dead or deaf.

Thanks to Josey, Ann, Arthur, Katie, Richie, Jenny, Matt and Julie for your company. 

Roll on March I've booked a week off from Whitemoor for it.

Excellent stuff John. 

4 Weetabix? you're a mentalist.

A good read as always, tmp

RoyClaytonsTash
23 Apr 12 20:42   
4 Weetabix? you're a mentalist.

When I was kid at school I used to eat 5 in a salad bowl with a full pint of cold milk, summer or winter. This lasted me all day, and I used to put my shilling (5p) dinner money in my pocket. If I got peckish I'd stand outside the chip shop next to the school, and ponce a few chips.

By Friday I had a dollar (25p) and I was minted !!

That bird in the purple dress must know somebody

They've taken her picture down again

Very enjoyable read, TMP.
Glad to know the Sheik stops for Arthur!

Deserves a ttt imo

Entertaining read TMP, enyoed it thanks.

If I wasn't injured there would have been JW and the Outlaws at Epsom on Derby Day

Every cloud...