Then again, we had steeled ourselves for a strange night at the races after following the advice we heard the night before from Captain Brett Davies reporting from the Good Ship RTW that one must “take the bull by the ears” and so were ready for anything. Well, almost. We really were not ready for the band at the Beer Garden, however. We thought we were watching one of those wretched NOWTV or ATV local music shows. There’s a time and place for a band like this. This was not one of them and we felt as if we were trapped in one of those awful Hong Kong office parties where we were the token gweilos and forced to suck on oranges and hand out prizes and laugh on cue as the amateur emcee would go on and on and on.
As they struck up whatever they struck up and launched into a very surreal Bee Gees medley sung in some weird language with snippets of another weird language, a murder of crows hovered above, dogs started howling at the moon, those by the stage area scurried for cover, horses in the paddock spooked, Jenny Chapman looked unsettled and we looked at each other and knew it would be one of those nights the Eagles sang about.
Below, exclusive footage of Jenny From The Paddock under siege as birds get unsettled upon hearing the sounds of the C All-Stars. Spot Jenny and win absolutely nothing. Again.
Meanwhile, this band- called the C All-Stars and certainly an oxymoron as we didn’t see nor hear any music let alone all stars- played on, harmonizing like rabid dogs and singing with much gusto and totally oblivious to the carnage they were causing.
“Yes, we’re as uncool as we look and our music truly sucks wind, but we like our hair. You like?”
And there certainly was carnage on the track. There was a 50 to 1 pop, a 12 to 1 pop and with the night ending with a 29 to 1 shot winning the last race and Tye Angland winning the Jockeys Challenge at 35 to 1. Apart from Jenny Chapman’s best bet of the night coming in, we watched as newbies to racing made paper airplanes of tipping sheets, set them on fire and did the Gangnam Dance on them.
Really, folks, it’s 2012 and coming up to 2013 so let’s stop all this tipping nonsense. We have already seen many tip sheets bite the dust and it’s time for those left to stop while behind. It’s putting off newbies to the sport who get deflated that “even racing experts can’t win and their tips crash and burn”. Tipsters are another oxymoron just like the C All-Stars are to music. There are tipsters and there are racing experts and racing experts don’t tip. They keep their bets to themselves and don’t need to broadcast them.
Give us a Vince Aspinall, below, any day who does his homework and shares it very few. Same with one other person we know in Hong Kong who has quit while he’s ahead and can afford to be driven around in his chauffer-driven Bentley.
On the subject of Oz, what a bloody mess it all is with the Three Amigos affair in NSW, and the Danny Nikolic saga with Dashing Des’ bombshell yesterday at the lengthy enquiry where a Mr X was, er, named.
At Kalgoorlie- and on one of their biggest racing days- there was major power blackout and TAB went tits up and many couldn’t get on winners- and the whingeing is still going on. As with many industries when the unexpected happens, TAB was caught with their pants down and had no idea what to do which resulted in a domino effect on some of the corporates who were left “confused” and with many punters’ bets going astray. There was then the punch-up at a Kalgoorlie bar on the weekend between a few racing “personalities” which is another story for another day. Another “classy story” which only adds to the current tarnished image of racing in Oz which needs some serious fixing. Imagine Oz racing without the likes of professionals like Peter Moody, Bart Cummings and Lady GaiGai. We can’t either. On a more positive note, congrats to trainer Gwenda Markwel and the very underrated Christian Reith on the win of Rolling Pin in the Cameron at Newcastle.
Christian Reith winning on Rolling Pin.
Nash Rawiller practicing at home with a rolling pin.
As for the rest of our Happy Wednesday, it was a subdued night, not ‘cos we lost as we had taken the horn by the ears and the bull by the ass. It had to do with the sheer weirdness of it all- some of the rides, many of the results, a strange roll-up that must have helped turnover and many taking themselves far too seriously- and being fucking precious. and thinking racing is some exacting science and that they are involved in some form of art. Puhleeeze!
What makes a Happy Wednesday a Happy Wednesday is that it attracts a very International crowd and is Hong Kong’s most popular Big Night Out. It’s not some crappy Canto-Pop concert for Mums and Dads nor is it one of those stupid TVB and ATV variety shows with daft and childish games. This type of crap devalues the Happy Wednesday brand and turns off many who just might never turn up again fearing that there would be more of the same.
As for those who take themselves and what they do as some kinda public service, go smoke a bong or dance like a fool- naked- in front of the mirror at the loo at Adrenaline at the Happy Valley track or listen to abnormally normal guys like the three captains from the Good Ship RTW who say some of the daftest things and which at least makes us smile. It also gives us here something to write about other than the usual hardcore gibberish which is only regurgitated
“Did you win, Homer? Did you get the Triple Trio? The Six Up Bonus?”
Speaking of reports from the Good Ship RTW, we gulped when we thought we heard Captain Flindell announce that jockey Vincent Ho had been gelded during the off season. Thunderbirds Are Go, indeed and we needed a drink after that.
Meanwhile, we’ll leave you with this piece of weirdness. In hindsight, it’s just so random, it’s kinda good. At least it makes us kinda smile…which is better than a kinda frown.
Comments