A fool and his money will see you now...

There's *hooge* excitement in the office today as it's the first day of The Cheltenham Festival.  For those of you who aren't au fait with National Hunt Racing, perhaps I should explain.  The Chelt Fest is the premier event for fans of horses that can jump.

Racing is divided between those who like their horses to leap and those who believe that had God wanted horses to leave the ground even for an instant, then He'd have give them massive flaps of skin betwixt their fore and aft legs, much like the flying squirrel.

 Kauto Star

The fact that He didn't (they "reason") makes His intent clear.  Racing fans get really het-up about this shit, really het-up.  What does it matter, frankly?

I'll be honest with you - I can't abide horse racing.  Actually, it's not so much the racing itself; it's the human flotsam that hangs around it like a bad smell.  They're so wilfully unfashionable, and yet they revel in it; they ought to be locked-up.  Your average racing fan makes John McCririck look relatively normal.  Think about *that* next time you're walking past a bookies.  Eugh.

East End Style Geezerism

Money is a big deal in the horse world (Quelle surprise). If the people where I work are not actually piddling greenbacks up the wall backing nags, they're talking about it at some length. There was a protracted discussion in the office today about London slang terms for amounts of cash.

Most British readers will be familiar with the expressions "pony" (£50) and "monkey" (£500). Anyone brought up in the UK will have heard them a million times. But have you heard of a "macaque" (£11)? Or better still an "otter", which apparently is an old east end term for £8.50. It wasn't made clear why one might need a one-word, handy shorthand for this arcane amount. If I find out, I'll let you know.