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His analysis before the race - invariably wrong - bears no resemblance to what he says after the race. It's happened all afternoon, also no mention of any top rated horses winning, so they probably haven't. he really is pretty p iss poor
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Considering he's relatively new to our screens, he's a fully fledged after-timer extraordinaire...there's definitely a few pounds of 'improvement' in him to plummet the depths of Cunningham et al.
No doubt there's a surefire Timeform 'p' next to his name.
No doubt there's a surefire Timeform 'p' next to his name.
PS - there's also his patronising tone of voice (not unlike Cunningham's) which irritates, whereby everything he states is so apparent AFTER the event...even when a rag finds form from down the back of the sofa!
It's all so easy when they get to the wire innit?
It's all so easy when they get to the wire innit?
Wring utter bollox and a load of waffle as the following:
TUESDAY'S CHILD IS FULL OF THE GRACE OF AN ELEPHANT
First, a parable: The Elephant and the Frog.
Twas a bright sunny day in the lush green field, when a thump-thump thundered through.
The sound was the stomp of the elephant, and a boastful one he was too.
He trampled his way over everything, but then he came to a bog,
With a creature he'd never met before, a small and humble grey frog.
'You're no threat to me,' he sneered, 'you're totally out of place.'
But far from back down the frog rose up, and challenged him to a race.
The mighty elephant laughed out loud, and duly took the bait.
'The only power you have,' said the frog, 'is the power to underrate.'
The wise frog allowed himself a smile, at the start of the mile-long quest.
And the elephant slyly raised one leg, and crushed him like all the rest.
The moral of the story is: don't mess with the big boys. Weighing in at 1320 lbs, Able Friend, nicknamed 'Elephant' by the stable staff, is every inch the big boy; every single one of the 68 inches of his 17 hands height. A monster on and off the track.
Of course, it's disgustingly disparaging, not to mention a smidgen sectarian, to cast the French-trained Solow in the role of the feeble frog, but creative licence allows it for the fake fable. His year-long, six-part makeover docudrama, in which he directly answered The Clash's question of should he stay or should he go (fast), has been a ratings winner, in the process making an enemy out of a very good Friend.
The trendy, Friendy doubters will point to his uncomfortable position, out of his comfort zone of Sha Tin, where he's had his last 16 races, against largely the same pool of horses, but it works both ways, and Able Friend will see to it that Solow's comfortable slippers will be taken right off his feet, never before having taken on anything like Hong Kong's King Kong.
Solow's Group 1 wins have come in Dubai, where form is laid on quicksand, and a French four-runner event which was a shoo-in for him because of a shoe-off for Cirrus. Solow is the slow-burning sparkler, all brightness and little heat, but the radiating Able Friend has been setting off fireworks from day one, and another explosion at Ascot will leave his Queen Anne rivals feeling low, so low.
TUESDAY'S CHILD IS FULL OF THE GRACE OF AN ELEPHANT
First, a parable: The Elephant and the Frog.
Twas a bright sunny day in the lush green field, when a thump-thump thundered through.
The sound was the stomp of the elephant, and a boastful one he was too.
He trampled his way over everything, but then he came to a bog,
With a creature he'd never met before, a small and humble grey frog.
'You're no threat to me,' he sneered, 'you're totally out of place.'
But far from back down the frog rose up, and challenged him to a race.
The mighty elephant laughed out loud, and duly took the bait.
'The only power you have,' said the frog, 'is the power to underrate.'
The wise frog allowed himself a smile, at the start of the mile-long quest.
And the elephant slyly raised one leg, and crushed him like all the rest.
The moral of the story is: don't mess with the big boys. Weighing in at 1320 lbs, Able Friend, nicknamed 'Elephant' by the stable staff, is every inch the big boy; every single one of the 68 inches of his 17 hands height. A monster on and off the track.
Of course, it's disgustingly disparaging, not to mention a smidgen sectarian, to cast the French-trained Solow in the role of the feeble frog, but creative licence allows it for the fake fable. His year-long, six-part makeover docudrama, in which he directly answered The Clash's question of should he stay or should he go (fast), has been a ratings winner, in the process making an enemy out of a very good Friend.
The trendy, Friendy doubters will point to his uncomfortable position, out of his comfort zone of Sha Tin, where he's had his last 16 races, against largely the same pool of horses, but it works both ways, and Able Friend will see to it that Solow's comfortable slippers will be taken right off his feet, never before having taken on anything like Hong Kong's King Kong.
Solow's Group 1 wins have come in Dubai, where form is laid on quicksand, and a French four-runner event which was a shoo-in for him because of a shoe-off for Cirrus. Solow is the slow-burning sparkler, all brightness and little heat, but the radiating Able Friend has been setting off fireworks from day one, and another explosion at Ascot will leave his Queen Anne rivals feeling low, so low.
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