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Good morning all and good to see you in action again Dynamite after it what seems to have been a long and reflective sabbatical.
I don’t look into this forum that much these days as I have directed my energies elsewhere – so yeah I missed your re-entry and have been booted out of NASA.
You say you are dodging the
2000 guineas – which to my glasses after a couple of clarity wipes tells me one thing – you are less mathematically based more garden fence – but no problem with that I love the buzzing of bees, but effectively – and I live a stones throw fron David Gilmour’s gaff and drink at the same coffee (or coca house 9) house but with one slight difference – I slip out at night a card to pay for my addiction he takes our a thick flashy wad –
by bypassing the thousand you have poached one of his finest lines ‘ the lunatic lies in his head ‘Fred Flintstone was touted as a good left ored
………LOVING HORSES……….
I have an aversion to large horses
They take up far too much of the bedI think the word
BADASS
is too tempting
not to use in this
Fred thread.
Apply it indiscriminately
OR
WITH CROSS HAIRS
( Fred was a fighter and strangely
enough a Yorkshireman )Old woman with a chip on her shoulder
” What’s the time ?
Old Man
” Dunno ”
Old woman with a chip on her shoulder
” I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wearing a tic toc ”
Old Man
” Yeah ”
Old woman with a chip on her shoulder
” Why don’t you wear a tic toc ?”
Old Man…
” I don’t have the time ! “
The only engagement I had with Miriam Francome was an odd thirty years ago in the paddock at Brighton raceycourse.
It was a very pleasant sunny afternoon and I had travelled down from the Citi smoke to clear my lungs and hopefully fill up my boots.
She likewise, but my Arthur Daley little earner was slightly less certain than hers, as the Racing Channel guaranteed a certain cheque at the end of the day – while I was relying on midnight oil and outcomes.
We were about five feet away post race and I knew immediately who she was, and back then and freer of worry lines and having a younger possibly more impressive frame than I possess now in my senior adulthood I may have cut a figure, but then again as far as she was concerned, I could easily have been John Garfield’s protege in the Postman always rings twice – actually the postmen back then might often give a little Stan Laurel whistle.Despite my Royal Mail acting uniform I received a long engaging smile – or was it a flash ? Whatever it was it was electric and it got me whimsically thinking I had got one over the world’s greatest jockey !
She rolled a tantalizing microphone switching its position constantly in her fingers and I had a mind filled with a tantalizingly rolling picture of Brighton Rock and the odd thought came to mind – that Pinkie Brown might have had a far less turbulent end if only he had had the pleasure to fast forward and set eyes on the one and only wow figure that was Miriam.
R.I.P.Wore hood to post, front rank, pushed along after 2 out, switched left and went clear with winner approaching last, no chance flat, kept on well towards finish op 15/8 tchd 7/4
Poor thing – he never knew he was on the unwatered part of the course !
Come home to Mummy
!!!There is very little formal historical record of small postal bookmakers from the 1950s, so firms like “McLaughlins” often survive only in local memory or newspaper advertisements rather than official histories.
However, there is some anecdotal evidence that a bookmaker called McLaughlins operated in Glasgow (Maryhill area) in the mid-20th century. Local recollections describe them as a neighbourhood bookmaker who:
Took bets from a shop and a lane entrance,
Operated before betting shops became legal (1961 Betting and Gaming Act),
Occasionally had police raids, which was common for bookmakers taking cash bets illegally at the time. �
Glasgow West End
This fits the typical pattern of bookmakers in Britain during the 1940s–50s:
Cash betting shops were illegal until 1961.
Legal betting was usually postal or credit betting.
Many local bookmakers ran semi-legal operations in back rooms or shops.
Police raids were common, especially in working-class districts.Past infringements in the good old days may be outside your area of interest. However I was banned by these cowboys after 39 consecutive winning bets. It was a conditional bets system I developed at the age of eight and Paw opened it for me in his name. I used to walk to the Post office and get postal orders to the value of my bets and made sure they were crossed for safety. They often used to send the winnings back in real cash a fiver plus the rest in a small postal order to save money. You had to catch the early post because the time of posting obviously had to be before the first race you bet on.
The postal service was totally reliable back then and postmen in those days were honest and slept well.
Later on I bet quite large amounts in shops in the 90’s and I often left my winnings to be picked up a few days later to dull their memory of the snatcher.The possible edge looks interesting, even exotic if you’re sitting in downtown snifterville, but when you wake up in the morning and reach for the cornflakes the reality suddenly hits you and it’s written large on the kitchen table, ‘ I am reliant on external forces ‘ i.e. others betting habits. If those habits migrate from authentic platforms and into illegal areas you’ve suddenly lost your daytime job and the 500 testing model is akin to Paul Sheldon’s Misery – completely yella’ and up to in flames.
I am not decrying its possible effectiveness just pointing out the weaknesses of relying on the clanI am of the opinion that there are some commonalities in horseracing results. The edge possibilities depend on if ‘er over the garden fence knows about it. When you put the cat out at night and spot a large nose resting on the woodwork followed by demonic laughter there’s a fair chance she’s clued you out !
