Mangled Thoughts

Posted by D
Having observed the reaction to Mamool’s and his pace setter’s,Mill Street, race in the cup and listened to the comments of some pundits all off beam, the explanation is justified pique. Put yourself in either of these two jet-setting man of the world type chaps polished dancing shoes.

They flew 50000 kms in order to don the glad rags on the day of days, when birds and butterflies are all a twitter and young gay types dance diurnal rythms, champaigne flows by the bucket and cigars emit heavenly wreaths of smoke. While mares and young fillies showing their fetlocks and upper carriage from within the creations of their haute couterier. A day any blue-blooded gent is out to partake fulsomely in a bit of sport, I presume mamool hasn’t been de-nutted.

By mid morning, not even a tiny bubble has passed their lips nor nostrils soaked even a faint wreath of cigar smoke. The ladies are all over the other chaps who have been happily imbibing all morning. Instead, some old crone is boring the britches off them. Then, at 3, someone prods them in the ribs, `how about a gallop around the paddock’, while overhearing someoneose of tongue remarking on rather a lot have punted their little all the duo.

Between them, Mamool and Mill St. exacted revenge for what proved a nasty day out for them. They hadn’t travelled 50000kms to wax elquently at a meeting of the local chapter of A.A. or attend a tea-totallers’ picnic.

The clever touch was Mamool’s,effecting an injury sufficient to skip the office for a few months for a restorative stay at Claridges or somewhere no less hospitable. Punters might take careful note of this insider’s tattle and at future meets, pass a bucket of champers and a few cigars to their favourite neddies.