Sunday, 18 October 2009


Following a series of top-level secret meetings in the bunker, the collective have unanimously agreed to invite submissions from our vast readership, which we understand amounts to literally billions of people.

The meetings were intense and emotions were fraught. Without the aid of Red Bull, ephedrine, and a shopping trolley full of stolen Wotsits and Wagon Wheels, I don't think we'd have made it through. Tough times.

Anyway, we implore - nay, beg - our fellow aficionados to submit articles for publication. You can submit prose detailing your favourite Racecourse memories; humorous anecdotes of days gone by; poems; haiku; manifestos for change. Anything really. We're not fussy.

Besides, we could do with a little culture on this rather tawdry and down-market blog.

So, comrades, if any of you feel like penning a few words in homage to the Racecourse, please email us your creative babies at

To get you in the mood, reproduced below is a short piece from some pompous old windbag on Red Passion. Strikes me as a blatant rip-off of the rhythms and style of Sir Tommy but I'm sure the tosser who wrote it will claim he was merely 'inspired' by the great man. I did say we're not fussy.

It was a winter night
On my way to the 'course
Weaving past people
And a copper on a horse

The horse had shat
On the road
A man in a comedy jesters hat
Approached the copper and moaned
The copper just looked down at him
And said "move along sunshine"
Whilst fondling his bat

I stopped for a fag
And sent a quick text
"You coming the game?
Then we'll go out and get wrecked"

In through the turnstile
£18? You're having a laugh
For a cheap plastic seat
That'll give me a pile
Or three
I couldv'e stayed at home
And had a bath

I meet a mate
And get a beer
£2.70 for warm Carling, which I hate
They saw me coming

The game begins
We lose
We're shit
I feel like I've been mugged
But on the plus side
Wrex The Dragon
Did look quite fit

Off to the pub
For a pint
Or six
As a parrot

Bit shit isn't it? See, if we'll publish this we'll publish anything. Get writing!

Nos da brethren


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