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 Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 11:52 am Post subject: Bookies |
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Bookies:
Bookies and Bettors
Two Hundred Years of Gambling
Hardover
By 'Nobody-has-ever-bet-enough-on-a-winning-horse' - Richard Sasuly
| Quote: | Britain led the rest of the world by more than a century in Throughbred horse breeding. It led by at least half a century in development of bookmaking. And, though the lead narrows, it still shows the way in the blending of public and private interest in the control of betting.
As with monuments or ancient manuscripts, old forms of betting have been preserved. Somehow they manage to coexist with newer forms. Presumably this feat owes much to three hundred years of experience with the kind of political contrivance which makes social pressures bearable. (From Chapter 16, Back to Britain at p. 219). |
| Quote: | Overall, the public and private betting apparatus of Great Britain offers a remarkable exercise in adaptation through variety. It also demonstrates tolderance in the midst of strife. According to Geoffrey Hamlyn (in "Bookmakers and Backers," The British Racehorse, June 1978), before passage of the betting laws of the early 1960s, "there was a noisy clamor for a Tote Monopoly, and it was known that the Jockey Club Stewards of the day favoured the proposal."
It is hard to grasp the notion of any sort of monopoly being imposed on a betting structure so quirky, or downright baroque. I can imagine the bookmakers offering long odds against it. But whatever happens to gambling in the future, it would seem certain that the on-course bookies' tic-tac men will be the last to go. Their hand signals are as much a timeless symbol as the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace -- and a good deal more skillful. (-- p. 232) |
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| Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 12:07 pm Post subject: |
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Sam the Sudden
Hardcover
By P.G. Wodehouse
| Quote: | | If the Cohen Bros., of Covent Garden, have a fault, it is that they sometimes alllow their clients to select clothes that are a shade too prismatic for anyone who is not at the same time purchasing a banjo and a straw hat with a crimson ribbon. Fittings take place in a dimly lit interior, with the result that suits destined to make phlegmatic horses shy in the open street seem in the shop to possess merely a rather pleasing vivacity. One of these Sam had bought , and it had been a blunder on his part. If he had intended to sing comic songs from a punt at Henley Regatta, he would have been suitably, even admirably, attired. But as a private gentleman he was a little on the bright side. He looked, in fact, like a bookmaker who won billiard tournaments, and Kay gazed at him with repulsion. (From the chapter entitled, Sam is Much Too Sudden, p. 80) |
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editor
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| Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 12:09 pm Post subject: |
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A Few Quick Ones
Paperback
By the incomparable Prune Gnasher Steelschack at his finest
| Quote: | "You say you're judging this Bonny Babies thing?"
"Yes, but that doesn't get me anywhere. I can't ask Purkiss for another fiver."
"You don't have to. As I see it, the matter is quite simple. Your primary object is to divert your wife's mind from gold cuff links and pawn shops - to give her, in other words, something else to think about. Very well. Enter that little gargoyle of yours and award hinm the first prize, and she will be so delighted that gold cuff links will fade out of her mind. I guarantee this. I am not a mother myself, but I understand a mother's heart from soup to nuts. In her pride at the young plugugly's triumph everything else will be forgotten."
Bingo stared. It seemed to him that the other's brain, that brain whose subtle scheming had so often chiselled fellow members of the Drones out of half-crowns and even larger sums, must have blown a fuse.
"But Oofy, old man, reflect. If I judge a Bonny Babies contest and raise the hand of my personal baby with the words 'The winnah!', I shall be roughly handled, if not lynched. These mothers are tough stuff. You were there when Freddie Wigeon was telling us about what happened to him at Cannes."
Oofy clicked his tongue impatiently. (From Leave it to Algy at pgs. 135-135) |
Surely no bookie would give odds on a Bonnie Babies contest?
| Quote: | You think not?
Well, think again. |
| Quote: | "Mr. McAlpin?"
"Speaking."
"This is Mr. Prosser."
"Oh, yes?"
"Listen, Mr. McAlpin, I'm down at Bramley-on-Sea, and they are having a Bonny Babies contest tomorrow. I'm entering my little nephew."
"Oh, yes?"
"And I thought it would add to the interest of the proceedings if I had a small bet on. Do your activities as a turf accountant extend to accepting wagers on seaside Bonny Baby competitions?"
"Certainly. We cover all sporting events."
"What odds will you give against the Prosser colt?"
""Your nephew, you say?"
"That's right."
"Does he look like you?"
"There is quite a resemblance."
"Then you can have fifty to one."
