Snow in June

[Professortrubshawe]

A positive message from Prof Trubshawe!

I had four winners on Saturday. I enjoyed myself enormously. I found a nice big priced one for myself and a short priced one. Ginger gave me a couple of goodies – for which thanks.

Small moan: Why didn’t I roll them into a yankee?

[Nathan Hughes]

Well done Prof.
No point worrying about the yankee unless it was in the reckoning beforehand. Everytime my brother has a winner he turns around and says ‘I should have staked more’. Well you didn’t so shut up……

Gaelic Warrior Gold Cup Winner 2026

[stevecaution]

No matter how bent the game is and how much the bookie’s hypnotism draws you in and befuddles the brain with smoke and mirrors, there is always a winner in every race.

Sometimes you will be on that very winner and sometimes you won’t. When you can treat those two imposters just the same:-

"If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss"

Kipling (Exceedingly good stakes)

Thanks for the good crack. Time for me to move on. Be lucky.

[Professortrubshawe]

No matter how bent the game is and how much the bookie’s hypnotism draws you in and befuddles the brain with smoke and mirrors, there is always a winner in every race.

Sometimes you will be on that very winner and sometimes you won’t. When you can treat those two imposters just the same:-

"If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss"

Kipling (Exceedingly good stakes)

…sounds like ‘The Ladbroke’s Life’ to me. Have you seen that advert? TRAGIC.

I am a big Kipling fan. But these days I think the following poem is more prescient and germane, and must presuppose If:

The Gods of the Copybook Headings

AS I PASS through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know."

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don’t work you die."

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool’s bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;

And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

The smooth-tongued wizards are still with us unfortunately.

[Author]

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