You Mean There's Racing Here?

copacabana beach, over 2 million reveller's, wouldnt have fancied the cue for the toilets

Yesterday I attended what can only be described as the greatest race meeting in the world, the Perth Cup at Ascot racecourse, more on the carnage that ensued there later.

After the awesome lunch on Christmas day what better way to regain my athletic physique than with a good game of golf. Araluen Country Club was the venue and their motto is ‘it’s more than just a game, it’s an adventure’, they didn’t lie. On the first hole I had to use my 7 iron on the green, not because I had broken my Aunties putter but because I was about 20 feet away and between me and the hole was enough kangaroo poo to fertilize most of Western Australia.



The Fairway On The 2nd


On the 2nd we couldn’t tee off until the roo’s had moved from the fairway to the rough (after my uncles tee shot I think a few of them wished they had stayed where they were.) Then when I landed in a greenside bunker I had to wait until a mother roo and her offspring hopped jumped and skipped their way past me, amazing stuff. I didn’t play well but the beauty of the course and the wildlife on view more than made up for it, its not often you tee off at a down hill 155 metre par 3 in the company of 5 resting kangaroo’s.
Later in the week we Jason Tina and I had a fabulous evening, dinner at their favourite Japanese restaurant where we gorged on raw fish followed by a walk around Kings Park.



I wouldn’t say I’m a big park fan but this place was the nuts. It has the most amazing lookout point which gives you the greatest view of Perth and the Swan River. It has treetop walks, outdoor cinema, botanic gardens, a whispering wall, (it really does work, Tina stood at least 30 metres away from me, whispered “hello Paul” to the wall and 30 metres away with my ear to the wall I heard it!) but most impressively two thirds of the Park is natural bushland.



similar to the view you get from the lookout


On Friday cousin Jason excelled himself yet again, he took us camping. Camping isn’t something I have done since I was about 16 and after I got back I wondered why I had left it so long, camping is brilliant fun and it’s certainly something I intend to do more off in the future. We went to a place called Dwellingup which is in the middle of nowhere, a perfect place to go camping. We got a spot, though not Jay’s favourite one and set up our base. When I say ‘we’ that might be stretching it a little, Jay, Tina and Josh set up camp and I got the beers in. 40 minutes later 2 habitable tents were erected and I was on my 2nd tinnie. The thing I enjoyed most was that we were camped up a 2 minute walk from the Murray River which we constantly went swimming in.



We were just to the left and a 2 minute walk



Early night after staring at the stars was followed by an early start and an attempt by us all to make a dent into the 70 odd cans of emu bitter than had cooled nicely overnight. Bouts of bitter drinking were punctuated by games of cards, eating, swimming and soaking up the rays. By nightfall we had made a decent dent into the 70 cans, there were 5 left and it was time for bed after a moonlit swim. I awoke the next morning, New Years Eve, covered in bruises cuts and ubi’s (unidentifiable beer injuries). Later I bid my farewell to the family and made way to Perth to meet ‘The Swan’.

Murray and I met up and decided on a quiet-ish NYE as we were heading to the Perth Cup the next day and didn’t want to be ruined for that. We met in Northbridge, had a beer in the brass monkey and ate dinner alfresco at a quaint pizzeria. Now guess if you can how much we paid for the following, 2 brushetta’s, 1 calamari, 1 penne arrabbiata, 2 daviola pizza’s 1 tiramisu 1 chocolate mud cake 2 beers and 2 bottles of vasse felix cabernet sauvignon. If you said less than fifty quid you can give yourself a pat on the back.

As ever when you are with the Swan things happen, good things, for he is blessed. Our little table happened also to be next to the main road in Northbridge, a pedestrian catwalk. Also the local radio station had a little booth a few feet away from us playing cool tunes to the sultry body’s swaying away 2006, it was a great evening and the most sensible one I have had in living memory, which is just as well as I was going to need all my energies for New Years Day and the Perth Cup.


How to describe the Perth Cup, hmm, well The Swan has attended just about every noteworthy horse meeting on the planet so he’s much better qualified than me to comment on it, “There’s nothing like this anywhere in the world, madness” were his words and wise ones at that, I loved every second of it.
Listen to these comments on it from a local Perth newspaper…

“The Perth Cup is supposed to be going upmarket, but its official website does nothing to shake off its reputation as a day of booze and sex.”