My last post may have been a touch condescending to the author of this thread – I blame the incessant voices and that nut that calls himself whathisname.
The last time I ever offered anything of value to this hallowed place was when the boot came in.
If you assume the mentality of Dennis Hopper in his protagonist role in Blue Velvet you might well, set in that strange mindset, consider a full time career betting on horses as a possible career move. Quite a few citi types chanced their luck on the exchanges just post the millennium. Some couldn’t hack it, others stayed until the tax took hold. Thinking back, Betfair or Butterbar as I then called it, put out a special announcement and advised how many on their ‘death to the bookie’ platform were making 15k a year. It was in 2002 and I remember the numbers but I very much doubt any of you you do – 15 people in a thousand. Hmmm not many if it’s to be taken as gospel, and many of that number may have been price traders I. Price trading was a natural progression on P2P’s but to the straight back and lay boys they were considered the snide devil incarnate.
Hats off to those who have made a reasonable yearly wedge over time betting on horses. I suppose it beats driving a bus but possibly the bus driver may have a more comfortable ride, and has a pension at a later stage in life if the piles don’t get him, when the horse follower is using a magnifying glass to study the form whilst taking the odd painkiller for his back.In my next brief I may explain how much you can earn on the platforms.
Alternatively, I may not !I am sure this angle, well you could call it a potential edge if you have had a snifter, has been well covered by the farmer his cook at home wife their escapee sons and the cows wondering when the hell are going to be milked. That being said I wish you every luck and enjoyment in the monitoring.
It is good discipline to set the bar low but drippings may be a little below the waterline and what you may end up with are dustings.
The idea is Benter like in its logic but perverse in distancing the horse and engaging the gambler, however that being said it does make sense.
There have been some good cautionary responses on this thread.Raising the bar somewhat – I have it on good authority that there are a few making an annual seven figures from horseracing – it is called the multi brained approach. The only problem is you have to share the bounty with the other brains.
I could go on but I won’t!
You book a P&O cruise to Perth (and hopefully back), but put thought in and cleverly make sure your cabin is as far away physically from anyone called Ricky or Lake. Anyway, on the first afternoon you stretch out your wasted and pallid corporeal form on the second class sun deck and as tanning ladies disperse, you spot your consultant heading for first class, and he says …
” I’m here thanks to your operation ”
and you shout..” LAKE ”
Anyway watching Hill runaway with the tarts was an almightily unusual experience for me. I rarely spy more than 1% of races I bet on – possibly the last race of the day if I am involved, but only if it is of interest – which it usually isn’t. l’m heavily into MUTE VISION – look and listen well – spending wasteful time watching horse races you are financially involved in is not only emotionally draining but counter productive if you are interested in profit – especially if you are mathematically based.
Given you are a compulsive, or an idealist, or perhaps an artist, or a penniless enthusiast, or the fast dying breed of Yankee man, go ahead and fill your eye boots.I made the unusual exception for Hill as I evidenced a large fly filling the ointment, just as Michael Douglas’s famous line disturbingly and irrationally entered the slow windmill of my mind.
‘This could be the bet of the century’ or if not – Lingfield car park on a wet Monday afternoon at 4.30 chucking out time, as Barry Dennis’s ghost heads home in front of you, and with your readies, for a medium but not rare steal and chips
Liverpool Echo….
Let’s face it – he was well prepared and unlike many – a very valuable horse !!!THE HOLE
I have reported this happening before but a long time ago BUT as it is a grey and rather dreary afternoon I thought I might brighten the scene and write it again, also Sedgefield was very kind to me.
I was living in Frankfurt in the mid 80’s. I would buy the Sportwelt every day it was sold – It wasn’t every day and it was expensive 3 marks I think for a slimmie.
They had jockey’s weights in kilos so I adapted to that and used to go to Frankfurt race course very often. A favourite horse at that time ( never have particular favourites these days it’s all mathematics and money really) was the sprinter Orojoya and I picked up a good price on her when she ran in Frankfurt and later backed her at 1/3 @ Sandown (last race ) or Kempton in blighty on a rather dreary evening where I heard a bookie shout – I’ll pay you Monday at Leicester – such were the times them. I was invited to the John Dunlops early evening party after racing by a lady that new him – but I declined because I felt sorry for the lady’s husband.
Anyway all that aside I want to get to the HOLE. One Sunday as it was often a Sunday…duty calls I must go ( maybe finish it later )
Just had time to edit the mistakes 👌Wintertime
One horse to another horse
“Do you know what you are doing ?”
Other horse
” Not really “
The winter cancellations are quite flavoursome to me. Any break in the racing programme means I can put my feet up. Even one meeting cancelled saves me quite a lot of grind.
I think the summer heat was a different matter and caused distortion. An equal or slightly less distortion that the new much smaller fields disrupt jump racing data. It is all manageable but difficult.
Of course I have had quite a lot of social disruptions over the Xmas period – it’s inevitable and taken with a pinch of salt.
I don’t recommend any break in the racing programme apart from the weather inflicted breaks that come from above.
by bypassing the thousand you have poached one of his finest lines ‘ the lunatic lies in his head ‘