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Promises, promises.
As this thread is now, by order of the sheep, officially dead :sad:<br> I think an epitaph is in order.
<br>The Hooves of the Horses<br>by Will H Ogilvie
The hooves of the horses – O’ Witching and Sweet.<br>is the music earth steals from the iron-shod feet;<br>No whisper of lover, no trilling of bird, <br>Can stir me as hoofs of the horses have stirred.
They spurn disappointment and trample dispair,<br>and drown with their drum beats the challenge of care,<br>With scarlet and silk for their banners above,<br>they are swifter than Fortune and sweeter than love.
On the wings of the morning they gather and fly, <br>In the hush of the night-time I hear them go by – <br>The horses of memory thundering through<br>With flashing white fetlocks all wet with the dew.
When you lay me to slumber no spot you can choose,<br>but will ring to the rhythm of galloping shoes,<br>and under the daisies no grave be so deep<br>but the hooves of the horses shall sound in my sleep.<br>
Quote: from Ian Davies on 1:08 pm on April 17, 2004[br]
 I was reading an article in the racing post today called the curse of Zorro’s blunders. It seems Paul who wrote the piece, thinks that not only he himself is the legend of Zorro, but that the white knight (El Presidente for life in this neck of the woods, and surely the most popular world leader on the planet !) spends his entire day picking on threatening posters, kiling the odd few before breakfast, and meticulously giving each and every posting death marks out of five. He referred to the great white knight as Victor Creepo, so it it is a given that any future quest he might make to cyberspace will be fraught with many dangers, and far greater than those encountered in his curse of Capistrano, and will carry not least, the ultimate threat of a painfully long beheading.
The truth, of course, is somewhat more prosaic – the more you post, the more stars you get and, even if you bore everyone to death (I’m currently trying) it is possible for anyone to get to five stars over time. I reached this heady plateau many moons ago.
Paul, who I repeat writes under the misconception he is Zorro himself, more or less stated that TRF is in a different league to its arguably better-known, exchange-based, ”chat room” rival – never understood why BF call it a chat room, when its really a forum or message board – it may be becuse they tend to chatter. Hopefully we may see Paul here eventually. Most intersting would be if he chose to don his cape and fly in ‘biggles fashion’ to drop lightly scented bombs and enchant us with tales of valour and adventure of a bygone age.
Hopefully there will be some mention of his father Don Alejandro and particularly elegant mother Chiqitta, the latino beauty who to this day still casts a lingering and scented spell over the americas, and even beyond their hills and sweetly smelling grasses.
If he does make the journey he will meet many strange people and animals. Rory who can kill a man with his breath, Seabird who trains all night, and Meshy a young white witch who is not only partial to the odd liver but is virtual Queen of the throwaway line.Zoz is another interesting poster who has recently won the prestigious Tony Buzan ‘best mind’ award for exhibiting her amazing memory feats to a packed house. The best loved poster may be Redman, most famous for his spectacular hopping trick.
Paul was last seen in a london pet shop apparently re-stocking his terrapin collection. This man can certainly write, but whether he can fly with the eagles, is very much open to question. He carries far to heavy baggage to gamble.ÂÂÂ
(Edited by Ian Davies at 7:11 pm on April 24, 2004)<br>
 Zorro your immortality may be ensured, but sadly the fine opening shot of the erudite Ian Davies, lost some of its beef in transit.
flatcapgamble..two edits in favour of the knight Davies :drunk:
(Edited by gamble at 10:47 am on May 5, 2004)<br>
(Edited by gamble at 10:55 am on May 5, 2004)
I agree with you Gamble. That kick off post is splendid stuff indeed. We can only gaze in awe.:o
Just received this in the post with a compliments slip from Piers Morgan.<br> To understand is to forgive.
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(Edited by turtle at 8:22 pm on May 5, 2004)
Bee ee  beee  beeeee eh
cough
baaaa  baaaa  baaaaaaaaaa
<br> can I have a cocoa Mum<br> I think I am going to have a baby :crying:
<br>flatcapgamble…  As you probably know I’m his dog and today I wrote in the joke section..
..gamble’s gone off for a dump. He doesn’t do jokes, all his accounts are taken from his rich tapestry – sadly they are mostly about him and his miserable hancock life
<br> Sheepshank still fancies his chances against Zorro and the clever turtle, even after this excrutiating expose, thing is he’s finished :laugh:
<br>
….after I saw my picture, I was rather shocked, not dissapointed, just a bit edgy that my secret was out. I thought I’d do something normal, so I checked the Chelsea score on the betfair chatboard, and was amazed to see the 2-0 score line. It was Thurnscoe thunder writing, a past in running man and fisherman like me, and he was pleased as punch
I needed air.
