Royal Ascot Memories

A Molly´s bar girl hard at work

I spent a week drinking my Grand National winnings staring at a wall and wondering why God decided to create cockroaches. Your average Spanish barman wasn’t a particularly brilliant creation either.

Quote from Jeffrey Bernard’s spectator column 25/4/1987 whilst on holiday in Spain

I live above an Irish bar that only employ Spanish staff and on Monday I waited 15 minutes to get served, a new record even for these most laid back of waiting staff. I would complain but they only employ eye candy who can’t utter a word of English (and I doubt they can speak Irish either) so I put up with the view and could barely speak when they eventually got round to serving me as I was spitting feathers at this stage.

They do make me laugh normally, they potter around, smoking and strenuously try to ignore thirsty customers whilst doing their hair in the mirrors, such a simple job really; I may apply if a vacancy comes up.
Still my moan was nothing compared to the English couple I had the misfortune to be stood next to at the bar last night. After getting their 2 vodka and tonics (containing the normal Spanish measure which is approximately 15 times larger than the UK equivalent) for under a fiver; they had the audacity to complain that there was no change. It ended with the husband shouting ´come on Luv; we won’t get any bloody change over here´ whilst barely managing to carry the 2 pint size glasses of vodka, what a pair of cretins, at least they got bloody served.

And so Beckham finally won a medal with Madrid and fair play to him, he deserved it in my opinion. That view was shared with just about everybody else who lives here in La Linea where I reside. The celebrations at the final whistle were impressive at the Bernabeu but were equally as ferverent some 670 km from Madrid, here, the place went bonkers.
Fireworks, claxons, mega phones flares, drums, the hooting of car horns and some good old fashioned chanting and singing were all seen or heard for about 3 hours after the match and caused total gridlock in the town centre, marvellous stuff. I had a wander about and was amazed at the sheer scale of numbers; imagine a town 670km form Manchester going as potty, impossible.

Also a sad farewell to the best striker the premiership has ever seen, even if he was a gooner, Barcelona’s gain. Hopefully I will land this job I have been waiting for ages for and if I do it will mean spending a decent amount of time in Barcelona, I think I will treat myself to a few matches if I get it.


Goon but not forgotten

As previously mentioned I had to go to Madrid myself for a meeting a few days after the match and what a long day that was. PF, my old Guv from SJ met me at 5.30 AM (yes I spelt the ´AM` part correctly) where we headed off to Malaga for the hour flight to Madrid.
At the airport we began our normal practise of a little heads up poker for 5 euros a game which we continued on the plane, then at Madrid airport, then before the meeting, after the meeting, back at Madrid airport, on the plane on the way back and in the bar we went to once we had got back. Of course I won but only because I know his tell, whenever he bluffs he makes a fiendish smile, when he has a big hand his smile is like one a child would beam on Christmas day having just been given a wonderfully expensive gift, simple really.

As PF is the governor I followed his example in the ´how to dress for a very important meeting stakes`, so it should have been no surprise to his colleagues to see us both turn up in jeans, (mine far scruffier than his), un-ironed tee-shirts and trainers. Meanwhile they were dressed in immaculate suits, 500 euro shirts and silk ties, the look of horror given us before the meeting shall stay with me for some time. All went well but the final decision as to if I get the post I am seeking rests with the lawyers, if it’s a no-no it’s under the arches for me.

I had the pleasure of taking part in some organised loafing this week, otherwise known as the game of cricket. It’s been a while since the whites went on which may help explain why I didn’t bat bowl or field very well but I wasn’t there for the glory. The team for whom I played for where a man short and agreed to my match fee demand of 4 pints, I think I deserved them.
Other than that not much has been going on really, I’m dividing my time between the beach, the internet café and watching Big Brother. I can’t afford to play golf presently but I did watch most of Royal Ascot without punting and what happy memories that particular race meeting hold for me.


