“I’m telling ya Rory, my fathers 2nd cousin sweeps the yard for Mullins once a month and he says your mans a cert!”
“C’mere Rory, you see that horse there!?”... “I do Paddy”... “Well I was told by a good source that he’s absolutely flying below in the yard and won’t be beaten, make sure you don’t tell too many people though because his odds will go to shite”... “No bother Paddy, thanks for that”.
All this general craic does be going on in every pub and bookies up and down the country, ‘tip’ my bollox if you ask me, Just because Tony Martins horse is flying in his yard, what’s to say Noel Meade’s horse in Noels yard that will be running in the same race isn’t in the same kind of form. ‘Pure cowboys Ted’.
Anyways I was very stressed one day; I think it was the 3rd day of the festival. Things weren’t going too well for me to say the least. I’m telling ya, for the life of me I couldn’t back a winner. The jockey bating the horse before they even had a lap of the track done, “look at my horse, been shaken up already, jaysus sake”. The one or two horses were going well for me, leading for the whole race and then absolutely die a death coming up the famous hill “g’wan bate him ruby, go on, ahhh he’s fucking banjoed, feck sake”, the same aul usual bollix when your luck isn’t in.
So there I was sitting at home watching the coverage on RTE, in bad aul form to tell you the truth.
I then got a text off a number I didn’t recognise, the message just read “flying eagle won’t be bet in the 4.10”...nothing else!! I looked at the clock, she read 3.55, “ah shit”, so me and a friend of mine jumped into the motor and flew down the road to get the bet on, both of us knowing well that the horse didn’t stand a chance of winning because of the luck we were having, but sure jaysus it was a ‘tip’ so she had to win !!!
I parked er up outside the bookies in a bus lane and also blocking an entrance to the local pub, while my buddy flew in to get the bet on! I was sitting there saying to myself “thisss gobshite now is probably talking crap to some aul lad and won’t get the bet on.”
Then all of a sudden a bus came along and gave me a beep to get out of the lane…”fucking typical” I says to myself! So I stuck her in reverse, then I just heard a bang at the back of the car and a loud “ahhhh”
I looked in the wing mirror and all I seen was a worn down walking stick going about 6 feet into the air. “O holy god, I’m after killing a poor aul crater”. I jumped out of the motor and there was a man, not too far off his 80th birthday, gradually pealing himself off the ground. ‘My god I’m so sorry sir, are you ok???’
Thank the lord be te jaysus he was ok, a bit shook, but ok. So being in a bit of shock myself, I didn’t know what else to do other than guide the poor owl wounded pensioner into the local bar, sat him down, bought him a straight whiskey and walked back outside. “God I was lucky there” I says to myself!
Sure of course the day I was having, didn’t I come out of the pub to find some dorky aul clown trying to clamp my out of tax car. “Ehhhhh relax there pal, I’m going now!”
Just as I said that my friend came out of the bookies, big thick bulling head on him and says “That poxy horse fell at the last, he was 5 lengths clear coming up to it, ploughed into it and sent McCoy off into the crowd”.
”Ahh for faccckkk sakeee, right enough is enough’, so I moved the car off into a respectable place to keep the clamper man happy, Turned off the phone and joined the poor aul shaken up man, that I’d nearly murdered, on the high stool for a few pints.
I suppose as the famous song goes,
“ma mama told me there will be days like this”
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