Low life
Losers
Jeffrey Bernard
There's a pub called 'The Shears' a few miles east of Salisbury that we stop at on our way to and from the race course and, like Salisbury race course, it's a friendly spot. I got involved there last Tuesday with two bookmakers and one of those publicansw ho's never in hisown pub but always in someone else's. He is a marvellous illustration of a racing man's attitude towards money and priorities. Come to think of it, drinking people are a bit the same. I'll explain. The publican lost quite heavily on the day. On one occasion he even had £250 on a 2-1 favourite that got beaten a neck. After every set-back he returned to the bar for a wistful laugh and a large gin and tonic and you couldn't meet a better loser than this fellow. It wasn't until a barmaid inadvertently removed his halffilled tonic water bottle that he began to scream. I know the feeling exactly.
When I think about the number of bets and whiskies that my wife, in the short time we have been married, has converted into bottles of bleach, packets of detergent, tins of cat food, gallons of washing up liquid, to say nothing of quantitie sof shoe polish, corn flakes, fly spray, instant coffee and fire light ers — well, it makes the blood boil. You can understand how this poor publican felt. I myself have been so injured by inattentive barmaids recently that I have been forced to convert to lime and soda so as to avoid these painful scenes involving fractions of 15p. Luckily we managed to cheer him up a bit with a tip from the horse's mouth for the last winner but as he reeled off into the night, hours later, he was still muttering about the missing tonic and not his racing losses.
A nice man really and watching him run up and down the grandstand steps, to and from the bookmakers I was reflecting that, by and large, people who waste their time at the races are mostly fairly all right. Unfortunately, in the middle of unusually benign thoughts, I was introduced to one of these shits in racing who really stand out as such. The man in question used to be a trainer until he had his licence taken away some years ago and was put on a diet of porridge for a couple of years. If I was anywhere near a cuttings library at this moment I could tell you about it in detail but, roughly speaking, it was over a case of putting a ringer in a race and then shooting and burying the horse after it had won. Anyway, there he was looking smug in a blazer with a meaningless badge on it and asking me if his name 'rang bells'.
He then went on to tell me that God knows how many publishers were after him for a biography and didn't I think it would be a splendid idea for him to get one written. I told him it wasn't a particularly good idea unless he was going to own up one hundred per cent to everything. 'Oh, I couldn't do that', he said. 'You see, if I did that then I'd hurt a couple of people and I've never hurt anyone'. He then started waffling in a Pinteresque way about someone in his ghastly past and he was a lousy actor. 'I shook hands with a man once and I never thought he'd go back on his word'. Well, if it wasn't Pinter he'd read a lot of 'Sapper' or Percy F. Westerman in the nick. 'Yes', he repeated shaking his head slowly, 'I shook hands with a man a long time ago'. It was a dreadful performance and I fled hoping to find my publican friend only to bump into an angry little Ken Payne.
Surprise, surprise. There he was over from America and hoping to buy a few yearlings for his new patron over there and seething with indignation on account of references I made about him in print and in particular to his book The Coup which I reviewed in this journal. He said that his solicitors had advised him to sue me and I told him to help himself. I actually had to explain to the poor chap that if he did win a case then the money wouldn't come out of my pocket so much as the publishers. For a moment I thought he was going to hang one on me and said so. 'What you'd really like to do Ken is to hit me wouldn't you?"No', he said, and then taking the text for the day from 'Sapper' again, he said, 'I have never wished any man any harm.' D'you know these people actually believe what they say?
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