Happy Day´s

The Patarchi´s were a couple of twin brothers, Michael and Christopher whom I used to play poker against and are without doubt the most insane gamblers I have ever come across. In fact once they went back to Greece for a two week holiday and one of the local bookmakers had to shut down.
The Camel told me a story about the twins once which should sum them up. It was Royal Ascot and the Camel bumped into not only Michael and Chris but their older brother Harry who was clutching a betting voucher in his hand and was looking extremely pleased with himself by all accounts. The Camel asked for a look and was proudly shown a betting slip that was a 3 horse tri-cast for one hundred pounds; the prices of the horses were 66-1, 80-1 and 50-1.
The Camel worked out there wasn’t enough money in the county of Berkshire to pay him had this bet copped but instead of a look of embarrassment from the twins they gleamed at the Camel and told him in unison as proud as punch, ´now that’s a real Patarchi´s bet´, you couldn’t make it up.

I also enjoyed working at Royal Ascot for 3 or 4 years in the company of Badbeat back in the heady days when he owned a few pitches and a pair of bollocks the size of 2 coconuts.

Barry Dennis is a famous bookmaker who appears in the Sun and Channel 4 and is of course, a total wanker.
He used to enjoy Badbeat´s occasional disasters more than most whilst we all eyed him up as a nasty spiv who was playing with someone else’s money.

They famously locked horns one Tuesday afternoon when Badbeat shouted out to the crowd he was going evens on the O’Brien favourite in the 1st race. We soon fought back from being knocked over in the rush and the satchel was bulging as much as Dawn French’s knickers when Dennis shouted out he wanted an even 5 grand on the horse, of course he shouted it so loudly that the Queen could have heard what was going on. Quick as a flash Badbeat confirmed he was on, and then a millisecond later screamed out 11-10 the field! Dennis’s embarrassment was a moment to behold though he did get a Nelson Munz ´ha-ha´ moment when the horse won by a nose.


I´m not a fan

Another marvellous Royal Ascot story revolves around getting the best of it with a bookie; in this case I believe it was Paddy Power on the wrong end of business.

He who is blessed and Badbeat used to work at a spread firm years ago which was very much a case of the `haves´ and the ´have nots´. Due to the firms recruiting policy it was time to recruit another ´haves´ and so one Jake Astor was employed for a summer.
The Astor’s used to own Manhattan and are related to Royalty somewhere along the line. It was Royal Ascot time and Paddy Power had priced up the colour of the Queen Mothers dress on the first day. Of course it didn’t take long for one of the ´have nots´ to ask Jake to use his connections to find out what colour it would be. One call to Prince Harry later and the answer was orange. The chaps lumped on and celebrated in fine style as the carriage container the Queen Mum was a sea of orange. There was a minor stand off when Paddy Power tried to use the ´It’s not orange but Tangerine card´ but they coughed up in the end to avoid a right royal scandal, salad days indeed.


One for the ´have nots´

Talking of He who is blessed he informed me recently he has purchased a racehorse called ´myface´. Apparently its not much good but he is looking forward to the ladies encouraging it home in a close finish. He also took my sister to Wimbledon, centre court, lunch, free bar, the works, I hope he realises she got married last year.

A Barrymore joke arrived in the inbox recently which tickled me, it is as follows

Michael Barrymore was asked by a reporter yesterday if he would be appearingin panto this year?
"No chance" snapped Barrymore, "I did Aladdin 6 years ago and I'venever heard the end of it".

Lastly some very disappointing news reached me last week. Gambling legend Tony Bloom held his stag do in Stringfellows a couple of weeks ago and if I had known I could have easily ligged my way in. Albi, The Camel and He who is blessed were all in attendance and reported back that not only was it a free bar all night but that everyone was given 200 quid of funny money to spend on lap dances, I now know what my friend Bobby meant know when he tried to explain to me the definition of a `cry wank`.

A cry wank, not just for Valentines day