"Right. In tenners." (Ibid., pgs. 136-7) |
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editor
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| Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 12:15 pm Post subject: |
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Jeeves Takes Charge
Paperback
By P.G. Wodehouse
A price differential that would make Plum blush:
| Quote: | "It's like this, Bertie," said Eustace, settling down cosily. "As I told you in my letter, there are nine of us marooned in this desert spot, reading with old Heppenstall. Well, of course, nothing is jollier than sweating up the Classics when it's a hundred in the shade, but there does come a time when you begin to feel the need of a little relaxation; and, by Jove, there are absolutely no facilities for relaxation in this place whatever. And then Steggles got this idea. Steggles is one of our reading-party, and, between ourselves, rather a worm as a general thing. Still, you have to give him credit for getting this idea."
"What idea?"
"Well, you know how many parsons there are round about here. There are about a dozen hamlets within a radius of six miles, and each hamlet has a church and each church has a parson and each parson preaches a sermon every Sunday. Tomorrow week - Sunday the twenty-third - we're running off the great Sermon Handicap. Steggles is making the book. Each parson is to be clocked by a reliable steward of the course, and the one that preaches the longest sermon wins. Did you study the race-card I sent you?"
"I couldn't understand what it was all about."
"Why, you chump, it gives the handicaps and the current odds on each starter. I've got another one here, in case you've lost yours. Take a careful look at it. It gives you the thing in a nutshell. Jeeves, old son, do you want a sporting flutter?" From The Great Sermon Handicap at pgs. 168-169) |
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editor
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| Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 12:19 pm Post subject: |
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The New York Times
Excessive, Complacent Bugler
Britain: Little Green Men Given Better Odds
By Agence France Presse
April 26/07
| Quote: | | British bookmakers slashed the odds on discovering extraterrestrial intelligence after astronomers announced Tuesday that that they had found an Earth-like planet 20 light-years away. Deciding to take less risk, William Hill cut its odds on proving the existence of extraterrestrial life from 1,000-to-1 to 100-to-1. For William Hill to pay out on an aliens bet, the prime minister has to confirm officially the existence of intelligent extra-terrestrial life and it has to be done within a year of the bet being placed. “We have come a cropper before, when, in the early 1960s we offered 1000-to-1 about man walking on the moon before 1970,” a spokesman said. |
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editor
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| Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 12:24 pm Post subject: |
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Uncle Fred in Springtime
Hardcover
The Autograph Edition
By P.G. Wodehouse
| Quote: | Few members of the Drones are at their brightest and alertest in the morning. There was a puzzled murmur. A Bean said, "What did he say?" and a Crumpet whispered, "The what Stakes?"
"I was explaining the how-you-do-it of the Hat Stakes to my friend Mr. Twistleton over there, and the Clothes Stakes are run on precisely the same principle. There is at the present moment a gentleman in the telephone booth along the corridor, and I have just taken the precaution to instruct a page-boy to shove a wedge under the door, thus ensuring that he will remain there and so accord you all ample leisure in which to place your wagers. Coo!" said Claude Pott, struck by an unpleasant idea. "Nobody's going to come along and let him out, are they?"
"Of course not!" cried his audience indignantly. The tought of anybody wantonly releasing a fellow member who had got stuck in the telephone booth, a thing that only happened once in a blue moon, was revolting to them.
"Then that's all right. Now then, gentlemen, the simple question you have to ask yourselves is - What is the gentleman in the telephone booth wearing? Or putting it another way - What's he got on? Hence the term Clothes Stakes. It might be one thing, or it might be another. He might be in his Sunday-go-to-meetings, or he might have been taking a dip int eh Serpentine and be in his little bathing suit. Or he may have joined the Salvation Army. To give you a lead, I am offering nine to four against Blue Serge, four to one Pin-Striped Grey Tweed, ten to one Golf Coat and Plus Fours, a hundred to six Gymnasium Vest and Running Shorts, twenty to one Court Dress as worn at Buckingham Palace, nine to four the field. And perhaps you, sir," said Mr. Pott, addressing an adjacent Egg, "would be good enough to officiate as my clerk."
"That doesn't mean I can't have a bit on?"
"By no means, sir. Follow the dictates of your heart and fear nothing." (-- pgs. 40-51) |
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editor
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| Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 12:39 pm Post subject: |
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Sunset at Blandings
Hardcover
The last work of dear Wodehouse, who turned in
his dinner pail Feb. 14/75 with this work still in progress.
