We popped into The Tent to see chums and to apologise for The Hon’s picture appearing in the Daily Mail. The place was awash with Not Old People including Young Lochinvar who spent 20 minutes complaining about [a] my tipping [b] my lack of winners compared to his six by end of day 2 [c]…
Author: Capt. Kneesup
CHELTENHAM DAY 3
Truth be told, there is not much to report. A supper party of Prawns in a tomato, garlic and chilli sauce, Cottage Pie and peas, Lemon Posset with macerated strawberries, English cheeses, French clarets, a very jolly team of guests and somehow time has flown and as I suspected might happen, I find myself short…
CHELTENHAM DAY 2
We returned from the jolly lunch to find a note from an old friend to say that she had found herself at a loose end and thus watched Cheltenham on the box. She who might weep in Othello for the pitiful Desdemona or for Mimi’s consumption wrote that she had been moved to tears by…
CHELTENHAM DAY 1: No more chanting yogic Uummms, it’s make-your-mind-up time!
This past weekend I spotted and wrote about a 17/2 winner (Dubai Station) that had the form of a donkey seen in a charity advert for a Middle East animal sanctuary, but which also had the whiff of Eau de Plot. Did I suggest you back it? No – I didn’t. I simply mentioned it…
In the eye of the storm before the deluge.
We’re in the eye of Storm Dressdown, the calm epicentre of the surrounding torrent of hot-air and clashing reputations, where we have most of the Cheltenham decs; where we also have a decent idea of what the Festival ground will be (Soft, as I suggested earlier this week) and some small inkling of where our…
The snow-free Players Championship
As King Wenceslaus pops his snow shoes on, and sends some kid off to get the kindling, the snow continues to fall and lies deep and crisp, even here in Lambourn and Cheltenham. In the interest of my readers, I have ventured out to measure the depth of the snow to calculate how many mm…
You only get some bums visit once a year
A tiring but jolly and good Friday in town, where I attend the AGM and annual lunch of The Turf Automobile Society. This august body was only established recently and is closely involved with defining the correct procedures for advancing transport systems and vehicle management for those uninclined or prevented from motoring to or from…
A snapshot of our times
What an exhausting week. By way of example and mindful as ever of this Government’s leadership of the nation, I spent yesterday trying to find some Turnips in line with Ms Coffey’s exhortation to embrace the root vegetable. We don’t have many shops besides the Coop and a very nice Butcher in Lambourn. Neither had…
Don’t let The Gambling Commission ruin your Cheltenham
Another shock retirement this week, with news that Tom Scudamore has called it a day after 25 years in the saddle and has yet to turn 41. Concussion a couple of weeks ago and a realisation that all top athletic professionals (and even the occasional fading boulevardier) neither heal quickly nor creak less with time….
There are bad times just around the corner..
I was minded of Noel Coward’s lyrics this week, when I received a red flag from my Interweb security system, alerting me to a sustained attack on the site, emanating from Hamburg. I have no idea why any little hacker would want to turn me over – an irate bookmaker desperate to stop a sudden…
More small fields and all quiet on the BHA front
Lambourn said goodbye to Cath Walwyn today. Fulke and Cath’s daughter Jane sadly died terribly young from a fast and aggressive cancer, and Isabel her daughter became the focus of all Cath’s maternal instincts. After the Hon and I were married, she became one of my favourite people, and whenever I saw Jane at drinks…
Love The English.
On paper, we were down 9 pts, but with Bangers and Cash a non-runner in the Lucky Last, I backed Castle Robin e/w at 10s for break-even stakes and added the only other trends horse still running, Laskalin, to the ticket, who duly came second for a 65 pts profitable forecast. Sometimes there is a…
Just another brick in the wall
RIP Kit Hesketh-Harvey, an amusing, talented and thoughtful man. Thank heavens that the Welsh Woke Police have got hold of the Delilah issue and rapped it firmly on the head. Thanks to them, we can rest assured that no one will ever sing that song again – live on TV. However in the Six Nations…
Dum di dum di dum di dum…
Once upon a time, a long while ago, I was staying with my cuz in Middle Wallop, where he was with the Army Air Corps, which he would later command. That weekend, he gave a very jolly Sunday drinks party for the locals, which would be followed by a pleasant family lunch. As has often…
Haydock off – An amended view
Saturday morning 10:00am: Andy Murray is giving it some welly on Eurosport and being hugely supported. I am totally bamboozled by how he’s doing it with a metal hip and following the longest grand slam match in history. Is every sporting organisation in the world simply not thinking things through? Why play a match at…
Welcome back to Johnny Rotten and a farewell to Hanmer
Sometime in late 1977, I ran a gaff in Camden Lock called Madisons, which ran the full length of the first floor of the Camden Lock courtyard, directly opposite Dingwalls and Le Routier. I converted the old Lock, Stock and Barrell and former barge horse stables into a strange representation of a truck-stop café or…
RWANDA IS BEGINNING TO LOOK LIKE AN ATTRACTIVE OPTION
I am ashamed by the POL-Fujitsu scandal. My shame stems mainly from thinking this is not how we do things in Blighty. I naively believed we – by which I mean our leaders – would not allow that to happen to people for eighteen months, let alone thirteen years. But my other emotion is of…
I fear Harry hasn’t read any Machiavelli
Because I have a perverse streak in me, I keep a copy of The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli, close by. It is in essence, (and this is a matter of perspective), a constant reminder of what the powerful might/should/could/would need to do to gain and retain power. In theory, Machiavelli’s followers should therefore be able…
Not a clue as to what is happening – but changes still have to be made.