“According to the site, Tentland in 2007 will be a "cocktail of glamour, sex, style and beat'' where punters are advised to ``leave your (New Year) resolutions at the door - you wont need them here''. Nowhere does it mention horses.”


“Mr Robertson said he couldn't see a contradiction between promoting a sophisticated experience and sex.”It is a sexy experience and there will be a lot of beautiful people here,'' he said. ``It's not about zimmer frames and colostomy bags. If that's what you are wanting, you are in the wrong place, these are young, sexy and vibrant people.''

The Swan is vibrant, I’m young and sexy (*), we were right at home.

We went for the ‘Tentland’ option at a cost of 250 dollars or about a hundred quid and we picked the ‘The Lounge Room’ Marquee’s as our venue. We made our way there for 11.55; the free bar began at 12 midday. The bar was free for 4 hours and so the organisers kindly put on plenty of staff expecting a surge, they weren’t wrong. The marquee probably held about a 1000 people and amazingly we all appeared to be thirsty at exactly the same time.

After the initial surge you didn’t have to wait longer than a minute to get served, in England I doubt you would have been able to get to the bar twice in 4 hours if the pop was free. Nibbles were served throughout the day, tempura prawns, sushi, dorrito’s n dips, quiche slices, pizza slices, hot beef sandwiches, sausages with fried onions, pork and stuffing rolls and so it went on, no need to go hungry. As is usual over here water and sun lotion were free and widely available.


Mr Robertson, whoever he is, was correct in his comment about “It is a sexy experience and there will be a lot of beautiful people here”, none were more beautiful than the models that entered the room, took to the stage and started parading around modelling swimwear, as one wag put it, it’s like being in your own lap dancing bar’.
They were followed by an all female dance troupe who performed a very sultry and slick routine to some Christina Aguilera song. As a treat for the ladies 3 guys then came out, stripped down to their briefs and performed a dance routine to a Justine Timberlake tune. This happened in total for about 15 minutes and was on the hour every hour with a changing of songs, outfits and routines, incredible. All this in our little Marquee, heaven knows what was going on in some of the others. Later the ladies got a bonus when a male stripper performed Chippendale style and we were nearly killed in the rush by women hurtling themselves to the stage when he asked for a volunteer.


As is the custom with all high profile race meetings the ladies hosed themselves down, put on the war paint and wore their finest dress often accompanied by a new hat and shoes. If the Swan ever fancies for a career change he could do worse than become a fashion commentator. “Green is this year’s colour Paul” and I had to agree with him. We also agreed the best dress competition was won by a girl wearing a dress that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the 1930’s a ‘Great Gatsby’ type dress thingy.



similar to the lady on the right


The Racing? No one played the slightest attention to it, really, no one. We walked around the paddock, stand and general enclosure later but the only buzz was around the bookies stands, and I couldn’t wait to get back to the marquee.
We only saw one race, the Cup race itself and I backed a little English fella called Bay Story, sensibly choosing to ignore one of the best judges of horseracing in the world who backed the favourite. Coming around the bend my 12-1 voucher was looking home and hosed but sadly got pipped by another outsider Respect who copped the 400,000 prize.


As the day wore on so did the effects of the free bar began to hit home and though I had rigidly stuck only to beer and champagne my senses were a little worse for wear, I wasn’t alone. The room was now officially bouncing; music blared out, most people were dancing others were falling over.
At around 6pm we made our way to the concert area for people in the tented village area and the scene was much the same, women with their shoes in one hand, their champagne in the other, men ogling women, beer in one hand and a beer in the other. We watched till about 7 but by this time we were both finished, had we been in the Cup race we wouldn’t have had a chance, it’s a stayers race.

Obviously the cue for taxi’s was massive, obviously being in the company of one who is blessed we got one immediately. I’m not sure my cousins were overly impressed with the state of me when I turned up but I shall buy them a spankingly good dinner by way of an apology. So that was it, the Perth Cup, next year sell one of your organs and get here, it will be well worth, except don’t sell your liver, you’ll need it.

* According to my Mother, thanks Mum.