Charmingly annotated by Richard Usborne
| Quote: | Gally's prediction that it would not be long before his niece ceased to smile was fulfilled with a promptitude which should have gratified him. If a bomb had exploded in the smaller drawing-room, scattering old English folk songs left and right, she could not have reacted more instantaneously. The haughtiness which had been so distasteful to her uncle fell from her like a garment.
'Oh, Gally!' she cried, her voice breaking and her attractive eyes widening to their fullest extent. 'Oh, the poor darling angel, he must be feeling awful.'
'He is,' said Gally, holding the view that this softer mood should be encouraged. 'His reception of the news was pitiful to see. It knocked him flatter than a Dover sole. He reminded me of Blinky Bender, an old pal of mine at the Pelican, the time when he won sixty pounds on the fourth at Newmarket and suddenly realized that in order to collect the money he would have to go past five other bookies in whose debt he was. You had better run along and console him.'
'I will.'
'Making it clear that all is forgiven and forgotten and that you are sweethearts still,' said Gally, and he went off to get a glass of port in Beach's pantry. (-- pgs. 78-79) |
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editor
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| Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 1:12 pm Post subject: |
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Summer Lightning
Paperback
By P.G. Wodehouse
| Quote: | 'He (pink Ronnie Fish) bounced tennis-balls on my pig!'
'Do you mean to tell me,' he said sternly, 'that all this fuss, ruining my morning's work, was simply about that blasted pig of yours?'
'I refuse to allow you to call the Empress a blasted pig! Good heavens!' cried Lord Emsworth passionately. Can none of my family appreciate the fact that she is the most remarkable animal in Great Britain? No pig in the whole annals of the Shropshire Agricultural Show has ever won the silver medal two years in succession. And that, if only people will leave her alone and refrain from incessantly pelting her with tennis balls, is what the Empress is quite certain to do. It is an unheard of feat.'
The Hon. Gallahad frwoned. He shook his head reprovingly. It was all very well, he felt, a stable being optimistic about its nominee, but he was a man who could face facts. In a long and chequered life he had seen so many good things unstuck. Besides, he had his superstitions, and one of them was that counting your chickens in advance brought bad luck.
'Don't you be too cocksure, my boy,' he said gravely. 'I looked in at the Emsworth Arms the other day for a glass of beer, and there was a fellow in there offering three to one on an animal called Pride of Matchingham. Offering it freely. Tall, red-haired fellow with a squint. Slightly bottled.'
'Pride of Matchingham belongs to Sir Gregory Parsloe,' he said, 'and I have no doubt that the man offering such ridiculous odds was his pig-man, Wellbeloved. As you know, the fellow used to be in my employment, but Parsloe lured him away from me by the promise of higher wages.' Lord Emsworth's expression had now become positively ferocious. 'The thought of George Cyril Wellbeloved, that perjured pig-man, always made the iron enter into his soul. 'It was a most abominable thing to do.'
The Hon. Galahad whistled.
'So that's it, is it? Parsloe's pig man going about offering three to one- against the form-book, I take it?'
'Most decidedly. Pride of Matchingham was awarded second prize last year, but it is quite an inferior animal to the Empress.'
'Then you look after that pig of yours, Clarence.' The Hon. Galahad spoke earnestly. 'I see what this means. Parsloe's up to his old games, and intends to queer the Empress somehow.'
'Queer her?'
'Nobble her. Or, if he can't do that, steal her.'
'You don't mean it.'
'I do mean it. The man's as slippery as a greased eel. He would nobble his grandmother if it suited his book. Let me tell you I've known young Parsloe for thirty years and I solemnly state that if his grandmother was entered in a competition for fat pigs and his commitments made it desirable for him to get her out of the way, he would dope her branmash and acorns without a moment's hesitation.'
'God bless my soul!' said Lord Emsworth, deeply impressed.
'Let me tell you a little story about young Parsloe. One or two of us used to meet at the Black Footman in Gossiter Street in the old days - they've pulled it down now - and match our dogs against rats in the room behind the bar. Well, I put my Towser, and admirable beast, up against young Parsloe's Banjo on one occasion for a hundred pounds a side. And when the night came and he was shown the rats, I'm dashed if he didn't just give a long yawn and roll over and go to sleep. I whistled him...called him...Towser, Towser...No good...Fast asleep. And my firm belief has always been that young Parsloe took him aside just before the contest was to start and gave him about six pounds of steak and onions. Couldn't prove anything, of course, but I sniffed the dog's breath and it was like opening the kitchen door of a Soho chophouse on a summer night. That's the sort of man young Parsloe is.'
