Firstly I'm not a vegetarian or vegan. So why the odd title? Well, firstly, it's a cracking album and if you're tempted to tell me The Smiths are miserable I'd suggest you unfollow and unsubscribe. However "misunderstood" and actually "comedic geniuses" will be acceptable. Secondly... well you'll have to wait until race 7 to find that out. 300 blogs in and I've discovered the power of a teaser.
This Hexham meeting was very good last year so we put it in the diary with no hesitation. Also it's on the way to Ascot. Don't snigger at the back, it really is (sort of) on the way to Ascot. But it has be "De-premierised" (also a new word which also doesn't exist and one that I've just made up) which effectively means being shoved back until 4 o'clock and, in this case, the meeting managed to lose a race at the same time as it went from 7 races to 6.
Steve messaged me Friday night to say we'd probably need to make an early decision on whether to go which slightly mystified me until the screenshot of the rain radar kicked in (we're virtually on dial up in rural Scotland) and it was best described as "biblical" My inkling was still to go because the Met Office forecasts are notoriously awful so I did what all bookmakers do when faced with rain, checked every other weather app on my phone until I found one I liked. I had to download a few until I did but we got there eventually. And, remember, Hexham is on the way to Ascot...
We sat in the car park watching the radar showing a mass of yellow and red doom inch inexorably in our direction. We flipped and we flopped. We flopped and we flipped. Now we knew what the United board must've gone through with Ten Hag after he won the FA Cup. We gazed towards the hills to the south to get further assistance, which didn't help much as the abovementioned hills had disappeared in a shroud of grey. Then it rained. I resolved to not stand. Then it stopped and I resolved to stand. And the process was repeated. Eventually we came to the same decision as Jim Ratcliffe and stuck to our original decision. Would we get the shiny silver cup or struggle away at Brentford? Metaphorically.
We stood 2nd on the top line which is generally the worse of the two lines but there looked like there were only likely to be 3 of us up top v 15 or so at the bottom of the incline. And it was nearer to the covered areas when the deluge came. Punters, like water, tends to flow downhill there so we weren't sure of the amount of punters likely to swim against the tide. We were fairly sure which way the water was going to go though.
1) Betting was ok as the rain held resolutely a few miles south of us and, being near the paddock, there was a last 5 minute rush. We stood Byron Hill for the max And Mister Moodles for about half. Byron out of the running, not poetry in motion tonight, and Moodles similarly ineffective but our jackpot Kopa Kilana was beaten by our much more modest winner (and favourite) Huit Reflets. Places were great though and our modest win profit was doubled. Welsh Dave next door told me he'd had a cheeky each way on rank outsider Frankies Fire, we chortled gently until it winged the last and hit evens in running. Sadly it then hit the wall and failed to place.
2) With the owner of Shadows in the Sky, Lee Westwood, surveying the Hexham scene with all the scrutiny of a 15 foot putt for the Ryder Cup it was inevitable that the punters would follow in. And they did. Inevitable max along with another 3 losers from "small" to "half max". The smallest loser, Going Mobile, won easily and, despite being small, it was still a loser. The rain was still battering down- fortunately about a mile away and we continued to stay miraculously dry. Though bloody freezing.
3) A rather lovely young group appeared at the start of race 3 betting. They looked, and sounded, straight out of Downton Abbey. One of the girls asked me what "each way" meant then broke into, quite literally, the dirtiest laugh I've ever heard. "Not what you think it does, love" was my deadpan response. The risque responses are always, well, the riskiest, which I seldom indulge in, but in fairness she started it, it was funny and I was bloody freezing. Offence wasn't taken and bets were struck and they stayed with us for the rest of the night. Card bets. Obvs. Rotten, rotten book. Took plenty on Not Now Tayto which duly halved in price and Macavity which "only" shortened about 3 points. Like a 1990s boy band back catalogue, our book was value free. So we got a result of course as Breakdance Kid won at a canter. Solid win. Still no rain. Though the mercury continued to plummet.
4) Quietish betting heat in the hot pot, though a few late bets gave us something to work with. You'll know we had the odds on shot onside (we don't lay on the machine) as we so often do when they are short priced (not by design!) and you'll know we stood the 2nd favourite plus Auld Toon Loon, the most inevitable lay of the day. Genuine skinner with Stylish Recruit and Welsh Dave hit the bar again with another cheeky each way on Famous Liss who looked likely to get up. The favourite placed to save us a few each way headaches and we were motoring.
5) Max on the jolly which shortened alarmingly on the off to take a chunk of value out of the book plus 3 other maxes in the higher priced region of the betting. We were stress free again as either of the only two possible winners were good for us and we got the better one in Kingston Bridge despite a lovely lady backing it (along with Barbados Buck) as she'd just got back from her honeymoon in the Caribbean. Fortunately she was a £2.50 each way punter rather than a £250 each wayer. We did get asked for "One twenty five" each way shortly afterwards. We duly printed £125 each way, the punter duly handed over two £1 coins, two 20ps and a 10p, we duly voided. We remained dry but colder than Lee's ice bucket.
6) And finally we stuck Minniemum and Tigga Time in for the max. But that's not the story of this race. The rain started, it got colder than it was at Christmas (Juneuary being the current buzzword) but we were saved by being able to lay the perfectly named "Pure Sirloin" and all the merriment that entailed. "What's your stake" I asked after every single request for a bet. Even when they'd given me the stake. It was too good an opportunity to miss and I wasn't going to. I accompanied it every single time with a playful punch in Welsh Dave's back accompanied with a full explanation as to why it was so, so funny. "Sirloin Dave, Sirloin, What's your stake, Dave, geddit?" Joyful. Even on the 10th rerun Welsh Dave had the good grace to laugh before remarking that it was "rare" for me to come up with a good gag. Genuis. He's got a job with CairnBet whenever he likes. The only mild disappointment was that it didn't win or place or I could've repeated the trick with a hearty "well done" on every payout which would possibly have been the highlight of my year. And there you have it. The denouement to my meat is comedy murder opener. I hope it was worth it. For completeness another outsider, Dinions, won and another win was chalked up and we had a nice end to what was a very nice night.
Then we had to pack away when the heavens did finally open. Ironically at the exact time Met Office forecast it was going to stop. Ascot for the rest of the week. Long days followed by short blogs. Tuesday day 1. Until then...
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