One of BoJo’s mates, Heracles, suggested that “There is nothing permanent except change”, and perhaps this site has been a bit slow in keeping up and worse, even slower in fixing its lack of forward motion. Luckily, via the website Fiverr, where you can find freelancers standing twenty deep to help fix, design, create, and…
Maybe this time I’ll be lucky…
I see no point in dwelling on the past two weeks, in which Raceweb has been dogged by problems associated with emails. We may well have to use a service like Mailchimp in the future, but for the moment let’s see whether this workaround pans out. In the hiatus of striking Santas or whatever, we…
Please God – a jolly Saturday at Cheltenham
As I write this, there is still every chance that some, none, or all of the racing might be abandoned. If only bad weather could stop some other stuff that passes as entertainment. I’m at Cheltenham tomorrow in a cosy box insha’Allah, rounding off a week where I feel blighted by travelling many miles. I…
Will they, won’t they, will they… they will… racing is on today at Cheltenham
Luckily for the developed world, the only public service that is working efficiently is Netflix, and we are thus able to see, hear and emote with the crew of HMS Tiresome. One added bonus will be that our collective airwaves will be full of jokes centred on scenes from the Book of Truth. This one crossed…
Going Cuckoo in Purdah
The trouble with managing this lurgi is the absence of the guiding bark. The Hon is absent having gone to London and then Liverpool for three days, leaving me to my own devices. I had the wit to ensure a sufficiency of life-saving consumables; mince pies, Snorkers, frozen chips, Muffins (of the sort that a…
The Guru Brahmin guides readers in their search for answers
A number of letters are in today’s post bag, including one from a Mrs Blatter, who lives in Hopp Schwiiz Terrace, Geneva, and who wants to know what the teams must do today to qualify and to thus go through to the final 16. Well, Mrs Blatter, in the old days you merely had to…
The Red Wall crumbles
The week has positively flown by, disappearing almost as quickly as the beating heart of my spread-betting account. In the middle of it all, I caught some filthy chest infection which has left me gasping for air – but that might also be due to witnessing some of the soccer being played. I smashed all…
Racing, Footy and a Freebie!
What a week. The Aga saga, which has moved on to the construction of the Kneesup Kitchen at the Chateau d’If, took a turn for the worse with the installation of the quartz worktops. The kitchen supply company had outsourced the installation to, one assumes, the same people who might typically come around and “do…
Cheltenham November – not Open – Meeting Day 2
I was pulled up by a Cheltenham Grandee today when I exclaimed how much I was looking forward to the first day of The Open. Gently chided, I was reminded this is now called The November meeting – because it is in November and is no longer Open. This sort of rebranding happens all the…
The Handmaid’s tipping sheet
I arrive, as ever, late to the party and so am finally able to say “Lumme. That Margaret Attwood and her Handmaid’s Tale. Bleak? … I should cocoa.” I have no idea why, but it passed us by, and it was only a comment along the lines of, “Crikey, who knew they’d get five seasons…
A billion races, less runners, but it pales beside the multiverse
Between last night and this, I ran into the work of Albanian-born cosmologist Laura Mersini-Houghton, who has a fascinating profile piece in The New Scientist this week and who has received wide coverage for her theories surrounding the existence of a multiverse formed at the time of Big Bang. In essence, she has postulated that…
One last gigantic throw of the dice, before we flatten out.
Tomorrow it starts. The last big meeting, the final hurrah for 2022. The Breeders Cup gets underway on Friday, ends on Saturday and sandwiches The Doncaster finale. Somewhere we also have the Haldon Chase and the beginning of the 2 year-recession possibly accompanied by some nuclear hot kimchi and some glowing Ukrainian wheat. For one…
Another memory for the filing drawer marked “Ultra”
No word, for me, can conjure the beauty of youth, the imperiousness of real skill comfortably worn, the vast grandeur of imagination, quite like hearing ” ‘Orance”. I hear that, and I can see O’Toole, camel mounted, singing in the Jordanian valley “The Man Who Broke The Bank at Monte Carlo” and the echoes coming…
A new exciting national PM Hunt season gets under way
We live in a world where it is increasingly difficult not to have some major cause for unsettling angst. Penury, hypothermia, dehydration, pandemic, nuclear war, infrastructure collapse, Starmer, Truss, SNP and Dementia… and that was just this morning’s list. The latter came into sharp focus this AM when I reached for the mouthwash and placed…
Football not the same as Veganism… who knew?
As you might imagine, I was shocked by the Employment Tribunal judgement delivered in McClung v Doosan Babcock Ltd. Caramba, I hear you cry. Not the Unfair dismissal claim by a Rangers supporter who wasn’t given time off by his Celtic-supporting line manager? The very same, says I. Mr Eddie McClung was employed by Doosan…
Cunning plans heaped upon cunning plans.