'Galahad!'
'Fact. You'll find the story in *my book.' (From Chapter 3, The Sensational Theft of a Pig, at pgs. 65-67) |
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| Posted: Sun May 31, 2009 12:12 pm Post subject: |
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Bill the Conqueror
His Invasion of England in the Springtime
Hardcover
By P.G. Wodehouse
| Quote: | 'I want to talk to you about Society Spice,' said Sir George severely, dismissing the minor subject of costume. He retrieved the copy of the paper from the corner into which his just indignation had caused him to fling it, and began to turn its pages with knitted brow, Roderick eyeing him the while with all the care-free insouciance of a man watching a ticking bomb.
'Ha!' barked Sir George suddenly, lifting his son and heir a clear two inches off the seat of his chair. 'Just as I thought! It isn't there!'
'What, father?'
'The fourth instalment of that series on Bookmakers' Swindling Methods. It has been discontinued. Why?'
'Well, you see, father -- '
'Pilbeam told me it was a great success. He said there had been a number of letters about it.'
Roderick shuddered. He had seen some of those letters - the ones which Pilbeam, a jovial enthusiast, had described as the fruitiest of the bunch.
'Well, you see, father,' he bleated, 'it was so frightfully personal.'
'Personal!' Sir George's frown seemed to darken the room 'It was meant to be personal. Society Spice is a personal paper. Good heavens, you don't suppose these bookmakers can afford to bring libel actions, do you?'
'But, father --'
'All the better if they did. It would be an excellent advertisement, and no jury would award them more than a farthing's damages.'
Roderick shuffled unhappily.
'It isn't so much libel actions.
'What do you mean?'
'Well, father, it's like this. I happened to be down at Kempton Park last Saturday, and I met a man who told me that Ike Bullett was going about uttering the most awful threats.'
'Ike Bullett? Who's Ike Bullett?'
'He's one of the bookies. The articles have been particularly outspoken about him, you know. And he was threatening that if I didn't stop them he would put the Lads on to me and they would come and butter me over the pavement.'
Sensational as this announcement was, it seemed to leave Sir George completely unimpressed. He did not actually snap his fingers, but he made an odd contemptuous noise at the back of his throat which amounted to a finger-snap. Having done this, he proceeded to speak his mind.
It was a manly, sturdy attitude that he adopted. He defied Ike Bullett and all his kind. Ike Bullett, he seemed to suggest, might put all the Lads in the world on to Roderick, but he couldn't intimidate him, Sir George. He faced with a fine, fearless unconcern the prospect of people buttering Roderick over the pavement. Not since the days of Lucius Junius Brutus had there been a father so ruggedly careless of the comfort of his son.
'The series,' said the proprietor of the Mammoth Publishing Company tensely at the end of a striking passage in which he had voiced some of the resentment he felt at the mean trick which Providence had played upon him in making him Roderick's father, 'will be resumed. At once. Understand that!
'Yes, father.'
'And if,' said Sir George valiantly, 'this Ike Bullett of yours doesn't like it he can lump it!'
'Very well, father,' said Roderick hopelessly. ... (From A Marriage has been Arranged, pgs. 12-13) |
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editor
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| Posted: Sun Sep 27, 2009 3:39 pm Post subject: |
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Lord Emsworth and Others
Hardcover
Quite possibly a Wodehouse short story zenith!
By P.G. Wodehouse
| Quote: | Have you ever stopped to consider what the impact of a butler on a boneheaded proletarian of the Billson type must be like? It can scarcely fail to be unsettling. And Oakshott was one of those stout, impressive, ecclesiastical butlers. A man with a presence. Meeting him in the street and ignoring the foul bowler that he wore on his walks abroad, you would have put him down as a Bishop in mufti or, at the least, a plenipotentiary at one of the better courts.
Personally, having run into him one afternoon at Ally Pally just after the second race, and having found him a bloke with a distrinctly sporting vein in his composition, I had never felt for him the reverence he excited in others. More one of the boys than a butler was the way I had always regarded him. But I could see that to Battling Billson, a chap brought up in the cruder surroundings of the Wapping water-front, and accustomed all his life to look on a Silver Ring bookie as the highest thing in the social scale, he must have seemed like a being from another and more rarefied world. Anyway, be that as it may, there was no room for doubt that he had fallen under this butler's glamorous spell, and something had got to be done to switch off the other's heady influence before it was too late. (From The Come-back of Battling Billson, pgs. 232-233) |
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