Parochial thinking is gonna be the kiss of death of the horse racing industry unless blood sucking bloodstock agents get their first and drive potential owners away leaving only the usual suspects to own the best horses and create an elitist sport.

Anything elitist in this world today with its online buffet of gaming and other lifestyle choices is fucked.

Which leads us to this: Why not more global thinking when it comes to horse racing, or does this start and end with co-mingling?

Why not horse racing’s answer to the Oscars or the Grammys and where we have a red carpet event attended by marquee names, televised globally and where the world’s best are honored?

By the same token, why not an International Racing Hall Of Fame? We already have an International Hall Of Infamy. Where this- the former- can be easily worked out. Think McDonald’s worried about where they would plonk down their first Golden Arches? Same with Hard Rock Cafe. And The Hard Rock Cafe Museum. Hell, Hong Kong has a Madame Tussauds. It’s all about not seeing a half-filled glass and over-thinking something to death. Just DO It!

Build it and they will come, said The Voice in Field Of Dreams. We can still dream, can’t we?

We still have that get up and go, right? Or has that got up and gone?


The Most Woos Of A Tipster: Big Wes Cameron in WA.

Seldom have we heard a tipster refuse to put his balls on the wicket and tell it like it is.

Instead, it’s ALWAYS lines like, “I am really not confident” and “This is a very difficult race” and more fretting and walking backwards to Christmas like a fat fucking Goon.

Grow some balls, man, BE A MAN, as Russell Peters and take some lessons from Jenny Chapman who calls it from the paddock as she sees it and with zero tolerance for making excuses.


On the subject of WA racing, has anyone heard a trainer named Rob “Fredo” Brown being interviewed? Someone take away the man’s 24 cans of Red Bull! Speed Kills!


The HKJC does many things right and are way ahead of the pack despite the gawdawful caterwauling of some at 1 Sports Road.

These are those who whinge behind the back of the boss and then fawn, juggle dogs in the air and do backward somersaults in front of him to keep their gigs.

Them, well, we know who they are- and if we do so, so do those who count- and the packs they move in which we keep away from like the plague. Loose lips sink ships. It’s like sex.

The next few months will see where all this whingeing and twittering in cyberspace leads and who and where some might land with an almighty great thud.

Always remember that Eleventh Commandment: Thou Shall Not Get Caught.

There’s a Twelfth: Don’t Bite The Hand That Feeds You.

Don’t like where you work? Leave. Unless of course, there is nowhere to go.

Having said all this, when a ‘live’ broadcast is hit by gremlins and where audio leakage is allowed to go on and an on for almost fifteen minutes and drowns out what is happening right there and then, well, that’s deplorable and a disgrace- and which happened during the Wednesday night broadcast.

Quelle horreurs, mes amis, what if this happened on a really important race day? Also, don’t even get us started on the mish-mash pretending to be locally produced racing shows and, at least, on the cutting edge program that is Racing To Win with The Three Amigos, that selection of music which makes it all look and sound like Morecambe And Wise Meets David Brent And Jay-Z.

One cannot have technical breakthroughs like IBU tables and the stimulating success of the Race Simulator app, but then have meandering and meaningless programs and simplistic production breakdowns.

It’s all arse before face like whoever was the genius who designed the guitar-shaped stage for ‘live’ music at the Beer Gardenu which is probably even too small to fit in three Oompa Loompas playing Mattel toy instruments.


It raced in Hong Kong for John Moore four times as, we think, A-Plus and did bugger all.

Now known as Novikov and trained by the very underrated Bryan Guy, the horse made its debut and was backed- hard- to start the $1.90 favorite- and despite a terrible start, exploded to win from last to first. Impressive.

More impressive is that the name of the owner of the horse is G. Moore. Georgie Boy is finally a winner!