The torrid arguments about the future of racing continued apace this week. Various pointless assurances about its future have been uttered, and all of them bear an uncanny resemblance to my promising to raise funds for Widows and Orphans by swimming the Atlantic. It might happen – but it is unlikely. We have also had…
Up the Amazon without a stamp
A little shout-out to Amazon, from whom I bought some stamps last June in bulk. What can go wrong with that transaction, I thought. Nothing until I tried exchanging them for stamps with bar codes as required by Royal Mail. This resulted in a curt note from RM, suggesting the stamps are – and this…
Off to Longchamp via Warmington-on-Sea
As the weekend looms, it’s difficult to know how to divide one’s time. The TV alone will be providing: The Singapore Grand Prix (Sunday 1:00 pm), Saturday and Sunday at Longchamp, the decider in Pakistan between them and us in the T20 (Sunday after the Arc), all the racing as shown below, and finally the…
The Fleche was strong -but is racing’s spirit weak?
The Autumn double arrives with The Cambridgeshire, a race with a history that should reinvigorate the spirit and souls of ALL racing fans as they prepare for the long hibernation. Recently, it is a race that has unmasked Group 1 winners masquerading as handicappers. Chief among the founders of its distinguished history is La Fleche,…
Through a glass darkly.
Since we were last together, it is accurate to say that the world has changed, and the impact of those changes is primarily unseen and unmeasured. My equilibrium has been unsettled by the attritional news flow; Henry Ponsonby, a good friend, avoided an annual racing lunch by suddenly dying. James Delahooke, whom I’ve known for…
GOD SAVE THE KING
Raceweb will not be published until after Her Majesty’s Funeral, as a mark of our respect. We give you thanks, O Lord, for the reign of your servant Elizabeth our Queen, and for the example of loving and faithful service which she has given to this nation throughout her life. Eternal rest grant unto her,…
A theatrical evening before Day 2 of Donny
I went to The Barn Theatre in Cirencester last night to see Driving Miss Daisy. The Barn is a relatively new theatre whose newness was stalled by Covid, but it has survived and without much scarring. The offerings to date have pleased me four times and irritated me twice, which is better than Chichester Festival…
Maybe the new PM heralds a time of Boom and Bust
I know, I know – I’m supposed to be a mature adult. Long gone is the former International Boulevardier. Instead, there is a shadow. A chap who has probably handed in his Wild Rover ticket, a quiet, unassuming, philosophical figure occasionally seen in the shadowed corners of The Poona Gymkhana Club with a Chota Peg…
Like Meghan, I am blessed
As the world descends into chaos and the End of Days announces itself with a viral outbreak “of concern” in the Argentine, my week finishes with visits to plumbing centres, tile shops and a search online for Oxygen suppliers to help me get me over the onset of the vapours caused by the additional building…
The circus comes to town.
This week’s diary found me pinning a badge saying “I like Milk from Cows” on a small Ukrainian child. As you might imagine, my historical engagement with young children has been plagued by the conflict between my upbringing and the modern social mores. Young Vlad’s rudimentary English and his impeccable good manners prevented him from…
The York Ebor Day 4
An agonisingly slow day in the office – but not at York where the ground simply got faster. No Stradivarius (not as predicted) and no Trueshan (exactly as predicted). I know my astonishing prescience of likely weather outcomes must have you reeling, but that was before we saw Quickthorn, which must surely have staggered us…
York Day Three
A day full of mixed emotions. The exam results bode well for young Theocrates with two A* and an A. Does this get him into the Maths department of his Uni of choice? Of course not – he is white and middle class and the place must go to someone with lesser grades who has…
York Day 2
Well, there can’t be many times when you get beaten out of sight and you’re cheering the photograph that shows you coming third. The result of that photograph in the Juddmonte International meant for Sir Busker’s owners £55,000 more prize money than the 4th horse – a total of £107,600. Their exceptional horse came third…
York Day 1
Thank God the rain has come. Except, of course, that the concrete-baked ground cannot soak it up, so it runs off. That in turn will lead to flash flooding. Never mind, better on than off, as my old Nanny used to say before packing me off to some Deb’s hop, and if it is going…
But where do I put my Swan?
Just as I was about to send you some small note last Saturday on the weekend’s racing, The Hon Plantagenet dragged me away to give thanks for Lord Aged P’s 90th. This involved Lunch for 80 on Saturday and Drinks for 100 on Sunday, for which I was given a three-line whip. Even the standard…
Good Moaning all – A sad catch-up
My new laptop arrives, just in time to miss the tips for the last day of Glorious. Given that I managed to clear my Fitzdares account debt on Saturday, I fear you might think I have let you down. I should tell you that the other six betting accounts remain firmly in the red, and…
And so it begins….
There is a lot of pressure this week as we prepare for the builders to arrive and we also move into temporary offices. The Wifi needs some resolution (as in trying to download a photograph in under 30 minutes), but before then, we have to go to Goodwood. I use the phrase “have to” in…