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SPORTING.

MORE CHRISTMAS CRACKERS. BY “MOTUROA.” (Continued from page 7.) He was a Muggins from Muggins*ville, and Billy the Rook and Toby the Tyke had got him in tow. Muggins had “a roll” that Polthogue couldn't jump over, and, to quote the Rook, •’the trucks were very empty” with this pair of “gueseers.” 'The “plucking” of Muggins was easy. Billy the Rook had been introduced to Muggins as a big owner, and Toby as his trainer. They had nothing running in the earlier races, but my talking mysteriously of “readies,” “frame-ups,” “morals,” and suchlike they impressed “the pigeon." who imagined that they had “the right oil.” Toby whispered in Muggin's ear that "No 7” was “the goods” in the Hurdles, and Billy generously offered to do the commission for the trio. “Won't •spoil the dividend by putting it on ilie tote,” explained Billy, “I know a bookie outside the gates that will ‘set’ us to any amount.” Muggins “fanned” himself. ami tore off a score from his roll, which Billy quickly took, and disappeared in the crowd. The horses were lined up when Billy returned, and he reported that everything was “jake,” and that No. 7 was sure to pay “a motzer.” The race started, and No. 7, who previously had never got beyond the first fence, was seen to be bowling along nicely in front, jump ng splendidly. Billy -anj Toby exchanged glances but there war. still a mile to go, and anytmr.g may happen when horse i are in the air The field closed up at tdis - a nee. and throe or four horses, including No. 7. appeared to have a phance. It was a shushing race home, and No. 7 just scored by a neck away. Muggins was jubilant. Billy and Toby in despair. “We won!” shouted Muggins. “Won,” -echoed Billy scornfully, “lost, you mean! Beat on the post, and no second dividend,” and grabbing .Muggins arms they rushed him into the bar. Billy had visions of police, magistrates, and durance vile, and was inwardly cursing the blundering Toby, who was also doing a bit of hard thinking. However, they plied Jjjuggins with refreshanents, and hoped for some means of escape to present itself. Bye and bye Plugging happened to glance out the window, and the judge’s box being in his line of vision he saw the magic numbers: 7 3 2 “Look,” he yelled, “We won all right,” and he pointed out the numbers. The Rook turned stone cold, and was getting ready to •break for it” when Toby came to the rescue. Slapping the mug on the back, he laughed loudly, saying, “Poor old Muggins the mug. You're the biggest melon ever grown. Why”—with withering scorn—“they’re the runners in the next race!” DOING IT IN STYLE. Racecourse luncheon has improved in recent years, but there was a time when |he man who blew in for a bit of chicken (of uncertain age) and trifle (of unknown pedigree) took his life in his hands. Not so the fortunate few who “carred” it to the races-, bringing their own lunch, and partaking of fowl or duck, and a slice of ham, washed down with a glass of ale, in the car under the trees. Those who were less fortunate must have envied their friends who “picnicked” de luxe, and it is -of such an incident that this par is penned. It was at Waverley the year that Sir Antrim beat “Monty” Mills’ Ratana by a nose in the cup, and a party of “the lads” were wending their way from the car rank towards the grandstand, when a cheery Wanganui sport (let’s call him “Chaddy”) hailed the party, and inquired if we had dined. No, we hadn’t. Then nothing would suit our friend but that we should have “a snack” in the car. Pointing to a big Cadillac, he said, “you’ll find a hamper in the back seat, with plenty to eat and drink, and just hop in and help yourselves. He was going over to collect a divvy, he said, “but we were quite welcome, etc., etc.” wi course we jumped at the invitation, and what a blow out we had! Fowl, turkey, ham and tongue, jellies, trifle, and fruit, English ale, port wine, and cigars. Gee! It was great. After a leisurely repast we straightened up the hamper and strolled across just in time to see Denise Orme roll home in the Flying. Then we met “Chaddy.” “Had a. good ‘binder’?” he -asked. “By jove, yes,” we chorussed. “You do things in style, old chap,” I said. “I do?” he inquired, affecting an air of surprise. “Yes, of course,” I replied. i “You float up to the races in a fine, big car and bring a Grand Hotel ‘spread’ I with you. That’s what I call doing things in style.” “£hat wasn't my car,” he calmly replied. “That it was a friend’s,” I presume. “No,” he said, ■and, catching an amused twinkle in his eye, we promptly demanded to know whose car it was. and whose hamper. “I’m dashed if I know.” he replied with a laugh, and strolled off, leaving us paralysed!

Permanent link to this item
Hononga pūmau ki tēnei tūemi

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TDN19221215.2.50.32.4

Bibliographic details
Ngā taipitopito pukapuka

Taranaki Daily News, 15 December 1922, Page 8 (Supplement)

Word count
Tapeke kupu
858

SPORTING. Taranaki Daily News, 15 December 1922, Page 8 (Supplement)

SPORTING. Taranaki Daily News, 15 December 1922, Page 8 (Supplement)

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