Fer feck’s sake Fallon


Oh jaysus. Poor Keiren. He’s really gone and done it this time.

The Fallon fella was only doing his job and making sure his nag didn’t win when it wasn’t supposed to so that the one of Jamie Osbourne’s got over the line first. Where was the harm in that?

But the eejit had to go and get that horse of his so far out in front that his arse would have looked like a mouse’s diddy to the rest of them. Then he had to put the anchors on so heavy that you could almost hear the beast screeching to a bleedin halt.

Fair play, the man’s a fine jockey but for a crooked fella he’s damn poor at the cheating. Me, I would have eaten me way through half a cow and weighed the beggar down so much that he didn’t have a baldy.

To make matters even worse, the eejit only had to go and tell a couple of undercover reporters that his nag wasn’t going to win. The fella’s got a gob on him like an overworked hoor. A right bollocks he is.

Now the gits at the Jocket Club are all over him like flies on shite. And that means the feckers will be after the rest of us an all. Jaysus.

Ah sure and the Jockey Club are as much use as a cigarette lighter on a motorbike. I’m sure they don’t know the end that shits from the end that eats but they sure know how to make the working man’s life a bleedin misery.

All this hassle is bad for me digestion I tell youse. Sure and it’s putting a proper appetite on me.

Hungry? I could eat chips from John McCririck’s knickers.

See youse at the track.

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