BREAKING NEWS.
Created | Updated Jul 1, 2010
Last night, in dimly lit, secret meetings spread right across the length and breadth of the United Kingdom, great numbers of disgruntled members of the racing world were drawn together through video conferencing facilities, to discuss ways and means of improving the lot of it's underprivileged work force. In cold freezing conditions, in quite often unheated barns, it was not at all a surprise to see inflamed emotions being vented by members fed up to the back teeth by the lack of respect for the efforts put in by the rank and file. And just who are these members of whom we speak? Well the answer is simple my friends. The voices raised in anger came from none other than the racehorses themselves.
As it was the first of any kind of such undertaking, initially the gatherings in all of the designated meeting places were a complete and utter shambles. Most thought the occasion to be little more than a forum for the venting of their spleen. But it wasn't long before it became abundantly clear that as things stood, they were rapidly going nowhere. And so after much bickering and shouting, each gathering finally managed to put forth a mouth piece to ensure that their personal collective had a voice.
Once the ongoing procedure was straightened out, the conference got down to the business at hand. The meeting was long and at times rather heated, and it dragged on into the wee hours of the morning. Opinions covering just about all topics were raised, but as the list of grievances put forth by the members was ridiculously large in number, it was decided that the first meeting should be limited to outstanding matters of importance.
It was quickly agreed that a major figure was needed to front the as yet unnamed organization. After much consideration, and it has to admitted, a great deal of anger from some quarters, namely the elderly, the females and the hunt brigade, who all wanted the power base to come from their clique, the nomination was offered that one Sea The Stars should become Spokeshorse for the rank and file. It was duly seconded and carried. The long, tedious work then began.
Just before dawn, the conference was wrapped up, much to the delight of all involved, especially those enlisted by the various sectors to wrestle with the interests of it's respective members. It was at this point that Spokeshorse Sea The Stars held his first press conference. Before beginning, he asked that in the interests of the group which he now represented, that he should, while acting in the capacity of Spokeshorse, be referred to as Mr. S. T. Stars.
“First up ladies and gentlemen of the press, I'd like to thank you all for your attendance here this morning.” said Mr. Stars. “ I fully realize that the God awful weather must have been a real problem for those of you who had some traveling to do. I would however ask you to spare a thought for our local members who had to get here on bloody foot, and not in animal covered heated car seats.” He went on to say, “Although reluctant at first to accept the post, it is with great pride that I now stand before you as the of Spokeshorse for the Federation Against Racehorse Tension. (F.A.R.T)
“I have here a list of demands I'll be taking to the BHA next Monday. I won't go into too much detail, but needless to say Mr. Roy, Chairman of the board, will get a real ear bashing” he said. “We're only asking for a fair go. We slave our guts out on the track, in some cases earning millions, and in return, we get fed. Is it too much to ask for a small cut?" he uttered in exasperation. “And another thing that gets right up the member's noses, is this stupid naming system we're saddled with. Could any of you imagine being lumbered with a moniker like Old Boxhead? How cruel is that?” he asked. “And it may interest you to know that one of our members in presently undergoing extensive counseling, due to his owners complete lack of empathy. The idiots had the temerity to name him Fame And Glory. Expectation followed him everywhere. And try as he might to live up to the expectations of those who demanded that he match his name, he never seemed to satisfy them. They always wanted more. He finally cracked when they started to refer to him as FAG.” said Mr. Stars. “And at the other end of the scale, we have insufferable types with names like Imperial Commander, who mince about as though they have some sort of foreign object wedged firmly in their rear ends.”
Before winding up Mr. Stars was forced to angrily rebut wild rumours that he and a few close friends were thinking of moving from the barn into the comfort of the farmhouse. He was heard to mutter to himself as he trotted away “ Four legs good...two legs bad...four legs good...
As it was the first of any kind of such undertaking, initially the gatherings in all of the designated meeting places were a complete and utter shambles. Most thought the occasion to be little more than a forum for the venting of their spleen. But it wasn't long before it became abundantly clear that as things stood, they were rapidly going nowhere. And so after much bickering and shouting, each gathering finally managed to put forth a mouth piece to ensure that their personal collective had a voice.
Once the ongoing procedure was straightened out, the conference got down to the business at hand. The meeting was long and at times rather heated, and it dragged on into the wee hours of the morning. Opinions covering just about all topics were raised, but as the list of grievances put forth by the members was ridiculously large in number, it was decided that the first meeting should be limited to outstanding matters of importance.
It was quickly agreed that a major figure was needed to front the as yet unnamed organization. After much consideration, and it has to admitted, a great deal of anger from some quarters, namely the elderly, the females and the hunt brigade, who all wanted the power base to come from their clique, the nomination was offered that one Sea The Stars should become Spokeshorse for the rank and file. It was duly seconded and carried. The long, tedious work then began.
Just before dawn, the conference was wrapped up, much to the delight of all involved, especially those enlisted by the various sectors to wrestle with the interests of it's respective members. It was at this point that Spokeshorse Sea The Stars held his first press conference. Before beginning, he asked that in the interests of the group which he now represented, that he should, while acting in the capacity of Spokeshorse, be referred to as Mr. S. T. Stars.
“First up ladies and gentlemen of the press, I'd like to thank you all for your attendance here this morning.” said Mr. Stars. “ I fully realize that the God awful weather must have been a real problem for those of you who had some traveling to do. I would however ask you to spare a thought for our local members who had to get here on bloody foot, and not in animal covered heated car seats.” He went on to say, “Although reluctant at first to accept the post, it is with great pride that I now stand before you as the of Spokeshorse for the Federation Against Racehorse Tension. (F.A.R.T)
“I have here a list of demands I'll be taking to the BHA next Monday. I won't go into too much detail, but needless to say Mr. Roy, Chairman of the board, will get a real ear bashing” he said. “We're only asking for a fair go. We slave our guts out on the track, in some cases earning millions, and in return, we get fed. Is it too much to ask for a small cut?" he uttered in exasperation. “And another thing that gets right up the member's noses, is this stupid naming system we're saddled with. Could any of you imagine being lumbered with a moniker like Old Boxhead? How cruel is that?” he asked. “And it may interest you to know that one of our members in presently undergoing extensive counseling, due to his owners complete lack of empathy. The idiots had the temerity to name him Fame And Glory. Expectation followed him everywhere. And try as he might to live up to the expectations of those who demanded that he match his name, he never seemed to satisfy them. They always wanted more. He finally cracked when they started to refer to him as FAG.” said Mr. Stars. “And at the other end of the scale, we have insufferable types with names like Imperial Commander, who mince about as though they have some sort of foreign object wedged firmly in their rear ends.”
Before winding up Mr. Stars was forced to angrily rebut wild rumours that he and a few close friends were thinking of moving from the barn into the comfort of the farmhouse. He was heard to mutter to himself as he trotted away “ Four legs good...two legs bad...four legs good...