I walked to the pub with my picture big in my mind. The pub was full of people and the score was now 2-1 :grumpy:.
I pushed through a thick throng wanting for a pint of crone and..another order( mind your own business). I waited what seemed like hours, and when the barman came and took my order he said…<br>  <br> " sorry mate we’re completely out of glasses "
….. at that exact moment Monaco scored.
 I walked out five minutes before the end having just got a pint. I walked the long way home, fancying a stretch. On a busy pavemment I saw a couple approach, and I immediately recognized the bloke – it was Griff Rhys Jones the comedian out with his Squeeze, and he was arguing with her. I looked behind me and saw his woman was wearing jeans and had an ample derriere, hmm. Strange thing is they had both failed to notice me, a sheep.
I walked into another pub. This one was almost empty, it had no sky.
flatcapgamble..:blush:ÂÂÂ
…. I had a further two pints and a bag of crisps. Walking home I amused myself by thinking out loud….
 A baa baa had run amok for two years on truffle and someone commented that it was the main man. Was I unhappy, or what ? :laugh:
Jilly you were right I almost laughed my legs off. Downside is my carrer here is finished :biggrin:
These sort of threads sail by rarely. They are best described as large ghost ships in the night fully encrusted with pink winking diamonds that bedazzle and slow and trick the mind. Below their water line are carbuncles that kick ass. Strange creatures patrol their upper decks and a multitude of marine life splash in their aft wake and dolittle but chatter and flip the odd beach ball :soccer:
 If I can snatch the time I intend to re-visit here on sunday to wave this vessel away with full mulitary honour. Pearl harbour will get its very own depth charged grimes report
  Racing generally is in the doldrums at the moment, with dodgy waiters and saltless porridge often on the menu. If I fail to make it, you’ll know I am dead from boredom. I may just sit down and ponder it myself, in spirit.
…..
   Hastings… Now this Turtle case is over Poirot, I’d like to ask your views on this big Marple women, she’s getting very nosey and seems to be muscling in on your casework. Do you feel threatened by her ?
  Poirot… Hastings, this is all too easy for me to answer. This lady has a fine mind and this is not at all the dispute. I enjoy much the challenge, but the size of any madameoiselle is not at all the matter. Hah..in Belgium we often get the colder weather..for the larger types most approriate – and to use my own tongue I say…’ tres  a g r e a b l e’.
Flatcapgamble..Bring your own tin hat, preferably twice the size of Basingstoke..it might rain
<br>Your shepherd has a lot to answer for gamble.
(Edited by robgomm at 11:11 am on May 7, 2004)
THEME – FILM
The sheep turned in a 5.am and bleated in his sleep..
We think Jonathon Ross is an embarrassing twat at times don’t we ladies and gentlemen ? Doooooh.. He suggests a no holes barred tenty minutes flesh extravaganza with a lady guest and only gets a poo hoo. Bring back Mary brush your teeth after kissing Whitehouse. The devil’s running the show – Mary once had a little lamb….bring it on
  Get thee to a church Ross and park in there my son
 Sunday’s a pretty naff day for racing and that’s why I intend to go full throttle in here and wind the gamble battery down to Zilch. This really is the end of a dream. The theme for the final day is film, and putting on my sunday vest I intend to put the great racing threads, including this one, under the film spotlight. Give ’em stars too.
  I have nothing against Ross wreally, he has a lot of energy, it is just occasionally he should remember he does have guests, and many many white souled viewers who still love a plain muffin. His words on film are better.
 My plan today was to pop in here at about six just put this thread onto its lofty pinnacle and be gone. A night of some horror changed that.
Nick and rob are the reincarnation of good old ern. Bless your hearts gentlemen.
  I hope the racing purists will understand, but this is a blue moon job, and it would be sad to lose it. My advice is turn a blind eye. Help with the picture above is appreciated and I intend to send an imaginary chocolate cake with the words eat in time as a gesture.
Next up – the place of Zorro in history
<br>flatcapgamble…gamble’s battery is really low, and I believe the man’s dying.
(Edited by gamble at 12:42 pm on May 9, 2004)
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