More than my jobsworth-twice!
Such as how come a man who has recently made a few critical utterances about the presence of betting shops on the streets of the capital, could align this viewpoint with his own job on the side as an illegal bookie? More to the point, an illegal
by Graham Sharpe
T
and Boris Johnson. However, I read recently that
JP turned up for the launch of his employee A P McCoy’s (latest) autobiography, only to be asked for his invite before being allowed in. And a couple of weeks ago
here is no obvious connection between JP McManus
bookie, who took a tenner off of yours truly in a bet on which I very much doubt any revenue will be paid to Her Majesty’s Customs and Excise department, or whichever government department is responsible these days for collecting bookies’ dues. The story began some ten
I was at a function at which the guest of honour was Boris Johnson. Now, as he was about the last winner I backed - when he became Mayor of London - I was delighted that his car drew up very close to the door of the function venue, so I was able to shake the Mayoral hand as he emerged blinking into the bright lights illuminating the way in to the event. I was close to the entrance,
and invited him to go in ahead of me, which he attempted to do, only to be stopped in his tracks by a jobsworth with a clipboard, who was asking everyone for a look at their ticket so that he could tell them which table they would be seated at.
He stopped Boris, perhaps the best known man in London, and asked him for his name and ticket. A slightly confused Boris looked a little nonplussed and had to be rescued by a minion who effected the introductions and managed to avoid the guest of honour having to give his speech from outside the location. I didn’t get chance, however, to discuss other matters in any depth with Boris.
visit
www.bosmag.co.uk
years ago, when I spotted an article Boris had written in which he offered to wager that the Euro would not become this country’s main currency within the next decade - by January 3, 2012 to be precise. I wrote to Boris wondering whether he might be willing to lay a bet from yours truly on that matter - as I had the suspicion that we might indeed be en route to joining that troubled currency. Back came a letter on House of Commons’ headed notepaper, in which Boris told me: “Many thanks for your letter dated 3rd January, with your £10 bet that the Euro will be the main currency in the UK on or before 3rd January 2012. “This is to confi rm that your bet has been accepted.” The letter did not contain
confi rmation of the odds at which my bet was struck and I must confess that all these years later I am a little hazy myself about the details, although 50/1 seems to ring a bell with me. Anyway, they could have been 50,000/1 and the bet would still have lost, as it happens! But that’s not the point. I
am now strongly considering dropping the favourite to be the next leader of the Conservative Party - for that is he - a note demanding the return of my tenner on the basis that he was not legally entitled to accept it from me, not being a legally signed up bookie and all. Let’s see him get out of that
one. I mentioned earlier that AP
McCoys’s new autobiography is not his fi rst. In the same year - 2002 - that I was placing my ill fated Euro-wager with Boris, a book entitled ‘McCoy The Autobiography’ was on the streets, published by Michael Joseph, bearing the accurate assessment by John McCririck that “the man is a colossus, we have never seen his like before”.(By the way, let me mention at this point that while out shopping in Brighton recently I managed to purchase a very life-like - in all but size- model of Big Mac, which, when pressed in an appropriate place, utters a few of his favourite soundbites. But I digress) Now, that excellent tome is not to be confused with the 2010 title published by the Racing Post, entitled ‘McCoy’, edited by Brough Scott. Which, to be fair, does contain a great many excellent colour photos showing the great man in action, and also contains quote a lot of excellent words by Brough and one or two others. Nor, I must say, should either of these two be confused with the originally entitled ‘A P McCoy: My Autobiography’, the latest look at the as yet uncompleted life and times of the great Tony. This one is published by
Orion Books, (£20, although you know where to fi nd it cheaper, I’m sure) and brings the story of perhaps/probably the greatest jump jockey ever, as up to date as any book can. He has always denied it,
of John Samuels’ new book, ‘Down The Bookies’ (Racing Post, £18.99) if only because I wrote its foreword. It deals with the fi rst half century of betting shops and is by a man who has been there almost every step of the way and who combines his own personal history with that of the High Street landmarks in a tale packed with anecdote and information. John is part of IBAS these
I may be biased in favour
but I for one would not be remotely surprised if the next McCoy autobiography dealt at some length with his successful training career. However, he should recall that similar riding maestros like Lester Piggott and John Francome to name but two, never managed to match their riding achievements as handlers. I mentioned the photos
in Brough’s AP book and if racing pics are your passion you could do worse than invest in - or get someone to buy you - a copy of Edward Whitaker’s latest collection of snaps, ‘Beyond the Frame’ (Racing Post, £30) which is simply stunning.
days and what he doesn’t know about and had personal experience of in the world of betting shops is barely worth hearing about. Readers of this column should track down a copy. I went racing at Fontwell on a Sunday recently, enjoying an excellent meal in the course’s splendid new grandstand, surrounded by families also having a good time in the glorious late autumn weather. As ever I didn’t back a winner but decided to enhance the day by taking my wife to experience the excitement of getting really close to the fences and seeing close up the concentation of the horses and riders as they take the jumps on the track’s famed fi gure of eight circuit, which you can do by going out to the centre of the course and nipping across from one obstacle to the other as the runners make their way round. Only it didn’t happen, as the second jobsworth to appear in this column, and one of the fi rst I have come across at this or any other racecourse for some while, decided that he couldn’t possibly permit racegoers to nip the few yards across the track to get to the middle of the course - even though the runners had gone down to the start some considerable distance away and there were still a few minutes to go before the race got underway. Ignoring the pleas of the spectators he instead permitted a fellow racecourse worker, older by some years and more doddery looking than most of the racegoers who wanted to do the same thing, to make his way out to the fi gure of eight. Miserable git.■
BOS Magazine November/December 2011 11
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